Blackfeather Woods wasn't as mystical as promised. The place was nothing more but ruins and broken promises, a place to leave whatever love she still held for her family. A Melonii she was no more, but the name she had to bear 'till the faithful day she would meet her husband - or wife. The sprite had traveled far, beyond the familiar and into the unknown - on her back still sat the curious creature she had named Loinnir, wings sometimes spreading as he stretched giving her the appearance of an angel. She had fed him, let him drink with her, and he was regaining the strength he lacked when she had found him. She wondered if, when he was fully recovered, he would leave her beyond like so many had done before.

She knelt at the river bed, salmon tongue lapping up the icy cold water to replenish her stamina. The bird hopped to the ground, his little beak sipping some of it up too. What do you need it for? You've been riding on my back since I found you. She mumbled to her companion between her laps. Loinnir cooed apologetically, hopping back on her rescue cape. Now, where to, good friend?

Lumiya had never seen the sea - had never even climbed a mountain until a few weeks ago. She was experiencing the world like a newborn, exploring every nook and cranny she could stick her mystifying head in. That was how she had found her companion, by actively looking for something. She didn't know what it was yet, be it a soulmate or a purpose, but she knew that whenever it would come to her she'd know what her destiny had in store. For her mother, her destiny had been laid out the moment she had laid eyes on her father. The sprite, however, hoped her destiny entailed something more... interesting.

Her train of thought halted and her heart fluttered. She flowed in her movements as she turned to see who had come to greet her so unexpectedly, Loinnir poking his adorable head out from behind her neck. Excuse us. She nearly sang, her voice a mix of tranquility and allure. The other almost looked part of the wintertide landscapes, were it not for the rivers of gilt strands that weaved into her ashen coat - her eyes like frozen pools brimming with knowledge yet laced with secrecy.