[open] stare down at the wonder of it all

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

There was no argument to be found – which was a shame, really, because Lena could’ve waxed poetical on the need for any and all creatures for a series of hours. Instead, there were notions of Torchline again, which caused another wistful smile to unfurl on her features. From the brief moments she’d seen, aside from the rampaging fire, it’d been a beautiful threshold, with a variety of enigmas, secrets, and clustered intrigue layered in between (and as any young, curious woman, she’d instantly wanted to know more – but there’d been other things to attend to). "From what I've heard, you were wise not to trust the Hels."

So she listened, still sorting through her supplies, as Falke regaled her with details of the cloud manta. She hadn’t seen any of those coast or ghost through the enclosure, but now she’d know what to look for, though her head tilted, inclined, eyes lifting back up to the Fixer. “Are they hunted simply because the stones are beautiful?” She wouldn’t put it past people; fixated on glowing, glimmering objects, some quite zealous, fervent, and avaricious when it came right down to it.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm