Plus, she had a god complex that would carry her through many trials, Fiora was confident.
Clouds clumped together on the horizon, which had hidden a rather glorious sunset the Elysium cryptid had enjoyed nonetheless during a swim; the nights were growing long, and Fiora relished in the way the world was warming, coming out of its slumber. Flowers were sprouting, budding, blossoming, and even through the threat of peril, the Bacchus was coming to enjoy this little search. Thus far she'd only come across a lake so large she was sure it couldn't be crossed from side to side in a single day, and she was vaguely sure this must've been the magic tree in which her Aunt's had come by their last litter. It was the biggest tree she'd ever seen in her life, and there was some push from the island she didn't really feel so much as understand in her bones, as if telling herself it wasn't a proper place to be.
Even so, her heartstrings ached at the thought of evil in such a blessed place and pushed her to make the journey, to make sure such a sacred area was not struggling with corruption.
Fiora pulled herself from the water, sides heaving with each breath, and simply enjoyed the purple dusk as she caught her breath. The journey across the lake had been so much longer than it'd looked -- and shit on a stick, she'd known it would take a while.
She wondered if there was anyone else on this island, or if most others followed the compulsion to stay away unless they needed the tree.
I shant linger,she hummed oh-so-softly to herself once she'd caught her breath and stood, turning inland,
I just want to make sure the island is okay.
A soft promise to a place she wasn't sure was listening.


