Perhaps the day was to become even more profound, infinitely better, grander, because they’d settled into fairy hearts and dove tails, secrets of soothing natures and aspiring knowledge, and for the nymph sage, who yearned for sweeping tales of newfound herbs or who craved the earnestness of others, there could be nothing better. Her smile was radiant and pure, divine, scaling past massive walls of rubble and ruin, marching along to the tunes of minuets and satin waltzes; aligned to the foothills, to the valleys, to the patchwork clouds of cotton and lace. She paused in her excitement, in her ebullience, heart restless, enamored (because fellow healers rarely came along to them; she’d bestowed numerous bundles of greenery to those in the Throat and the misty Edge, but they hardly ever appeared here, in the midst of the mountains) to address Mortuus Nox in his appearance, grin wide and full, bobbing her head in greeting. The Songbird nearly balked at Tiamat’s reverence of her too, blushing slightly, cheeks turning a radiant rose before casting the sentiments aside with another embellished, fixated smile, all sunshine and daffodils beneath the luminescent warmth of the summer vestiges. “I’m so pleased to meet a fellow healer! I’d be happy to assist you in anything,” and it was the truth, spun from the gilded passion of her lips, Imogen dancing a trill ahead of them as they walked, further and further towards the wondrous greenhouse, where they intended to deposit their latest findings.
 
But, something else caught her attention – a name, prospered by Tiamat and Lyanna both, Glasgow, and her smile never yielded, eager to give ample praise to the one who’d created their glorious veneer and recently returned. “I’ve seen her recently,” the nymph supplied, her token amiability and warmth flickering through her singsong melody, courting its buoyancy amidst the atmosphere, poising her eyes back upon the pegasus, hoping to kindle some relief towards the woman in search of her friend. “Cassius brought her to the Basin. I believe she’s joined our crafters.” And then, her maw swept towards the remarkable greenhouse, with its perfected, glazed surface, its sheer outline, its wondrous capability of storing their important wares. “In fact, Glasgow was the Edge’s Glazier who constructed the greenhouse for us,” adding to Tiamat’s information, winking indulgently before meandering closer and closer, ducking beneath the door and assisting Imogen in placing their chosen herbs beside their brethren. A belle, a seraph, a piece of the peaks and earth, molded and refined by its harsh winds and its ruffian defiance, she chimed from within the hold’s lustrous chambers, blooming and blossoming, ready to accommodate or support in any way she could. “Was there anything specific you wished to learn?” Her eyes turned to Mortuus and Tiamat both – for together, they held an infinite world of proficiency, skill, and mastery.