Lena cherished the elements of the earth, enjoyed the warmth of spring and the dovetails of summer, the crisp churn of autumn and the chilling, biting course of winter. She beloved the convictions of boughs and arms nestled over her frame, so that she blended into wood and fern, she loved the quiet promises the listless, languid air offered, and she turned her head towards the sky when it declared mercy upon their restless souls. Even now, as the pulse of the rain caressed their flesh, inviting, coaxing, cajoling, she lifted her eyes to its radiance, allowed the shelter of its embrace to swallow her seraphic bliss. Sylph and fey, she granted the whims of her fanciful ministrations, hummed a rhythmic aria that laced, pulsed, intertwined with the rain, sweet, soft murmurs to match the pattern of sprinkling reverie and rapture. Like a whisper, like a hymn, it reminded her of serenity, of tranquility, of songbirds fluttering their feathers, of the dulcet lullabies murmured in some distant dream, some far off trance. It stroked her memory of favored brethren, of Huyana, who persuaded the water to flow, and Aurelius, who laughed and smiled at their delight. It recalled moments drenched and soused, a child in the eaves and leaves of nothingness, with only the company of the softly falling drops cascading down her pelt, left to the portal of desolation, yearning for more utopia in a place that could offer none. Had this child brought the sultry waves, the light drizzle that tore away a foggy mind, that clarified and cleansed cordial essences? Could she wipe away the mist of melancholy, the forlorn abyss? The nymph couldn’t help but be inspired by such things, to twist and yearn for the soothing bulb of repose, florets, blooms that never withered, flowers that never decayed. Could her trill influence the void too, amongst the chorus of bells, carols and musings?

She brought her gaze to rest back upon the creature come to life in the trickle and splash of the sky. What was she? Another brilliant, luminescent youth tracing the embrace of ocean, pondering over life’s desires? What did she crave in this world? What made her leave from her own? Was she like the rain, the water, always flowing, always moving: a constant, unwavering force that could smile and strike in the same instant? Did she call for them like a siren, welcoming, convincing, sultry and beguiling, until the moment where they met rock, rubble and stone? The honeyed fairy moved to meet the proffered maw of the sea femme, a gesture of affable, amiable delight, hoping to have found a similar creature in a world, in a kingdom, of dusk, shadow and mystery. Her surprise at Imogen’s appearance was amusing, Lena curled her grin into an even grander gesture, flicking her attention briefly to the ivory kitsune, and subsequently swinging her head towards the scion. With only the briefest hesitation, the companion sidled forth, tails swinging as droplets fell over her once pristine coat, nose reaching for the brine child’s front hooves, chirping and chittering at her in welcome. With her own version of song and sincerity, the kit established a bright, peaceful greeting, and backed away only a few steps thereafter to ensure Lena’s presence remained.

And so she did; brewing a dulcet trill that beckoned forth gracious, pleasant tunes, mellifluous strings gifted in delicacy and compassion. “A pleasure, Tiamat.” She paused briefly, stole another breath of the humid air, felt the rain continue to fall over her body, and enjoyed the ardor of the haze. “This is Imogen.” Her stare fell once to the fox at her daggers, then again to the youth of foam, zephyrs and waves. She wished to get to know her better, the one who belonged to the ocean, who could dance upon ripples and splash in pools, who could linger in currents and dabble in a world that would otherwise restrain, hinder and demolish those who tried to conquer its passions. How does a daughter spring from its depths, lost to the cool winds and chilling halls? Her voice filtered again, through the inquiries, through the enchantments and charms, towards elegant musing again. “The ocean is a wonderful place. What brings you away from its tides?”