Lena
I'm buried and covered peaceful under millions of stars

Forgiveness, altruism, humanity and mercy were aspects collected, intertwined and spread into Lena’s essence. Tiny, minute flickers of gold, ambrosia and honey, pulled together into a tender nuance of cordial harmony, lined with threads of satin, silk and mellifluous croons, soft bells and stalwart hymns. A dove’s grand gestures of kindness, a swan’s bold endeavors and a devoted and dedicated heart was aligned into her spirit, her flesh, her honed bone and sinew. She was not treated to bitter runes, she didn’t taste or yield the rancorous fruit of their labors and she refused to rot in the decadence of their spiraling sins, their entrenched memories and cast iron resolve. Her syllables wouldn’t threaten, wouldn’t malign, wouldn’t assail, wouldn’t curse or flail at the lost whims of the precious soldier. So it was no great wonder that she’d bestow her beneficence, her fancies, her gathered shards of generosity and ungrudging affection towards Korra, a fellow entity longing to help their kingdom, snatched and snagged from them so long ago. Her stimulating smile stretched beyond the means of pardon and absolution, for they’d already been decreed, laid upon the soldier the moment the sylph came across her wanderings – their world was her world again, fostered by rime, by ash, by failure and conquest. Perhaps she would not have to drift any longer, their strong blaze of stag and horn, maybe the lands would occupy her mind once more, carve glacial attributes across her stony heart again, christen and anoint something for her to cherish, something for her to love. Imogen chattered in agreement of the unspoken sentiment, twirled rapidly in the powdered snow, tails dancing in the luster of winter, in all the whimsical tides it brought, even amongst the danger, the perils, the hazards, Lena had discovered an individual forever worth her weight in gold, in amber, in starlight and valor. She bowed her head in a patriotic swing towards her brethren, trust and unwavering clarity brimming past the edges of her movements, the clear, honeyed gaze steadfast and poignant upon Korra. The shaggy, the silent and the stern, but always a wonderful creature the nymph was content to call a friend. Her words dabbled across the scenery, a vivid hum, sparking, igniting and inciting the bellow, the roar, of an icy homeland waiting for its amazon to reappear. “The Basin awaits your return.” She laughed and turned into the wilderness, spun grandeur into the mysterious boughs of the Threshold, and pursued the opulence of the Aurora once more, eager to share it with the garron again.