Some call the fog daunting, obscuring, thrilling. I called it beautiful, gracious and informative. These mists were my home, since my birth, since the Gods threatened to destruct the entirety of Helovia. I am a survivor, I have seen leaders come and go, members come and go, I have even made friends and connections along the way - but they have left, where I have stayed. The World's Edge is not for everyone, this is a fact that I discovered eons ago, and yet still I allow myself to be drawn close to others, still I feel an ache within my breast when they leave.

Sometimes it does well to guard against those who would just leave in the end.

My lithe, pale frame walks with steps of precision, delicate, purposeful, and graced by the cool, damp embrace of the mists. My tail, long and leonine, seems to orchestrate the curious substance, with every sweeping motion, it strokes the mists into shapes, shadows, tales. I am a dreamweaver, where one sees insignificant shapes and colours, I see the future, the past, the present, I see everything amidst this misty cloak that would otherwise hide all.

"Be careful where you step."

The voice seemed to echo, rebound off every tree, rock and leaf surrounding the mare. It was a soothing, warm and comforting voice, though it was laced with a true and dire warning. The maiden ran the forests of the Edge, a land named very aptly, for in places, the forest simply stopped, and nothing but a great drop, with sharp rocks and a thrashing sea, would welcome one's body into its deadly embrace. My nape arches, as I purposefully step in the young lady's path, the mists lingering about my form as they so often do. Every move I make seems to drag them along with me, they protect me, you see, guide me, show me where my path shall be turned. I know them well, just as this creaturemay come to know them.

"I am Hellena." I proffer my name, something that I do not do in every meeting I find myself in. "You walk in the World's Edge, mare, a land where the herd named the Qian reside." The information is something I usually hold onto, but he walks without the air of an intruder seeking to cause harm upon our land, our herd. Perhaps she is seeking something else, something that the land can provide for her? I smile, my otherwise impassive façade softening as I do so, my nape bending as I nod graciously to this lanky dark fae. With a sweeping, intentional stroke of my leonine tail, I part the mists that lie before us; and they drop, revealing just how close the Edge of the World lays. I do this so that she might appreciate the warning I gave her, the choice I made to interfere with her path, to offer her something more than a quick drop over the edge of our home.

I wish to offer her something to do with her destiny.