She nearly laughed at Blue Duck’s assertion that no, he would not like a challenge, but then thought more of it, and her mouth closed into a straight, fixed line, quiet, resolute, processing the information laid out before her. Perhaps she’d been too quick, too forceful in her jovial pursuits, presuming that everyone latched onto tests, trials and summons, for she had blossomed from them. When the world snarled at her, she smiled back. When the realm sneered at her cordiality, she welcomed it with open arms, and when the shadows begged for release she showed them the warmth of her heart, the temptation of her spirit, the unfailing, stalwart luminescence of her essence. If the fires of villainy sparked across her brow, she adhered to the ferocity kindled within her blessed soul, allowed it to fester, to brew, toxic invocations of purpose, strategy and loyalty. Maybe others did not feel the same, dreaded the nuances of flooded memories, the failed dreams and the ruminations of timeless odysseys faltered, divided and conquered, dismayed by the arches of defeat and collapse, foundering and floundering along the docks of their beloved aspirations. The fear of disappointment, the struggle of disaster, the silent misgivings wrapped around sentiments and minds until they were anxious, fluttering doubts, shrouds and veils of damnation, condemnation, hallowed threads of deceit and torment. Her eyes drifted from the shards of pine boughs and needles to the cerulean inferno of his presence, and she was suddenly very sorry she’d said anything about travails. She didn’t know where he’d been, what he’d accomplished, what tarnished the aching limbs, what chased him away from his former home – she bowed her regal cranium in apology, allowed it to beckon over the silence, listening as he changed his mind. To appease her? To indulge her silly whims and fancies, to delve into some fantasy she’d concocted for play and fun? The nymph shook her head, prospered her sweet voice into the lull, to correct her errors, to proffer her regret and rancor over ruffled ineptitude once more. She detested hurting others, but often her rogue words led them astray, down into paths of pain and torture, then righting the wrong. “I’m sure you’ll find something, whether it be adventure, a challenge, or comfort.”

The sylph’s honeyed gaze flickered from Mauja, hushed and noiseless amongst their fey interludes, and subsequently settled back towards Blue Duck. She didn’t answer his former query, presuming it would lead them further down primrose roads lined with mishaps and misfortunes, and instead chose to concentrate on his utterance of danger being his middle name. She allowed her smile to appear again, the smallest of giggles to pass into the air, Imogen dancing on the trebles and arias of the serene sound along ivory snow, for she didn’t know if he spoke the truth or if he delved again into their silly musings. Was he a daredevil, skimming on the seams of their tamed entities, waiting for the moment to unravel all the wild, untamed frivolities of bestial chords? Familiar with treachery, with pinnacles of peril, hazards and risk? Lena glanced at him curiously, raised a brow, but continued onward, the echo of her tones wrapping along the apertures of copse, glade and flakes of grandeur. “Then you won’t have to go searching for it.” A wink, a nod, a glimmer of humor in the seriousness of what risk, threat and menace could bring, and then she was a flower, whirlwind and sprite, casting them towards the Basin, towards the earth, the kingdom, the empire that could offer him all the things he claimed, cherished and wanted.