They twirled, swayed, explored, and rummaged through the confines of the Threshold, again and again, a familiar dance. The only portions of their activity remaining foreign were the creatures they could meet within; scarred, scorned individuals layered and mired within their past, tiny, ferocious bulbs of spirit and lace, fragments and slivers of ebullience polished and veneered into stern artifices, wounds needing to be healed, scattered and slinking to the western winds or the northern breeze. The varieties of creatures, the mysteries adorned and abandoned, found again, twisted, contorted, plaited and unabashed, were what made her trips, even those unsuccessful, worth the movement and motion. Resurgence and renewal was always the forefront of her journeys into the gateway, across the palisade yards, but so were the entangled enigmas and the quiet quandaries, lurking and shimmering, brilliant, luminescent chords of unearthly, fine, subtle deliberations.

Their motions were ambient pieces of honey and ambrosia, scaling over roots and soil, willow, sprite, pixie, faire and fey presence, seeking and searching through the unknown heralds of voices, of gatherings, of throngs and finally, to those unanswered plumes waiting in the sun, in the shadow. Scents washed over them in undying waves, until one finally overcame the relentless pursuit, a haunting outcry for others pervading, unwinding, intrigued and hustled Lena’s curiosity. The two followed, kitsune and healer, endeavoring to find and procure, pluck and lead, another restless jewel into the mountains, into the frozen beauty of auroras, peaks, lakes never freezing, hot springs never failing. Eventually, the collected smell led their path towards a figure of silver, an intriguing mask laid over the unknown femme’s features (like a masquerade, only she benefitted from always hiding behind her markings), and then, to the daffodil eyes, flaxen, golden, gilded gaze. Drawing her frame across the hallowed void, providing clarity, beneficence, benevolence, heart-strung honesty and candor, her lips curled into an enormous smile, an enduring grin. Lilting, harmonious strains and ditties coiled and rippled through her vocals, strung by lutes and flutes. “Greetings! Welcome to Helovia!” She issued one dip of her cranium, salutations and respect, and the ivory companion nestled at her front limbs attempted to do the same (though not nearly as graceful – finesse would come with age). “I’m Lena. What's your name?”

A quick study, swift, calculating ruminations, a settled paradigm of intrigue and composed quandaries; the mare before her seemed visibly relieved, easygoing, captured by the whims and fancies of the lands before her. The world was vast, unyielding, and relentless, with kind souls nestled in boughs and shirking enamel of conspiring, eldritch titans amongst the shadows, a domain fueled and filled with wonder, treachery, deceit and ebullience. Even in the shifting seasons of Lena’s time along the perils, the strife, the devotion and love, she hadn’t seen every land, hadn’t wandered down every pathway, hadn’t stood steadfast upon every threshold with ardent passions and reverent raptures. The femme before her, awakened by the fresh presence of another, seemed to bloom and blossom from the oasis of listlessness, friendly, if a little furtive, unsure and desperate. Perhaps it was fortuitous that if had been the nymph, the sylph, the fairy and fey, the pixie and sprite, that had found her amongst the crisp, autumn haze, and not some other slinking, slithering benefactor, trenchant and mordant, crawling and avaricious. Generous, kind, benevolent and noble, the nurse would think of naught more but the selfless actions she could provide to the newcomer, still without a name hastened from her mouth. Maybe she wished to leave it unspoken, secretive, a token of the past, for her ears only? Instead of perusing it further, or asking once more (because there may have been a wall, a fortress, the other maiden did not want scaled), she proffered information, noteworthy aspects the argent could grasp. A mellifluous tune floated from her mouth, a wisp of soothing air, a poignant, subtle tune. “Helovia is expansive – do not feel ashamed if you weren’t aware of your surroundings.” She pondered for a moment, tilted her cranium so the slip of her honeyed eyes rested firmly upon the gilded gaze of the stranger, extending sentiments of guidance and tenderness for another wary soul adrift along the immense corridors. “Is there something you seek? Or a place you long to go?” Lena could show her the way, through bulrushes, through primrose parlors, through shadowed entrails and innards, safeguarded and protected by grins and benedictions.

Lena couldn’t promise repose. There were many things she’d commit to: camaraderie, loyalty, beneficence, kindness, generosity and selflessness, but in this great outstretch of land, where mighty forces clashed, where gods spoke and worlds fell apart, where herds seethed and simmered, resurrected and renewed from ashes, there was never a true essence of peace. Stretches of time could compose and construct the artifice of morality and sighs of relief, breaks and intakes of air softening and smoldering until the next wave of uncertainty. She’d long since accepted and adopted this fashion, but didn’t allow her frame to be completely corrupted by the ages of war and daises of bloodshed; brutality struck at her membrane in the most acrimonious of times, and she still regretted the plucked strings of her upheaval and damnation – but it didn’t consume her. It wasn’t the making of her character, the heartbeat of her presence, the delight of her life, the nymph tended to grasp at lilies, daffodils, laughter and merriment, and only when pushed, shoved, driven into the armaments of peril and oblivion, did she consign herself to the sinister edges of insurrection. Her eyes softened, perused over the elder mare, Tyra, and wondered what shape she would take within the confines of this realm. If she sought divinity, virtue, and keen morality, she’d have to protect herself from the fringe of blades and the serrated knives of enemies, adversaries who perceived junctures of serenity as slander to their creation. She’d have to slide away from the chaotic friction, the assemblage of titans and behemoths, monsters and demons, steel her soul for the frantic sedition of others. Did she have the heart, the courage, the strength to do it? Did her heart beat in steadfast, valorous form? Could her stalwart entity mold and sculpt over her dulcet requiems and laments? Could she survive? The sylph prospered her gifts, extended her wisdom, and ruminated over how to help the maiden persevere. “Its difficult to truly conjure peace here, but, I can still offer you a place to belong.” She drew another breath, warmed the atmosphere with the soothing, assuaging alms of a gracious, regal consul, while Imogen listened on, silent witness to renewal measures. “I live in the Aurora Basin, a land surrounded by mountains, accompanied by a valley, lake, caverns and hot springs. If you wish, you could call it home.”

The wariness, the discomfort within Tyra’s eyes was nearly heartbreaking – why had she been rendered into such a state? What propelled her into these ruins, into these fashions of split nuances and capricious foils, flamed and abashed as panic contorted and controlled her voice? The questions volley back and forth, strings of uncertainties laden with infinite doubts, like swirling clouds, wisps, puffs of confusion in a torrent, in a barrage, of unease and trepidation. Lena does her best to steal and ensnare the apprehension, the dismay, the terror and anxieties away, building a humming flare of song and life, flickering, luminescent clarity from her throat. A lilting ditty entered into another refrain, calm, composed, kind, gentle gaze boring into the mare’s golden slits in effort to convey serenity, tranquility; that despite the essence of their world, not everything sought to destroy. “You may leave if you find a land unsuitable.” No one, as far as she was aware, had been chained and locked into the confines of their homes, imprisoned in a kingdom they’d traversed, found, to ensnare shelter and sanctuary. They were not hostages in their palaces, released only when fortitudes and foundations were found adequate. Hushed and collected, the nurse continued, hoping to provide ease, a keen, ardent sentiment, erasing all these heightened measures of alarm and hysteria warping the foundation of invitation and generosity. Patience, a glowing bulb, undaunted alms, aimed a soothing, assuaging presentation amidst the sights, the sounds, of her reformed aria. “Why wouldn’t they accept you?" The tolerant, forbearing, enduring stare never flickered away, attempting to gather the precipice from which the mare had fallen, resume regrowth and renewal in persevering dedication. “There are many of us – Unicorns, Equines, and Pegasus alike.” The exact number was indiscernible, and Lena had never given enough time or exploration to befit a proper answer. Instead, she drew back into silence, composure, grace and elegance, posturing a relaxed pose and prose while Tyra queried and quelled.

There were probably more quandaries circling Tyra’s mind, quelling, brewing, building below the surface of her apprehensive features, but the trust and faith she put within Lena would not be disregarded or forgotten. The nymph’s benedictions and convictions were never capricious, fanciful things, composed by lithe strings and cut by nefarious threads; they remained solid, resolute, steadfast and stalwart, tucked into her heart, nestled in the devotion to her companions, her loyalty, her kingdom. She had no intentions of letting Tyra slip into the veneer and artifice of cruelty, or the shambles and shackles of sinister bombardments – and though her world would be what she carved into it, how she labored, where she pinpointed her goals and which path she wandered upon – the sylph had no qualms about steering her away from the beacons and beckoning of avaricious plumes. If the silver could muster diligence, if she could dig deep within her wounded walls and pluck along the carillon calls of bravery, ambition, aspirations, and courage, Lena was certain she’d be capable of fending off the intricacies of immorality. Upon the argent’s acceptance, her smile ignited, enlightened, a brightened, radiant glow pervading the shadows and the gloom, beneficent and luminescent. The singsong decibels of her tone pulsed in a vibrant tune, grand, hopeful, valorous. “Follow me!” Pixie and kitsune turned, moving into an elegant pace, a light, airy stride, creating a guiding hand to share and convey the delights of a newfound home to a stranger locked in weariness. Whether the world would be too cruel, peace too shattered, repose and serenity too far away, remained to be seen, but Tyra needed find her strength, her determination, her perseverance along the way, or be devoured in the midst of all its fallacies.

[Once you get your rank changed, you're free to post in the Basin! I'll make a welcome thread for you (or pop into someone else's ;D) and tag you when I'm done. ^_^]