Closed to Valandil
Grey light tickled the underneath of gentle clouds. From behind one peeked the first quarter cresent of the moon. Stars shone in meagre places where the light pollution did not reach, and all meanwhile a lone albatross flew south.

It was deep winter in Corone, and the fires were hot. Elsewhere in Althanas there was no time to be cold, but here the chill bit just fine in the dead of night. Especially by the harbour, where the gawking and nattering birds fought over scraps left by the fishermen. An easy wind blew in from the ocean, freezing the air so it felt like the tundra of Salvar, turning the dew to frost.

Wrapped up in a fluffy blanket that was pulled up around her neck, the faun walked across the jetty, hooves clattering on the wood slats. Some were loose, and they creaked beneath the weight of her and her - her endearments. Behind her strode the proud and lithe form of her constant fox companion, and beneath the foundations that made up the city of Radasanth she could feel the presence of Delath, the earth dragon. Wingless now and dedicated to the soil and roots he carved his way like a terrible worm through the ground, able to come up at any moment and strike. But for now there was no trouble. There was just rest and time, and Philomel was making her simple way to her ship.

The Fiesty Fox, artfully misspelt as always, was resting at the end of a jetty. Her crew were sprawled all over the city, for the ship had been in harbour already for two weeks and had no direct plans of sailing any time soon. The red silks that indicated the floating brothel open for business had not been seen for some months now, all leading to some beginning to have suspicions that the ship was now seeking other ways of gaining money, other than renting out the desirable bodies of their officers and crew.

The real truth was in the fact that Philomel had something else bothering her these days. Ever since she had met her goddess in the flesh and been tasked with the duty of bringing nature's wrath to those who would despise it, her mind had been greatly troubled. Gone were her richly extravagant whoring days, instead they were limited to those nights of high profile clients who paid well and gave her power.

As she got onto the icy deck of the ship and then made her way down to her cabin she felt the familiar weight of the world descend on her. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but a known one. The sense that there was a singular task that needed to be carried out to save the world from itself, and she was the only one who could succeed. It was horrible, weighty, and threatened to drown her, but the faun was stronger on her furry winter-protected hooves than any other, in body and in spirit. She settled down to a strong brandy, Veridian on her lap, and lay back in her hammock. The frozen night wore on, she tugged her blanket around her close.