L E N A
you'll be all right

Prosperity shattered, tossed, thrown against the rocky cliffs of their former home, and like the rough sea below, it tore apart the fragmented remnants of another time, another place. Before, she would have been able to offer shelter and sanctuary to wayfaring, wandering souls, and now, as she made her way towards the Threshold, there was no roof to protect and secure, no food to engulf and devour, no water to lap and quench. All she could extend were the nuances of the flat, wind-blown Steppe, frosted and chilled, glacial and intrepid. The shambled sentiments themselves were a grave mixture of deceit and rancor, a bitter, cold shell that offered little promise but the sanctity of company, a vengeful group of horned kin that yearned, desired, and thirsted for the sanguine burst of guidance, divinity and affluence again. Would someone hasten to such a decree? Would someone allow their minds to become fused, knotted, and entangled with a splintered tribe?

Yet, still, Lena traversed the nomadic world, a gypsy once more, determined and stalwart, resolute and unwavering, crossing over realms of ice and snow to beckon some solitary creature to unite with wounded, hungry beasts. Where sorrow threatened to consume her moral flesh, she found the power of tenacious commitment, pulling against her bones and blood, tearing away the broken enamel of misery, continuing onward, in search for fresh creatures, ones that could help mend the porcelain shards driven into their vindictive hearts. Elegance mustered and mastered along her limbs, sienna body turned to gold in the precious sunlight of a winter’s day, essence of ethereal entity not yet lost in the Siberian interludes. She raised her head to the skies and drank the cool portals of loss and light, the serenade of regrowth and renewal buried under the weight of solidified crystals. When a new scent captured her nares, drove them towards an unfamiliar being, her steps grew lighter, airy, forgetting the bruising ailments that had once afflicted them. She followed, tracing the pattern of hoofmarks lodged within the snow, a pathway of distinction, until she finally reached the newcomer. He was easy to spot, of the same hues as she, dark, rich bay tossed against the slender columns of ivory ice, but his tapestry boasted lighter coloration. Could he be one of these willing beasts, thrust into an unfamiliar world, eager for the adventure that awaited them? Would he be one of the amenable, ready to help them restore, rebuild in the shades of retribution and reprisal? Lena allowed herself a soft smile as she drew to a halt a few yards away from his presence, ducking her head cordially in a polite nod, before raising it to prior position, proud, benevolent, eyes opening to a candor she’d forgotten in the midst of battle. Even her vocals, unused recently in fear they’d erupt in a trembling sob, resonated with their old, mellifluous grace, incapable of forgetting their precious, rich clarity. "Welcome to Helovia. I'm Lena." She almost broke then, pausing swiftly before she’d proclaimed “of the World’s Edge.” For she wasn’t now – only belonging to a shambled, distorted group of lost heathens and saints. "Who are you? What do you seek?" And - can I provide it?

L E N A
you'll be all right

She settled herself into a graceful, dignified refinement, posture elegant, serene, tranquil, seemingly undaunted by the plagues swirling in her head, the indignant, primrose path her kin traversed. Her heavy heart couldn’t be noticed by a wanderer, couldn’t be segmented and pinpointed by a wayfaring gaze; she’d be undoing her own mission. Instead of drawing back into her quandaries, her warm eyes, allowed to soften in the wings and tapestries of the threshold, studied this Totem. He took some time to deliver his answers to her queries – had he never thought about what to take from his life? Lena had made goals in her short period on earth, dreams and aspirations that were proffered to the heavens, one or two managing to sprout buds, blossom with silken petals, before being torn asunder by other possessions. What did this steed want from Helovia? What did he design and desire? Or, did he wander for wandering’s sake, alone, adrift, exploring what routes the world had to extend, before touching upon this one? But he answered, and she listened, expression curious, youthful, inquisitive, an old portal of her livelihood fastened to her countenance. Someplace I can settle…I find travelling irritating. Ah, wrong on one count, but upon the former, she could at least manage to muster an invitation. She smiled again, traced a grin across her dainty lips. “Perhaps I can propose a solution to your straying.” Benevolent and melodic, she drew her voice to satin threads, soft, aloft, holding the strings of sorrow together in a peaceful, harmonic aria. “Currently, my herd is in a period of regrowth, and have established a portion of the Frostbreath Steppe for ourselves. Would you be willing to help us rebuild?” We lost, but we’re not beaten. Could you provide us one more soul to help rejuvenate, revitalize, and reclaim our glory?

L E N A
you'll be all right

At his response, her old smile, once faded and distraught, ignited, proud, triumphant, glowing in a former luminescence. Here was a step, solidified and almost confirmed, that they’d be capable of blooming from their cindered, crumpled ashes, that the earth was eager for them to reclaim a right to growth. This Totem, though unfamiliar, would represent the slightest blossoming, nimble hope, that had begun to flutter in her chest, butterfly wings, soft and silken, but at the very least, present, real, capable of surmounting a more regal stature. The stag wouldn’t know it, couldn’t be aware of how much Lena appreciated his answer, but she hoped to provide these nimble, nymph thoughts with her wholesome grin, her warm eyes, her reawakened, aspiring candor. The sylph’s words, alight and optimistic, confident and buoyant, caressed the walls of the threshold with an open ease, a blissful incarnation. “Yes. Our leader will have to accept you.” But did he have anything to worry about – was he not capable, stalwart, strong, same as they, atop the rugged icy steps? She didn’t believe their glacial sovereign would turn him away, not when they were so needy, so worn, so fragile. “Shall I lead you there?” She tossed him another smile, before sauntering off into the wilderness, goading him to follow along the murky pathways, the lost trails, to another world, another place, that so desperately craved the churning of new blood.

[I shall make a thread for you in the Steppe. ^_^]