| Kallisti penetrating odor of honeysuckle carried with her from long nights spent wandering the complex wilds of possibility where it's always summer feel her nonchalant eyes stripping importance from every figleaf casting naked contentment in her wake she is cut from a different cloth exotic material spun into a bolt which lights up the world leaving the mightiest to shake in their roots every creature gone aloft as she makes her unknown way heralds the dance that is this wood without the aid of day |