Of all the magic that Helovia bestowed to it's people, the craft of healing was perhaps the most serene she had ever encountered; the lines of weariness that had etched the bay mare's normally supple features reverted into her soft, demure expression. Her amber gaze seemed fixated upon Illynx's spine, a sensation that brought a bit of discomfort to the ravaged warrior of a woman, perhaps even shame. She found that there was no sort of pity in the look, at least from her perspective, easing the knot that threatened to expand and devour her heart in the fleeting moments of silence between the accumulation of Lena's power and the first delicate notes of song, her own golden gaze tearing itself from the enchantment that was written all across the healer's face and focusing instead upon the resting frame of the kitsune upon her haunches.

The first notes hummed across her skin, sending every severed edge to tingling as if lit up but fantastic flames that pleasantly warmed the flesh rather than scalded it. To each bounding note, Illynx clung her ears, her gaze watching the slumbering fox-devil with an intensity that betrayed her desire to witness the struggle of the magic as it swept across Lena's face. It would perhaps be too much, to see her wane and ebb with the pull of her song, the guilt the Lady would feel over the pressure she applied to the seemingly spent healer perhaps enough to send her away.

But that fire; it was so wondrous.

No longer did the deep ruts in her flesh burn under the open air, the dried blood about the edges cracking and flaking to the earth as the wounds stitched themselves shut, brindle becoming as whole as it ever had been upon the spine of the Gilded Blade, her own gaze shutting tight as the last notes of the song streamed upwards into the mountain sky, the burning it's most intense as the final strands of sinew had regained their proper place. And then, suddenly, the sensation stopped, the final words of Lena's song pounding into her temples, a residual pain of that which no longer plagued her back and shoulders, the rump that had been brutalized by the blue's wicked tail.

"I have never..." she whispered, her lids fluttering back open to find Lena still held in the throws of her power, "why have I refused this all my life?" The last words slid from her lips, still barely above a whisper, the unicorn suddenly filled with a vigor that had not been a part of her since well before the battles had ever been dreamed of and a vibrant devotion to the subtle twists and bends of the magic that permeated the air. She stumbled forward a few paces to rest a dark tinged nose upon the shoulder of the nearly shuddering song weaver, breathing in her soft scent as she regained her voice and unsure how to draw the bay back from her trance other than the gentle touch and a few, simple words, "A beautiful song, Lena." Perhaps you are an angel.