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Serenity in the basking glow of day, surrounding, mesmerizing, beautiful in its tranquil cordiality – to the sunken, sodden earth, it was a enigmatic blessing, containing the content nature of its palisade without the melancholy acts of inky shadows. They’d created it, this wondrous peace, where frailties were measured and calculated, where failures numbered and tallied, where snide smirks frosted lips and drove genial pursuits into the abyss. It was this consecrated, canonized warmth that made her heart leap, soothed, forgoing and forgetting the dreaded reasons for her arrival. The fragile emptiness of this aperture had been sullied and soiled by their blooming entities, essences of morality drenched, enamored, in kindred spirits. To think that it would ultimately end, meet its demise at their passing, whispers in the moonlight and soft murmurs of glee distorted by the next passerby, was disappointing; good things not to last. She wanted to commemorate, honor, these precious moments – for she had so very few. If only she could craft, like a magnificent artist, bring friends and comrades of the terrain together on canvas, as luminescent as they were in truth. Brushstroke after brushstroke, she would dip the vital caresses of soft, silken paint across the ivory screen and make it a heavenly reminder of beauty, undisturbed, assuaged tapestry of tenderness. Instead, it broke, distorting the image into vapor, gone.
Lena listened, composed, still, no longer the nymph but the indulgent swan, hanging upon words and phrases of lands she does not know. It is doomed to be the first difficulty she faced here, assuredly not the last, poised and lofting in the befuddling menagerie of pleasant descriptions, forests, coasts, foothills stretching to the horizon. A flutter of dread coiled in her stomach, the layers of uncertainty pulsing with that vibrant hesitancy of the unknown. Would she be welcomed? Would they be as friendly as those presented to her here and now? What was to be faced on this first journey? Which one was she doomed to disappoint? Questions addled for a few moments, and while she pondered, her smile disappeared, vexed and foreboding. It came back a minute time later, when her conviction and courage had managed to steel her heart into those valiant threads that had made her whole ages before. Dipping her head to each individual, she gallantly proceeded onward, finding her voice, stringing it to the pleasantries and hoping that no one was wounded by her decision; a choice by instinct alone. ”Thank you both for the invitations.” She paused, breathing a clean, cool intake of air, and began again. ”I believe I shall follow Aurelius.” She turned, swiftly now, to hush and settle what could have been ruffled feelings to the other occupant, the blessed little mare with an enormous heart. ”Poppy, may I still visit you?”
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