The divines must have surely smiled down upon the seeker on this morning to find such a suitable delicacy.
But she doesn't know that, yet, not right now, at least. Right now the seeker is preoccupied with the ruckus
coming from the depths of the Threshold's forest. Was it a clumsy oaf, a naive creation, or a stupid beast
that is creating so much noise? Is it not clear to them that they need to shush themselves, or do they
travel like this all the time? Is the noise purposeful? If the noise of the mare giving birth to her child Apollo had gathered
the dangers that lurk in the shadows, then who was a fool enough to awaken the entire forest?

Charcoal and peach hooves bring her across the soft earth, darkened orbs scan
the lines of the trees for the idiot she assumes must be creating such
a disturbance. Is it just her, or does the air have a tinge of grit in it on this eve?
It reminds her of sand being blown on the beach, and yet, she is not next to the
ocean with the white general on this day. What is causing this needless pollution? Is it the
same creature that has caused the noise?
Harks twitch with the urge to lay down, into the tendrils of her mane. A slithering sound meets them,
and more of the grit is breathed into her nostrils. A grimace touches her maw, a cough working it's way up into her
throat.
And then she sees him.

He is shrouded in golden, shimmering sands, as downy feathers of a young avian. It startles her, momentarily, her orbs
taking in every detail of the sand god before her. A dusting of gold speckles his ship, set upon a ebony ocean. Silvery blue tides
seem almost mildly confused, cropped blue grasses and golden robe. Upon his dome is a interwoven beauty, complimenting
the rest of his divine framework with lovely decoration. She must admit, the brute is handsome, and well, he does have a weapon
that strikes from his brow. She moves the guilty image of the white general from her mind as she steps a little closer
to the mirage, sparkling indigo orbs gazing into the silvery blue depths.
The shade's neck moves in a graceful arch, allowing a light dip of her crown in greeting. She poses herself with elegance,
long lashes fluttering as she scrapes her orbs once more over the wonder. Would charm work on this beast? She works her frame with practiced
precision to tempt the brute to focus his attention unto her wholly.
Before she can make a attempt at speech with him, she notes a much less interesting frame of a femme. They flash over her hide with disinterest mingling in their depths, then switch softly but firmly back to the beast.
"Greetings, sand weaver,"
lyrics wisp and spin webs into the clear air as she speaks - "are you lost in this labyrinth? i may bestow upon you what i know, if you indeed seek such understanding."


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