Continuing on their intrepid quest and crusade, full of the mid-morning rush and the crisp, cool vestiges of autumn air, Lena’s movements and motions brought them into a region she knew well; and even though it always struck her with a bitter, rancorous, slighted, blighted edge, she still advanced into the mist and cliff regime. Like a constant, ceremonial twinge, she stepped into the labyrinthine fog and abyss with a brilliant smile and heavy heart, angelic seraph fluttering and flickering amongst the glassy fixtures and mossy beds. No matter the hysteria, the histories, the remarkable, brandished, ignited sway between their two herd lands now and then, they’d entered an armistice, an understanding, and she tried to remind herself she shouldn’t feel daunted, weary, nervous of the task bound to these particular lands. Instead, she pervaded and grew alight, blossomed and unfurled in the hold, in the brush of the familiar haze, closed her eyes and pressed lightly into the Edge’s riveting void, forced away the blinding images of war, of waged violence, of blood and ichor, rampaging sieges and virulent campaigns – those days had come to an end, and they were here to provide a nuance, a sentiment, a rumination, of what peace and the Basin could reflect. Her thoughts glided in light, listless tides, wondering and pondering over who would arrive, of who would wander into their frozen wares, into their aurora bliss, and she fervently hoped some of her own companions met and kept within these emboldened walls would find themselves in the midst of the icy palisade. Perhaps Kahlua, forever eager, warm, and amiable, would immerse herself into the rime dances and frosted songs, delighted, ignited, in the passionate display of their hope and vigilance? Maybe Alysanne would place her tucked wings into their kindred walls, and they could share more herbs, more secrets, more daydream exchanges amongst the fold of friends?

With the nymph and fairy’s ambitions reaffirmed, she followed the same particulars from their previous beckoning and requests, lowering her neck and allowing several invitations to flit, hover, dance, and fall to the Edge’s borders, foal bearings and sketches useful and creative, brazenly embarking, coaxing their occupants from sleepy doldrums and listless throes, enticing, ensnaring, foretold merriment. Her stare remained fixated on the silent fog, the unsung murk, for a few more minutes, greeting, remembering, the lands, the rolling shores, the massive bluffs and ridges, like an old friend, and before she got too wistful or attracted unnecessary attention from her comrades, she smiled wanly in their direction, and proceeded through old pathways, trailing and tracing to their final kingdom.

[You’ve been invited to The Aurora Basin’s Celebration of the Time God!

Below is a drawing of your invitation, provided by several Basin foals: