"What is it you would see for yourself, daughter of Lantra?"

You glance askance at a platter of fox-shaped pancakes.

Glittering cavern of sapphire and emerald.
Glittering and sparkling endlessly, this cavern is filled with emeralds and sapphires from floor to ceiling. A pale light seemingly emanates from the air itself, becoming stronger and weaker like the ebb and flow of a stream. Strange refractions of the light conjure up images of unknown places and people, heatless mirages and shimmering visions that are often unidentifiable. Mists rise and blow away from the waterfall, further blurring the surreal images and glowing azure runes form and dissipate in the air, floating together in strange half-dances. An ethereal waterfall falls silently from overhead. Muginn, the ghost-feathered magpie perches here with a mischievous glint in his eye.
You see exits leading north, east, and west.

You resolve yourself to enter the waterfall, and step into its cool waters. You see myriad strange images, each as fleeting as the last before you emerge on the other side.

The Fulcrux of Lisaera.
At the foot of a towering precipice, an otherworldly fog conceals a silvery lake and its expansive banks, making ghosts of the trees which loom around it. Diffuse moonlight paints the surrounding woodland thicket with soft luminescence, infusing it with a quality at times mystical, at others uncanny. Both the bark of oak trees and the frothing fronds of lady ferns enjoy its touch, but so too do the shadows which stretch across the labyrinthine pathways leading further and deeper into the verdant tangle, their shifting silhouettes long, dark - bewildering and mysterious. Bracing and clean, the air tastes of evergreen sap dampened by the petrichor that follows a late summer's rain. An ethereal waterfall falls silently from overhead. Thrumming softly, a shimmering silver offering bowl stands upon a rounded pedestal here. Wreathed about in vines, an elegant altar shaped from shining silver stands here, bathed by moonlight. A large elegant compendium lies here.
There are no obvious exits.
You have recovered balance on all limbs.

Fluttering as if caught by a breeze, the silvery threads of tinsel weave about in a haphazard pattern: conjuring new constellations and shapes as they glow from the sidereal light of the wreath's fine filaments.

You have emoted: Cheliyi enters through the waterfall with silent but clearly awkward footsteps, the mugwump glancing warily around at her surroundings. She dips her head politely to the master shrine of Lisaera, squinting upwards at the cascades of moonlight with poorly concealed suspicion.

You think to yourself: **awkward, awkward, but you have to see for yourself, don't you? such differing opinions, and it is better to know that to be blind once more.**.

You glance askance at a large elegant compendium.
Softly, you say, "Hi hello. My name is Cheliyi, just wanted to see Your place, if you're listening. And drop by some foods, in case that is a thing You like."

You put a platter of fox-shaped pancakes into a shimmering silver offering bowl.
The flames within a shimmering silver offering bowl roar silently, obscuring a platter of fox-shaped pancakes. When the fire dies down, it is nowhere to be seen.

The mists of the woodlands shift and obscure, making diffuse the silver glow from high above.

You have emoted: Cheliyi glances down at the mists with a slight frown, one hand coming to rest of the glittering fog that clings to her own skin.

You think to yourself: **you definitely did not move enough to move that air-water.**.

These mists - not the mists which carry sidereal light, but those which are foreign to you - are wild and alive, coiling like creatures themselves as they slip between the ghostly silhouettes of the trees which tower all around you.

In the distance, silver orbs bob and dance, flicker and fade and burst to life once more, like dangerous, misleading willowisp spirits.

You think to yourself: **unbidden, flashes of Esei, shaken to their core as you console them, and a flicker of defiant irritation followed close behind by curiosity**.

You have emoted: Cheliyi watches the silver orbs in quiet, her head canting to an odd angle while her frills twitch attentively in an attempt to sense more of her surroundings. Perhaps against better judgement, she takes a cautious step closer, her tail sweeping behind her in a slow, methodical motion.

As the willowisps dance in the distance, it is curiosity that draws a presence closer to you, a willowy shape made visible in the caress of uncanny haze, smelling itself of pine and sap and summer rains.

"What is it you would see for yourself, daughter of Lantra?"

You think to yourself: **and then, perhaps more reasonably, Velcora as they speak praise after praise, reassuring you to trust that they will not be hurt, leaving your chest swirling with confusion-**.

You blink.
Surprised, you say, "Daughter of-."
You cough softly.
You have emoted: Cheliyi visibly composes herself, glancing up at the figure warily. "Well, Iyam, uh. What some people might call paranoids, I guessly."
With a hint of sheepishness, you say, "I did not expect to get a response."

Indistinct shapes move in the distance, obscured by silver fog.

You think to yourself: **a swell of distant pride, to be seen so, when was the last time you were seen as anything other than once-Glomdoring? no, no, irrelevant. there is information to be gathered**.

"This is a place of great power," the gossamer voice sings. Though the shape of a willowy figure stands so tall before you, the music of its words resounds from all around, and the orbs of flickering light dance to it even in the distance. "What troubles your thoughts, little star-ling, to bring you such caution and bravery both?"

You have emoted: Cheliyi stares up at the figure with clouded eyes, though confusion crosses her face as her head instinctively swivels to try and find the source of the voice. The frills lining her head twitch this way and that, and she looks rather disoriented for a moment before she finally answers. "Bravery without cautions is just being stupid, I would thinks."

You think to yourself: **donotsayitdonotsayityouaresogoingtogetstabbed**.

With greater hesitance, you say, "I am a family person. They mean everything to mes. And I just... I have never met the Silver Lady, and I do not trust Elders readily, no. The plan was to give a gift, see if there was a response, and make my own judgement. Since I have... conflicting views, nows."

You think to yourself: **the urge to square your shoulders, be bigger so that you can shield someone who isn't even there, don't be ridiculous**.

You have emoted: Cheliyi rolls her shoulders, glancing down at her feet.

A halo of celestial light wells about you, the shells upon a shimmering wreath of seashells reflecting it outwards, painting your surroundings in a spray of oceanic hues.

Several of the moonlit globes appear through the mist, drawing nearer to the presence. No, they are not orbs. They are not even willowisps - they are mooncloak butterflies, their silver wings flashing with glittering, ethereal light as they descend.
When they part, they reveal a presence that does not tower, but simply stands, her hands held behind her back, her head tilted inquisitively.

You have emoted: Cheliyi blinks, squinting up at the lights with befuddlement written plainly across her features. When they reveal themselves to be butterflies, and then a person, she blinks even slower.

---> look lady

Tall, straight-backed, and eminently self-assured, this carefree elfen comports herself as though one with the woodlands surrounding her. Though a smile never strays overlong from her cheeks, her face is otherwise a composition of angles, lending her mien a vaguely owlish aspect further underscored by a pair of striking, wintry grey eyes. Midnight tresses knit into fastidious braids that run horizontally across her scalp, gathering away from her face to tumble in loosened, wind-kissed falls down her back. Vibrant as the first shoots of springtime, a simple gown of silken green hues pools about her with liquid softness, and silver threads lend its skirts a shimmer reminiscent of morning dew upon leaves. A simple silver-plated belt slings over her hip, securing an athame close to hand while simultaneously hugging her garment's fabric close to her willowy form. Her one choice of ornamentation circles her neck with dignified gravitas: a heavy sterling torc, its bulbous ends placing a pair of wolf heads to either side of the hollow in her throat. Underneath, as though framed by the lupine snarls, rests a pendant of the eternal Serenwilde upon a platinum chain, the golden medallion itself catching in the light.
A carefree elfen lady looks to be crushingly strong.
She weighs about 140 pounds.
You cannot see what a carefree elfen lady is holding.
It has the following aliases: lady, elfen.

Confused, you say, "Hello, yes."

A carefree elfen lady remains quiet for a moment longer as she studies you, a gentle smile resting upon the tug of her lips. "What doubt is it that clouds your heart?" she finally asks. "Does it help to see me, maybe? To have a face to talk to?"

With a cautious frown, you say, "I... guess it is goodly to have a face, yes. I could not tell where you were, before, apologies, yes. I see people more with what I hear than my eyes, they are very badly at the visions." She pauses again, one hand resting on ^ampoule, perhaps as an unconscious bid for comfort or strength. "I have met Elders that seemed kind and loving, and then were very much nots, no. I may have just been less wise back thens, but have made it a promise to never give to Someone who hurts those I love."

A rush of summer warmth passes through you as you smell grass and flowers and glimpse the limitless blue of a perfectly blue, sunlit sky.

Quieter, you say, "And if I can help it, to prevent my loved ones from getting hurts in the first place."
Glancing away, you say, "I think the Silver Lady or someone in Her order gave my sibl-..." There's a visible wince. "Esei something that has been upsetting thems. But I also know mine-wifes Velcora has had nothing but goodly things to say, so..."
Gesturing vaguely, you say, "Conflict."

"Mmm," a carefree elfen lady hums beneath her breath as she listens, her expression softening. She steps nearer to you - not uncomfortably close, but merely to close the distance, for comfortable conversation. Her footsteps make not a sound as they pass - it is as though twigs bend away rather than snap, that mosses and lady ferns cushion her bare feet, that mist covers her trail, little though it may be. "It is wise to be careful of whom you offer love to, Elder One or not. For there is Duality in each of us, and even the gentlest of Goddesses might burn with incandescent rage."

You blink.
As if the term itself were foreign, you say, "Eh? Duality?"
Like a gentle ripple in a crystalline pool, you say, "In my experiences, people either are, or are not."

You think to yourself: How strange, duality. To be and not be? That just feels like insincerity.

A carefree elfen lady still keeps her hands tucked behind her back as she tilts her head to the other side. "We are each by nature a Duality," she reaffirms, her gentle words firm nevertheless with silver. "Gentleness and hardness. Loving and hateful. Light and dark." She pauses, and scrutinizes you more closely before inquiring, "Your conflict speaks of a duality in itself, does it not? Paranoia and trust. You possess both of these things by your nature, even if you share but one or the other."

You have emoted: Cheliyi glances down to a carefree elfen lady's feet, eyeing the ferns and twigs with idle curiosity while she listens. "... I sees. I... did not think of it that way befores. I just have assumed that my conflict is me trying to decide which will win out. Are saying to just have both emotions is fine?" Her tail curls at her feet, scarred frills coming to rest around a single ankle. "Because feels like being untruthful, to act one way at a time and another at the next, yes."

"It is not untruthful but the most truthful you can be." Smiling, a carefree elfen lady steps lightly past you, the mists swirling to her every bare, unmarked footfall, until she comes upon the nearby lake of glassy water. The ghostly trees climb all around, thick and greedy, leaning over it but never touching - the lake is easily the most open place in this manifestation of the Silver Goddess's power. "You are..." she pauses, searching for the right word. "Close? To the one who is known as Esei? And this is, in part, what drew you here to me?"

You have emoted: Cheliyi makes a face at a carefree elfen lady's question, following behind her steps after a moment of hesitation. "... Yes? Is complicateds. But I love them very much, have for a long time. They were my family, and I still think of them in that way even if they no longer see me as a sibling." The mugwump glances down thoughtfully at the lake, her feet firmly planted out of reach of its silvery sheen. "So... yes. They were upset, which was a differents reaction than my Velcora's, yes."

The horizon glows with burnished shades of orange and red, heralding the imminent arrival of Father Sun upon the rim of the world.

You glance askance at a carefree elfen lady.

You think to yourself: **once again, the swell of protectiveness that you could never quite stamp out, no matter how many times they tried to push out your heart with cruelty, you are family, and this is a truth**.

When followed from behind, a carefree elfen lady's tucked hands reveal she holds nothing, conceals neither weapon nor unpleasant secret out of view when she faces you. She nods thoughtfully as she listens, lowering herself to sit upon the water's bank as she does, and watches the fog which hovers above roll across its surface, thick and still alive with something that inspires their movement. "A shame," she murmurs finally, then looks sidelong at you. "They offered me a gift, a lovely bottle of tea. And so I offered them a blossom of mine own making. After speaking with them, I had imagined that they, being a child of shadow, would prefer such to an offering of my moonlit blessings."

Slowly, you say, "I sees."

Musing to herself as she looks out once more toward the lake, a carefree elfen lady says, "Perhaps it is that they think themselves unworthy of the gifts of others. Or perhaps the tea was meant as a message?"

You have emoted: Cheliyi follows suit, sitting by the edge a respectful distance away from the water. "They usually give teas as just gift gifts, yes. No messages. They like using their words for those, yes."
With a hint of dryness, you say, "Or the aethers."

A carefree elfen lady nods to your words, her silver eyes sparkling. "I had sensed no such message in the offering, but I know little of how thick the Silent One's shadows gather about them."
A carefree elfen lady relaxes her hands upon her silver-green skirts. Her silvery eyes fixed directly upon the clouded surfaces of your own, she says, "It is important to make offerings in kind when offerings are made unto you."

You have emoted: Cheliyi's frills twitch, and she frowns, but makes no comment until a carefree elfen lady finishes speaking. "... They love the Lord Silent very muchly, yes. And they are a very goodly wyrd person. Or, well, good in the Wyrd's eyes. It is their tah'vrai, yesly." The mugwump stares back through her tinted spectacles, lips pursed pensively. "And, I guess that makes sense. Is a good rule, to return kindness."

A carefree elfen lady nods, then glances out once more, something troubled tarnishing her silver eyes, flecking them with darker, duller greys. "And what do you think of the Silent Lord? Of their place in the wyrd? Of their bindings?"

You have emoted: A flash of poorly concealed anger flits across Cheliyi's clouded gaze, the mugwump pressing her lips thin. Attempting, yet failing to keep her voice level, she says, "The Silent Lord, He is very... investeds in the Wyrd. And He has always been good for and to Esei." Her frills flare out, bristling, "But not to my family. Not to my Dad. And though I used to be His, it is not something I look back on with happiness, no. Only disgust for myself."

The mists stir around you with your every word - not those mists you choose to veil yourself in, but those without, those which belong to the Silver Lady.

You glance askance.

The nod that a carefree elfen lady offers is a sad one, one with her eyes closed, as though she feels the pain underneath the anger in your words. "Then they are strong in spirit," she says softly, "for them to care for you despite the will and whim of their Lord. Perhaps you are their light in the shadows."

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.
Softly, you say, "I doubt its. People have said before, that we are respectively bad influences. I am too Light for Esei, and they are too Shadow for me."
You wave your hand dismissively.
Like a gentle ripple in a crystalline pool, you say, "It doesn't matters, anyways."

"You must understand the wyrd is corruption," a carefree elfen lady says gently to you, no judgment in her words as she opens her eyes once more, no defensiveness, no anger. No - there is but quiet sadness shining in her once-more silvery gaze. "Shadows themselves are not, however. Darkness is not. And the opinions of others, as you say, do not matter." She draws back and rises in a smooth and fluid motion, her limbs filled with ethereal grace.

You blink.
Quietly, you say, "Yeah."
Standing up, you say, "Thanks muchly for talking with me. And for the wisdom."

You think to yourself: **a quiet unease, with those words, and yet, they feel true. the trees, your siblings.... the wyrd changes and corrupts. They call it strength, but you left for a reason.**.

A carefree elfen lady offers both her hands forward toward you, her slender fingertips lightly curled. "May I?"

You blink.
Surprised, you say, "Alrights."

The forest's gathered mists coil about your limbs, their tendrils invigorating and cool.

You have emoted: Cheliyi gently takes a carefree elfen lady's hands, her bandaged fingers curling lightly against the other woman's palms.

A carefree elfen lady gently takes both your hands, then steps in close through the ever-thickening mists.
A carefree elfen lady whispers in your ear and your vision lapses momentarily as the memories of lives past unfold before your mind's eye, each as fleeting, and as vital, as a breath. The wisdom of the turning cycles moves you, and as the vision ends, you revel in the hale fragrance of new life suffusing the air.

You blink.

Lisaera, the Silver Goddess has bestowed Her divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 10 months.

You have emoted: Cheliyi inhales softly, blinking rapidly as her frills twitch this way and that. "Ah, uh, thank You, yes."

When the spectral blossoms fade, a carefree elfen lady draws back, smiling a simple and guileless smile. "Light and dark," says she, and then the mists swallow her whole.

You have emoted: Cheliyi stays in place for a moment, hands still outstretched as she seems to process the last few minutes in surprised silence, Then, she nods, cracking a slight smile.

Like a gentle ripple in a crystalline pool, you say, "Hope you have a nicely months, or years, or uh... yeah."
You bow respectfully to the master shrine of Lisaera.
You purse your lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as you carefully gather your thoughts.
As you lay The Sacred Pyres' Opalescent Brazier of Lofty Supremacy upon the shining silver altar, its tangled vines stir to life, crawling over the offering and sinking in their aerial roots. Soon they smother the sacrifice completely, draining it of all there is until naught remains but dust, all traces of vital essence surrendered to Lisaera, the Silver Goddess.

You incline your head politely to those around you.
You resolve yourself to enter the waterfall, and step into its cool waters. You see myriad strange images, each as fleeting as the last before you emerge on the other side.