Arrow Lake i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;

✹☾❂

 

Eleuthera moved swiftly from the Empire. Her mission, as Orlaith had detailed it to her — it was now complete. She was not far from home, and all she had to do was simply return and be sheltered within the willows. It was all perfectly simple, really. Do your job. Go home.

But Eleuthera didn’t go home. 

She descended from the mountain range, with its peaks and valleys that she knew so well, and began to travel on the flatlands to the east. As a seasoned nomad, she knew better to tire her fineboned frame by traveling at unnecessary elevations or over rough terrain. Then she moved in a southbound trajectory at a quick, easy, soulful stride. Her new mission, which she had unceremoniously placed upon herself, was to hone in on the Saints’ position and locate their new packland. According to Orlaith, they hadn’t pinpointed it exactly — yet.

Her feet pranced above the earth, yet her stride was quick! The lilac fae woman raced across the hills and valleys and the face of the planet, feeling the good vibrations well up from deep within the strengthening and stretching of her muscles. As she trotted, her mind lively wandered. She wondered what the future held. She mused upon these new Faeries she found herself amongst. She thought about how she often still felt so alone at night, in the dark, without her brother at her side.

She wondered if Séamus would be proud of her. 

By the time she had made it to the lake near the southern fringe of mountains, Eleuthera was panting hard to haul fresh breath into her heaving lungs, but the smile on her face clearly expressed the joy in it. From there, she meandered through the beginnings of a meadowed area, and as the treeline began to thin, the chiming sound of rushing waters grew.

She began to murmur, singing under her breath — not words or lyrics per se; but many cooing melodies and sounds that were in all rights, nonsensical. It was a curious thing, that the swirling current of the lake did not drown out her voice completely. Rather, it seemed to be its perfect accompaniment. The twists and turns of the bright, aqueous sounds danced with her low crooning, coming together to create something that dazzled her ears and commanded her own rapt attention. Like this, she sat at the water’s edge. 

She had heard singing before, but she had never heard music.

Takes place a few days after this thread
I hope this isn’t too far, @Revui?