When Dy returned to her domain, her safe haven and place to find her center, it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming out.  Against herself, against her decisions.  Against how foolish she now believes she has become. Yet.. perhaps not.  Absolem moves from her mind to take his form as usual when they return.  Everything seems to be status quo..  He takes up his spot upon his mushroom with his hookahs and books, grumbling about the events that took place in Mysthaven.  Grumbling about his opinions on Maric..  All of which the selini deftly ignores.  As usual.  Even Nytchya is there, zooming around on that contraption of hers.. chasing the fairy lights that appear and disappear on the lush green grass.  The loons calling to each other out in the tidal pool of a lagoon, the laughing gull sails overhead with all the grace and skill that he has.. All while evening starts to creep over everything.  Evening where the owls wake and the peepers and bull frogs start their nightly chorus with the crickets and other assorted nightly birds.  Her sanctum.. her safe place..  Little did the satyr know.

She stands in this one spot, by the pool where Myriani grows strong.. enjoying the way the sun and the wind feels in her branches.  It was a calming place, which the satyr needed after the rather enraged outburst she had back in the village.  One of the world tree’s branches moves to wrap around Dy’s shoulders as if she recognized that the satyr was a bit disjointed.  She smiles softly to the tree, lifting her hand to gently trace her fingers along the brown back and purple leaves..  “Your mother.. she would be so happy to see how strong you have grown..”  Her tone has soften quite a bit while the anger had long melted away. Causally her focus moves to the white stone statue of this woman with a stag’s head that stands next to Myriani. Not many deities had been able to effect the satyr in a positive way. Illustree was able to, and because of that Dy had sworn to protect that goddess’s tree as well as any descendants. Myriani was the only one to survive the war that torn her mother’s land apart. The satyr lets out a soft breath, gave the branch one last caress then moves off towards her alchemy building.  The sileni figures that since she is here, she might as well finish off a few odd chores with the odd experiments and such. 

After an unknown amount of time, and having moved from doing busy work to sitting out near a burning fire pit, the satyr seems quite settled.  Content even.  Not that this was a rare thing to be, after all when one can be anywhere and any place content moments are not that hard to find.  Keeping them, however is another matter entirely.  For the time being, she is content.. to sit, Nytcha curled up in her lap..  and to work out more equations and calculations. “Spirit stone.. if placed with right runes, enchants.. wards..  mmn, nai..  this might be able to hold that one.  If anything long enough to get that piece of him out of vaults..  somewhere where he can noht attach to anything..”  While she ponders between slowly dragging her hand down the back of her familiar and writing something down.  Nytchya, however, wasn't having any of it and slams her small paw down on the book. The cat looks right up at Dy and she just raspberries out at the sileni.  Dy raises her brow upwards in a sharp arch, the atmosphere changes into this confused feeling as that is what the satyr begins to feel at her cat’s actions.  “You.. do noht think this will work?”  She asks, curiosity taking over from the confusion.  The feline chirps and merowls as she shakes her head while pulling her lips back to show her sharp teeth.  Dy just looks at her with this sigh.. “Oh.. so you have been agreeing with ..him.. I see.  Well it will noht do you any good.  It is a perfectly viable idea.”

This is a well worn argument between Dy and Absolem.. and now it seems her familiar is in on it as well.  It’s an argument that gets cut short this time by a blinding flash of light floods the normally peaceful domain.  So much so that the birds all start shrilling out in a panic.  Even Nytcha shrieks out and dashes to hide somewhere off into the woods.  The sileni bolts upright, rushing towards this telescope she kept out for her own studies.  All around her the grass, flowers.. even old growth looking trees start to wilt and decay. Something that tells her that something went seriously wrong. As she got to the telescope, the light dies down just as quickly as it had blown through. This allows her to at least find the point of it’s source.. which is a point in space the satyr instantly wished she did not see.  A near by star collapsed into a super nova and while the light from such an action reached her domain first, barreling towards it now was the heat, radiation and all the other mess that comes from this cataclysmic event.  And this sends a chill down her spine..

“O̱ theoí mou ..”  She breaths out, the initial shock finally wearing off enough for her to actually do something.  Not that there is a lot of time, but the satyr springs from her spot to yell out for her familiar.  “Nytcha! Nytchya!  No time, we need to go, now!” Her rushing course brings her to Myriani while Absolem instantly merges back into the satyr’s mind.  Her panic had clearly told him something more than just a sudden burning light and decaying trees that they clearly had to go. “Where?”  He asks quickly, the sileni not taking the time to explain.  Instead she places her hands on the world tree’s trunk while uttering quick appologies.  Not having any time to explain further she starts to speak and old incantation, one that she wished she never had to use.  In essence she resets Myriani back to a sapling so as to easily save her.  This scared sadness floods over the satyr’s senses as the tree truly was at a loss to what was happening, let alone why she was being reverted to a sapling.  “It is ok.. it is ok.. we just need to go..  NYTCHA COME ON!” She swivels her head as panic begins to grow the closer that wave of interstellar disaster continues it’s course. Gently she picks up the poor world tree, opening her bag so as to gingerly give it to the humonculous that lives with in it. “I swear if one branch is harmed..”  She breaths out towards it..  then again she starts to scream for the cat.. however Nytchya just darts out of the underbrush and tactfully dives into the open bag.  With a steady sigh of relief, Dy latches it close and then without another word.. sidesteps into the Inbetween.. leaving what was left in her domain to the fate of that Super Nova that hurdles towards it.

There is often times of being heavy of heart.  Something the satyr knows all too well.  It can't often be helped, as eventually even after steeling oneself against it, cracks will form.  But it is all in how one reacts to it, what they do with their heavy heart and often swelling loneliness.  Of course, this ancient Sileni had always formed ways to combat it.  Even now as she sits in a realm of her own design and making, she finds ways to just acknowledge what it is and move on.  On to something else to keep her mind preoccupied. Even Absolem's drawling on about what he thinks while trapped in her mind gives her a small mote of company.  Aside from him, there is Nychta.  Dy's familiar.. in a sense.  Though the black hued feline keeps her own preoccupation with riding around on a mechanical object that was meant to be a self vacuuming cleaner.  

For a while the satyr woman sits on this swing made of vines and leather.. leaves and various sweet scented flowers. Letting her mind wander for the time.  Perhaps to times she once knew.. or times she will be upon when the moment is right.  It's never clear how Dy's mind works.. or, according to some, doesn't work.  Absolem, who enjoys a bit of freedom while they are in this sanctum of hers, found his way towards his books while using an incorporeal form.  All to leave her mind her own for now, despite how tethered they are. Even the calls from the loons that swim within the blue waters that make up this lagoon, or from the seagulls that fly overhead, don't seem to rouse her for what could be ages out in the other strands of being.  Yet no matter how much time passes out there, especially the one strand she favors.. The Wylds.. The Faerie..   She will find her way back to a point in time there that makes it look as if no, or little time has past between her last visit.  

Eventually, the Sileni moves from her near meditative state, tilting her head to look past the trees and various statues that represent certain significant times or beings in her life.  Her gaze settles on the one temple like house that holds a small portion of her library and alchemy set up. This idea had taken form in her mind somewhere, at some point.  Perhaps it surfaced after having dealt with this occurrence in Mysthaven.  Though her mental wanderings, there was this time she moved through it all again.  Going down into the Vaults of the castle.  The chill from the air, something of a hold over from when this Forest God of theirs left a thorn.. a piece of him.. in the foundation.  It had apparently became increasingly active after a scrying attempt she and Aoibheann did as Wren watched on.  However, there the three were again wandering through the corridors until they reached the rather coffin like door to the Village's Lord resides.  

There was no surprise from Dy when she sees this gargoyle perched over the door like this stony grotesque guard.  A silent sentinel that she would not put past that it could come to life should danger against it's master arises.  Not even the casks of wine that set on a wooden wrack seemed to make her think twice.  Everything that resides down in these network of tunnels and rooms fit their master to a perfect description of him.  The reason, however, as to why they were down here was simple.  If not a bit of a wonder.  Love.  To find out if this rather fearsome and powerful Lord Maric of the village loved Aoibheann.  Of course anyone who witnesses the pair together would not without hesitation that the man holds so much love for the woman.  It just seems as if she herself, did not fully know.  Might not help that the Lord is now possessed by this ancient spirit of The Huntsman, who equally loves and desires Aoibheann.  Something of a stressful pivot between the pair.  One can quickly see this if any time is spent with him.. them.

By the end of that meeting, it was quite clear to Aoibheann and Wren that Lord Maric.. and The Huntsman.. both equally loved her.  When he fully sequestered himself, they left..  Wren and Aoibheann to sleep.. Dy to return to her Sanctum.  Where she now finds herself moving towards the Alchemy temple with thought filled steps.  Something seems to pull the satyr towards her destination, and when she passes the floating transparent form of The Caterpillar, he only looks up briefly.  Being used to the satyr's odd habits and motions gave him no reason of concern.  So back to reading he goes.. his ever beloved past time.  All while Nychta zips past with a whir while riding that "accursed contraption" as he calls it.

Upon entering the marble columns, the scent of various herbs, tinctures, salves, and other items and objects that she keeps.  All familiar to her, of course, and all welcoming.  There's this certain level of comfort she gains by being among what she keeps for the potions she brews, the charms she crafts.. the experiments she performs.  Though she didn't enter this place to craft, brew, or create..  she came to her desk for a sole purpose.  Carefully she takes up a seat on the wooden stool by her desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and the pen she uses to write with.  While looking at the blank page, she takes in this deep breath, measuring in then exhale..  The air around her fills with this longing, regret, and loneliness as she begins to write..

"My beloved Nikoli...

There are so many many times I have wished to speak with you again.  So many times I wished to hear your voice.. just one more time.  Granted I do not think you would even recognize the.. woman.. or being.. that I have become since you last saw me.  Oh so many thousands of years ago in the golden grass fields between your village and my clan's grotto.  So many occurrences have happened within my life that I do not even think you may be able to fathom any of it.  I do know that this was not the life you had planned for us. Especially what happened to break those plans to dust.  

I hold so many regrets in my heart for you.  For what I have become, especially with out you.  I remember how you would liken me to this most beautiful orchid, exotic even to you.. You wanted to care for me, take me from my clan and their ways.  Give us a life that we wanted, needed..  You knew it would be a difficult attempt, but one you thought most worthy.  And I was more than willing to follow you to the ends of our world.  For to me, you were the bravest human I had ever known.  Even though I did not know many humans at all.  Something my brothers would try to tell me ad nauseam.  Though that life I was to have with my clan was a life I did not want.  You knew this, and you wanted to do everything to bring me far away from that.  I will never forget your own sacrifices you were to have made for this.  Leaving your own village and family..  Your own life..   Which leads the the heaviest regret..  That this never came to pass.  Not even in some other parallel to our world, no thanks in part to Dionysus.

Though, through these regrets I have moved on to continue my life.. the path I a have forged.  The path it seems the Fates wanted me to be upon.  I held many lovers since you.. Companions that ended in their own ways. Some who lost interest and left, others I was torn from due to a curse that God of Wine placed upon me. Still others lost their lives..  or forced away.  Each loss steeled myself to just carry on and become stronger.  To a point where love and companionship is not very much needed.  I have my work, my experiments, exploration, and those who I call friends.  What I do not have time for is that pain.  That pain you wanted to shield me from.  So I use you in my thoughts as that shield.  But how I often wish you were here with me now.. to explore the universes as I do now that I can on my own accord. 

What would you have become?  While I have been molded into a being bound by magics, a Mage as many places have called me.  What would it have been your desire?  A brave warrior?  A highly educated scholar?  Mayhaps even one who wields mage as I..  Whatever it was to be, I know you would have excelled in it.  Thrived, because that is what you were..  someone who survived, and knew what it is you needed to do. Though I know that if you were still with me, our life would have been very different than it is now.  We would have settled somewhere, perhaps even had children.. much to my clan's chagrin.  But our life would have been our own.  Instead of knowing thousands of years, I would have only of known a century.  I would have known my own death..

...

Instead, I only know yours.  Finding you laying just outside your family's doorway with the stab wound from a Spartan's sword.  Your blood pooling around you. An image that has burned in my mind like a white hot brand.

I have never slept since that time.  When I tried, it was all I saw.  The smell of the acrid smoke as your village burned.  The tang of blood that assaulted my senses.. The screams and cries of those who managed to survive to see their loved ones dead or dying.  I know I was one of them, but I could not hear my own voice among them. 

I loved you, Nikoli.  What short time we had together, despite my clan's insistence that we never see each other, was some of the most happiest and joyful times I have ever known.  Your death was the most heart wrenching and rage filled moment I have ever known. That rage that cause me to lash out towards my Clan and god.  And with that action, a curse placed upon my by Dionysus.. one that tore me from my home.  Tore me from our world and any incarnations of me in other parallels.  A curse that sent me randomly from strand to strand, never to know a true home.. 

May whatever life you had found yourself in be filled with that happiness and joy.. the love and life that you wanted.  And may it never know the pain, loss, and rage that I knew.

With all that is left of my heart,

Your most precious Orchid.."

After the aged Sileni finished her letter.. a letter that will never be read to who it was addressed to..  she sets her pen down and sits back with this measured sigh.  There is this chance that she read and reread it many times over.. though eventually she picks the letter up and slips off the stool.  Her hooves move soundlessly out of the temple building and towards the other one that serves as her living area.  Stone and marble surrounded by fireflies in the night and glowing with the faerie lights she uses.  With this gentle breeze that moves in from the lagoon, the shimmering curtains dance from their bindings. She looks up to watch them for a moment while holding the letter in her hand.. it too being moved by the wind's soft touch.

It wasn't until she reaches the stone work patio setting that holds a fire pit that continually burns.  Enchanted by her to do so with no need of fuel.  Nychta had left her seat on that mechanical thing and pads up to coil inbetween Dy's hooves.  Mewling and rubbing against her as all cats would do.  She smiles down at the small black feline, though makes no motion to pet her.  For now her mind is set to one task..  For that she stands in front of the fire pit, staring at it for a brief moment before looking back over the letter.  Slowly she closes her eyes that are normally hidden behind dark goggle like glasses, and she finds her self swallowing this lump that had grown in her throat.  The currents of emotions at her control just swirl lazily round her, hiding what it is she feels most of the time.  Perhaps that is the shield..

"Boreí na eínai éna astéri to vrády Lámpei káto̱ apó sas Boreí na eínai ótan péftei to skotádi I̱ kardiá sas tha eínai ali̱thinó Boreíte na perpatí̱sete éna monachikó drómo O̱ ! Póso makriá eíste apó to spíti.."

She sings out softly in her native language, kneeling by the fire while holding out the letter to it's yellow and orange flames.  They take no time to spread over the page, consuming it and the words she wrote upon it. As the paper becomes ash, she lets what remain go.. letting the wind and flame carry those ashes off.  Off to who knows where, if anywhere at all.  Though she watched until there was nothing left to see.  Once that letter was gone completely, Dy settles back against the soft seat behind her which allowed her familiar and friend jump up into her lap.