Airs of the tempestuous and turbulent maneuvered and shifted; amidst the altering doldrums, she was amiss and befuddled, confused and bewildered, incapable of perceiving why the Lord of the Hidden Falls needed her. Her brow reflected the uncertainty, a brow lifted in innocent inquiry, sienna gaze strangled and narrowed into an uneasy, disquieted forefront. The lilt of her harmony cast over the icy bluff, rounding over the wild edges and chaotic brim. “Oh?” As she dipped down the glacial shoal, a beckoning, fluid march, as if she’d clambered down icy chambers and maelstrom caverns all her life, blending into the bedlam reverie and exotic, feral inhabitance; once they’d been mired in these depths, and as if her feet had never forgotten the blighted absolution, she polished her footfalls across its chiseled palace. While nymph and kitsune wandered towards the gilded King, her sentiments transpired in an aloof convolution, distorted and warped towards the methods of his madness. The only recent contact they’d had between the rustling falls, with its beautiful, wild verdantry, that she knew of, had been the drifting of invitations, and before then, an attempt at peace and armistice, only to be thwarted and refused soon after. Were they in need of a healer? Was someone terribly wounded? The notion was distressing, but surely they had their own mender, and Midas, though shivering and shuddering in the barren landscape, certainly didn’t seem terribly apprehensive or harrowed. Was something else amiss, drifting amongst the unknown, clawing and clambering their way through the shackles and chains of the world? Incapable of biting down the wayward happenstances, she merely lifted an easy smile to her features, as if wan and serenaded by the virtuous courtyards and the divine parlors, never tracing her steps into the demanding, sinister regions of their twisted, narrow livelihoods. Upon reaching his front, she extended a proper nod of respect, courtesy and civility pressed and ardent in her finessed movements, while Imogen settled near her forelegs once more, a scrutinizing smidgen of ivory. Even if they were not always readily given the same regard, Lena assured and ensured she’d present the Basin, the aurora valleys, the beastly hallows, as a proper kingdom, polishing felicitations and deference to those who’d earned it. Her stare, melded and molded into further curiosity, rendered upon his own, and her harmonious, dulcet speech curled into the puffy fronds, breaths of the valorous. “What words are these?”