Wild Berry Meadow (m) And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear.

It takes her longer than it should, considering her vocation, to meander towards the meadow. Her pace is lulled by the whimsical nature of her spirit; she finds herself attracted to the new buds lining the earth, or drifting among the reeds of grass as they stand tall - nipping playfully at some, even though it does not satisfy her. The grassy taste of the reeds is off-putting and so she stops with the playful antics, and begins pecking bird-like at the springtime blossoms -- gathering some of them in to a haphazard pile, then losing interest there too. The things that used to appease Ibis have become pedestrian.

That is when she hears the heavy steps of something - someone, maybe - approaching her position. The slightest cant of her little face, and she can see him hiking closer. This broad-shouldered behemoth of a man, draped in a bruise-coloured coat with the most intriguing dark-cap to his face. She finds herself staring, but cannot look away even as her cheeks grow flush; her belly, the fire inside of it, flares. Wordlessly, Ibis drifts towards him - she is a sprite, a tiny mote of dust besides this giant, and as dangerous as he might be something allays her deepest animal fears.

She just wants to be closer.