Nephele
Nephele's empathy for non-Fae is not terribly high, so she'd had no qualms with flying away when the Fiat Lux monster had destroyed the festival. Had she regretted some of the demises? Yes. But in the end, how many Fae had died in their own natural order? How many had died as a direct cause of the Grounders? So though she does not return home for long, still too intrigued by the open lands beyond the border, it's enough to be swept away by the general celebratory mood of her people. Makes her perhaps a tad sweeter, more flexible, as she finds herself in the rare greenery of the Glade. She is singing softly cradled in the top of a tree, a song often used during dances and midnight fires in the Village. A simple, easily repeated thing as most celebratory songs are. A dedication to the sun, the summer, the heat they try to capture as long as possible. The birds sing back, flitting around at a greater distance than those in the Greatwood, and she smiles as she basks beneath the sun's rays high in the sky.
a mind full of wild forests
and eyes that await adventure
