Hopeful serenades, forgotten scars, crowns of laurels and roses, rising, virtuous benedictions, and warm, effervescent chimes resounded from the glimpse of the dancing pair. It felt like ages since they’d last waltzed, bridged over ponds and puddles with sumptuous, easygoing melodies, with wondrous, elegant strides, with a flick of a limb, an extension of a pillar, stirrings of florets and blossoms, incandescent, silken movements, minuets on petals, boleros on strings, laughter coiling through the satin motions, the glistening croons. Like two sprites, they twisted on the breeze, cascaded across the horizon, giggling in the wind, varnishing and lacquering enlightenment, stirring intricacies, glancing throughout the heavenly veils and beatific oeuvres as if they were a part of the masterpiece, brushstroke for brushstroke, caress for caress. Gone were the segments and snippets of horrific venues, no longer bleeding behind her eyes, no longer attached to her songs, soothed, assuaged, melded, mended, and molded together in delicate, intricate threads, plaited and sewn one by one in luminous, radiant stitches. Seraphic plumage, roots and soil, charms and feathers, sparks and fire, dazzled into their honeycomb depths, reeling in open, whimsical delights, one leaping on a giggle, the other following in an intertwined trance, lion hearted dreamers bartering with the seasons. The fairies touched over the fineries, the intrigue, of summer’s last, lingering days, felt the cool rush of Orangemoon hastening over their pelts, rummaging the skin for another spell, another taste of the constant ebb and flow, and could only whisper to the leafy brethren, the long, waving tresses of greenery, murmuring over what the next tide would bring. Insatiable, mystical, enigmatic, tender, and benevolent, they graced the space of open fields and yearning plains, striking against damnation, obliterating temptation, sinuous, unwinding serpentine maneuvers under the cordial sun, blending into mellifluous, harmonic cadence, cheery and jovial amidst the strains of amiability; cordial refrains, basking in the sun-kissed reaches, lissome, willowy, bending but never breaking. Spun by fortitude, raptured by perseverance, hastened by salvation, they merely slipped into the waves of grain, the nymph carefully raising her head towards the heavens, the kitsune embarking down a further lane, both too restless, too wild, to be stirred towards anything but abrupt, fey movement, capricious and indulgent, fanciful and dainty.

The repose ended as quickly as it’d begun: ushered away by stinging nettles, by coiled serpents, by hostile statures and beleaguered entities. Imogen chirped from beyond, abrupt and scrambled, not a carillon distinction, not a song of affability, but urgency, flanked by a distinct growl, a harsh, unrelenting recoil forcing the pair back into reality.

Lena became the follower, hastily swiveling behind ivory tails and curling thistles, mind trickling over the possibilities of the kitsune’s ire, but her eyes revealed the answer soon thereafter, and speculation was no longer necessary. A familiar figure lay nestled in the grass, speckled and winged, and at first glance the Songbird yearned to burst into fantastic smiles and graceful grins, Rei’s company had been gracious and sweet, a token of fresh air from the avenues and corridors of the Threshold, but upon her approach, the smiles faded, features furrowed, and a stoic, calm composition stole over her. Instantly, she was the ignited physician, kneeling beside the femme’s swelling frame, gaze ghosting from the distended leg, with its munitions and ramparts still showcasing the brief reign of brutality: fangs, embedded and punctured, enlarging the wound, the pillar, with toxic rancor. While Imogen quickly meandered along the scent of the serpent, the gentle, affable dignity of the sylph regarded Rei warmly, stare riveting upon the cloistered egg for a fraction of a second, comprehension dawning, sentiments understanding. The femme had guarded something precious, something worth saving, had rendered redemption and liberation to a tiny creature who may have otherwise perished without her. The story, the tale, was no surprise. Her voice, sweet, ambrosial, and eternally beatific, mused, speculated, breathed felicity and dulcet reveries across the void. “You did a wonderful job protecting it, Rei.” Eyes lowered, lashes brushed against cheeks, glowing and radiant, an angel in the meadow, hastened the clockwork of time, the fervent, ardent touch of hours and minutes. “Give me a moment.” Quickly, hastily, she gathered her powers, allured, transfixed, the finesse of a delightful, brilliant luster, whittled time into her possession, seized a god’s divine power, and spent it all upon the spotted Pegasus. Like a mere whisper, like a tiny croon, like a brief murmur, it coasted, glided, trickled along the pathways of a snake’s fang, diving into the barbaric interludes, the feverish walls, absconding the poisonous brine, swallowing and consuming the callous armaments. When it seemed complete, she opened her eyes again, armed with splendor, armed with opulence, winking and incandescent. “Does that feel better?”