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

It faded nearly as quickly as it’d come; suspicion, demons, ruminations of monsters and how one labeled infidels, cretins brought to life by what stones were thrown at them, what they’d been chiseled, molded, sculpted from. Liit prospered only comfort thereafter, to which Lena accepted, but her thoughts, her contemplations, failed to be scorched and swiftly intermingled with other subjects so readily – speculations and reveries only gave forth queries to age-old quandaries and mysteries (how far had she truly fallen in the maddening clasp of morality and sin? What counts as justice, and what sears as vengeance? What chases ghosts at the witching hour, and what smiles towards the heavens? Was she to commit the former, instead of the latter?). And how much did the newcomer believe from elegant lies, from beguiling, alluring mythos, strangers partaking in unknown regards and rumors? Her warm gaze flickered from horizon to mountain, from summit to caverns, and the sylph wondered if the pale mare regretted coming here, enveloped in enigmatic squalls, worlds, kingdoms, realms fighting, twisting turning, convoluting, and distorting for a chance, an opportunity, for the pull over one another, holstered and dragged alongside it every inch of the way. For one so reserved, she’d already managed to clench and grasp rasping decibels of specious depths, specters and wraiths haunting, colliding, flinching and scalding. Lena managed to capture a rosy veneer once more, genuine and intertwined with the swaying, spring breeze, the singsong raptures that usually captured her, when not ultimately distracted by the clawing, crawling entrails of duplicities, deceptions, and fiction dabbled beyond their door. The issue wasn’t pressed through her lips again, only the honeysuckle forging of generosity, rarely spurned, scoffed, or forgotten, welcoming all over again. “What would you like to see?” Her cranium gestured towards the hot springs, bubbling and frothing, warm and soothing, then in another direction altogether, along the cavern walls, where a mirror loomed in a cave, mystical, exotic, divine and devout – or the reflections of pathways and corridors, great, fantastical boundaries of the ice and Siberia.