Welcoming; the ambience of change, swift, sure and strong, an alteration in the seams that always brought forth kindred, rapturous spirits. Within the basking trace of aria and song, the dance of salutation, sanctuary and reception, ruins were forgotten, weights tarnished and tossed, armaments of bliss scattered amongst the grave journeys that ushered the taut deliverance. Woven into chords of lace and taffeta, sleek and durable, tired and true, new life trickled into familiarity, ran rampant next to archaic streams, flourished from hesitancy, blossomed from the unknown, that charted, graced and polished. Gloom abandoned, ferocity disregarded, sin scorched, burying chains of atrocity into the lament of another time, archaic denizens, recognizing the satin motions of freedom. Liberation, release, from the wear and tear of yesterday’s predicaments and sullied, broken tirades, breathing dulcet croons and hymns from the sanguine lips of augured nymphs. Like she, they would sew their hearts into the land, give their trust, their guidance, their companionship to the winter, to the wind, to the earth and sky, cherish and devote, persevere and unite. Despite their vivid differences, their candid personalities that whispered from deadly hallows, crushed tranquil trances or smiled amidst the wildest of dreams, they all crooned, murmured and twisted beneath the same sun, along the same kingdom, intertwined in the mass of the Siberian sovereignty. This time, like so many moments before, she brought another to join in the crowd of lingering forces, the persistent, the sturdy, and the stalwart. A child of the rain, a scion of water, a daughter born from regality and liquid, the gentle and compassionate Tiamat, was added to their pride, notched into their scars and triumphs, their conquests and losses, to grow, to achieve, to dance in the wind and drown the earth in her breathless waltz.

The afternoon chill of the Aurora greeted them fondly, the cold, cool slip of appreciation wound around their bodies, a delighted tempest fallen to soil to regard its followers. The sylph’s eyes strayed once across the horizon, caught the faintest traces of snow lingering, pressing, promising and conveying its raw sentiments, then to the following girl. Would she enjoy this world, of ice, rime, beauty and danger? Would she be allured, beguiled, tempted by its elegance, overwhelmed by its temptations? Would she claim its threshold to her brow, to her heart, to her soul, press it against her entity until she too was encased in the splendor of its majesty? Her wonder piqued, her curiosity incensed, her interest prevailed, but never stirred across her tongue. She’d rather the earth revere and admire the intrigue of Tiamat’s presence, of her dependable nature, of her unwavering faith, then calculate the uncertainty, the doubt, of the future. Instead, her masterful grin curled along her lips, a soft, gentle hum extended towards the heavens, towards the skies, to amass in the ears of the rain filly. “Welcome to the Aurora Basin.” Imogen, tracing the heels of her companion, came behind the addressed fey and chirped, extending her own blessing to the delightful harpsichords that rang amongst the biting air.

[First Tiamat, then anyone. ;D]