Sun Mote Copse Wind singing in the willows

"A universal man," Wraen remarked, feeling a little surprised, but at the same time envying Figment for his contendness in his simple existance. Now, nearing her fourth year of life she had calmed down consideraby and was less impulsive than before, but still she had not quite given up on the hope, belief - if you choose to call it so - that there was still something great for her to do. That being a Sovereign here was not the end of her journey. She could do so much more. 

"I will know, who to call, when I have an odd job that needs to be done," she smiled at him. "Should we go and see Niamh's buggers now?" she suggested. "I have yet to meet them in the person and the flesh and, while we go there, you can already prepare me for the worst," she joked. "Or the best - whichever you choose."