The festival was soon – it was coming quickly now and Tangere has suddenly found herself with nothing in preparation for her task. She has this teeny problem with thinking of all these wonderful things she never does, or at least procrastinates to the billionth degree. Not this time, she tells herself, this time she will gather all those things she wanted to have for the baths at the Festival. She can almost be certain Alby won't be much help, but maybe he'll surprise her. She's quite looking forward to working with Tiamat, she has always seemed so sweet and delightful company from afar. Tangere doesn't remember ever formally meeting her before, so that'll be nice.

Tangere and her companion set off from the eastern border (into the Steppes) and off toward the ice bridge that connects the north to the rest of the unfrozen world below. Phrixus gains altitude by the second until he can hardly be seen, patrolling everything wiggling and slithering below. He relays his weather predictions to her as he cuts through the morning haze above – the rain will drift in later, by the time they reach the Meadow it will be raining, he tells her. She picks up her pace to a trot and dips onto a familiar path through the denseness of some ancient pines. The sky is only mildly hazy and gives the pale raven plenty of maneuvering space to fly above and navigate from a greater height.

There are no surprises along the way and the trip is a rather uneventful one.

She arrives on the outskirts of the fragrant flower filled meadows in the later evening, this is ok, she knows what she's after. Phrixus circles above while she gets straight to work looking for the lavender patch she knows is here. She soon discovers it's much more south than she remembers, it's been so long, but she eventually does find what she's looking for. “Help..” The voice, her inner voice, rings between them both but not aloud. Phrixus curves his wings and cuts through the air to land gracefully onto her withers. Old scars tell the tail of less graceful times. It's been a long time now, since they've had each other, and things like reconnecting (physically or mentally) are no longer done with any difficulty. He watches her snap off each choice twig with bright purple tips until she has a solid bunch. The sprigs are pungent, their scent spreading from where the pair collect their aromatic bounty. Tangere hands her companion a bundle for him to carry with his feet, and one smaller bundle for his mouth. Once he's loaded he flies away with his instructions. “Drop at home, at the cave, then come back. Fly safe – avoid any dangers, come right back if you see anything strange. Not worth it. Drop the lavender if you have to.” Her anxiety prevents her from letting him fly off without stressing how important it is that he keep himself from harm. A life without Phrixus would be no life at all.

While he's gone she continues collecting, only taking the best candidates and making a small pile with them. The entire area is alive with the strong smell of lavender. It's a normal smell over this way, because of the small lavendula bushes scattered about, but her stirring them up certainly strengthened the fragrances and makes it carry off in every which way. Now she must find cord to tie up bundles for easier carrying. Now it's time to hunt down some thin yet viable vine...

She's been alone for sometime now, he should be back very soon, she guesses. Busily she hums and works away the few hours she has to herself. The bees are working alongside her, buzzing and blissfully enjoying the bounty that is enough for everyone to enjoy. Her piles are building up now, a half a foot or so each, four neat mounds of purple. “ There.” She flicks her cropped tail with accomplishment lighting her hazelnut eyes.

Something rustles and catches her attention.

Ears alert, eyes searching. She finds a mare, a unicorn, and her bay body slinks into the light. Tangere greets her with a quaint smile. “Hello there to you.” She grins deeper and steps forward to meet the woman properly and look her over. Her silver eyes enamor Tangere's thoughts for a moment, there is something darker swimming in them, she thinks. The stranger seems friendly enough though, and the silvery pinto lets it be, keeping the thought tucked just behind the rest in case there is need for weariness.

“Oh!” Her chipper voice is as small and slight as her, not quite dainty but far from round sounding. She's smaller, plumper and thicker than the bay, she notices. “Well it's kind of a rough journey,” She eyeballs the mare's thoroughbred shapes and dips, “But if you think you can accompany me north, I could use some help taking these bundles home. I have no bag for them.” She clicks her tongue with mocking disapproval, “Sorry sorry, I am Tangere, I'm from the Basin. ” Just then Phrixus descends to grab her withers and point a beady blue eye at the women before them. “And this,” Tangere's wind-chime laugh bubbles from her pink lips, “This is Phrixus.” She pokes the mammoth raven lovingly, coaxing him to perhaps not stare so hungrily at her.