Such a delicate creature, it craved the nudging of a wind that anticipated the revival, too. The pink-mopped lassie was all for gentle encouragement. Having burrowed for deep earth stones to offer the beautiful Great Ones that flew, she stood with hands on her hips and surveyed. She scrunched her nose up and read the wind, could she make out a love-note; migration for pairing?


The creature skipped off down the knoll with a bunch of daisies in her one hand, maroon and mottled green the stones in her other. The Fair-E, Eidolon, magic sylph and self-proclaimed siren wore a dashing smile and insoucience, a favourite costume, as she headed through pastures rabidly green towards the height of the festival. Charcoal-curled wood and ebon streamers glistened in the distance. Wild eyed, she ran.


...In that direction.

One had to make note, for pixies could be terribly distracted, and Eidolon was no exception.