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.

But tonight I seek something more, I seek an audience with the patron Goddess of my lands. It had been a great length of time since my discussions with her, though her mists always do guide me true, there were times in the last year where I had prayed to her and received nothing in return. Turning upon a heel, I redirect my path with light steps, weaving my lithe, deerlike body through the path that even the most devoted member of the Edge would not find without my guidance. I smiled to myself, wondering who might be attempting to take stealthy steps in my wake to track my whereabouts - if any at all.

I reach my destination, the mists dance and embrace me with their cool, damp fingers, rolling over my frame, my pale hide blending in with them. I tilt my horned crown to the skies, the midnight light reflecting eerily off the shine of the rounded edges of the slender sword. My violet eyes seek out the Goddess, her similarly hued bodice, her smile and knowledge that would bless me with foresight into past, present or future events.

"My beloved Lady, my most revered Goddess, I beseech you to bless me with the sight of the mists, to hear and understand what messages you might have for your humble servant."

And then my tiara bowed, my long horn scraping the ground as it swooped along the arc I carved, my bodice awaiting with hope and faith guiding it, for a result from the mists to be revealed to me.