Surprisingly enough, the Thief had never had much cause for celebration in his lifetime. As a child he had taken part in the odd religious ceremony, as his herd had always been very devout, but he had been given no choice between participating or opting out. He had been an excitable child though, and the furor that often accompanied such an event had not been particularly unwelcome, when it was an excuse to let his manners slip. When the war was won their celebration had lasted long into the night and carried over into the next several days, and even triumphant he had slipped to its corners, on the quiet edge of their exuberant festivities, content to observe rather than participate.

He was not well versed in the art of such celebrations, and though he was willing enough to take part in honoring the God of Time, there remained one final problem. Roland had never learned how to dance. He was fairly confident in all his other assets; had never felt insecure about his appearance, and had only occasionally doubted his own intelligence, but if there was anything he might have been skeptical of, it was his agility. He had proven to himself not long ago that he could still play childish games, sprinting and capering across the fields and hiding in the shadows between crooked trees. He could fight; not well, perhaps, for his talents had always rested in duplicity. But this was an entirely different crusade, and as he stood at the edge of the dance floor, he couldn’t help but wonder just what had led him there.

The stars shone overhead, an incomprehensible number of them casting their meager light upon the tents. All that was missing was the signature aurora borealis that frequented the skies over the Basin, but it was unlikely they would find the lights here. Caela Insula was warm though, warmer than home and free of snow and icy winds. The Thief did not miss the cold, and even if he was still wary of standing upon the floating island, a great number of distractions had presented themselves. Now he looked out to the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces alike, his wandering gaze finally settling when a well-known voice reached his ears.

The Time Mender’s song was brief, ariose, adding to the melody Illynx’s companion had struck up with her stones, and honoring the God who had given them a home. He had heard Lena sing before, but her voice was no less enchanting this time. Once she had finished with her song, the Thief made his way towards her, gaze flicking over the mares and children who had gathered to dance, and spotting only two young stallions in their midst. Smiling to himself, he drew up alongside Lena with a crafty glint in his eye. Her presence set him at ease, even when surrounded by such a large, exultant congregation. “You have a lovely voice,” he said quietly, almost hesitantly, and offered her an amicable grin. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to dance. Would you care to teach me?”

@[Lena]