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[url=https://image.ibb.co/dNUXEH/Leaza.jpg]☠[/url][/center]

A heart in shadow; the absence of light, but a heart not in the absence of Life. That was her heart as she dispensed herself from the deepest and oldest of dark from the forest floor. 

Wings lit like the eyes of the recently deceased, but not dulled like the glazed look of the rested dead. Those were her wings that fluttered softly, whispering her way towards the gathering.

A gown and gauntlets made of the finest stitches and steelery. Sharp and sharpened were those things she donned; they were the hue of the unlived, the colour of the moon turning her face for the final time. But they were not the tired shades of despair. That was her gown flowing and fine, gliding in rhythm with the voices formed from the Crossing. Those were her gauntlets glinting like intense intent; glinting like the knowledge and anxiety of the hunter and the hunted all at once.

And that face. Oh, but there was none. Only the mirrored Abyss you would see should you stare long enough into the hollow of her cowl. The dark therein was not made of shadow,  nay and again nay, for shadow is the absence of light. The abyss... [i]The Abyss [/i]is made of the absence of Life and that was her kind of dark afterall. Stare into the Abyss if you must, but know that it stares right back into you, darling.

[color=8882be]"Hail to you Mr. Crow, plumage so fine and dark," [/color]a flowing curtsey and drawn out bow she gave, so respectful and yet so final at the same time, [color=8882be]"'tis I, [i][b]Lady Leaza[/b], She of the Crossing,[/i] and I am here to hear what [i]they[/i] have not heard. I am here to sate the desires of the Tangle. I am here to allay the fears of the near-Mortals and to aid the Ancients. I [i]will[/i] find what the sentries and guardians did not hear."[/color]

A sharpened tip of a gauntleted finger, literally sliced the air as it pointed back in the direction of the Unicorn's Greenery. [color=8882be]"That my [i]sister[/i], the Unicorn, Mother Ina'Raynjara, Queen of the Green Corridor, an Ancient no less, has been turned to stone, and, that all those others, the [i]near-Mortals, [/i]escape DEATH by remaining hidden in their stone cocoons...? That is the reason I appear in this form, darling. 

"This taken form where this 'Angel' may not claim you whilst this 'Angel' holds your very own head in this 'Angel's' lap as you weep like our own very King is quite tragic yet quite necessary all the same. I may not continue my duties proper as [i]She of the Crossing[/i] so long as the perpetrator of these tragic events continues to thrive and continues to harbour the heart of-- I find I may not even speak her name proper, darling. Tragic. I find that I may only refer to her as: [i]The Obsidian Idol."[/i]
  [/color]    

Wings made of the Dead Lit Skies fluttered softly as she turned to face the Gobb-- the [i]Obsidian Idol[/i] and, with nary a sound, she flew upon the whispered words of the dead towards the encased Ancient. The Lady then lay a gauntlet upon the cheek of said obsidian encased Ancient. A slow and gentle caress she gave then she turned back towards Crow. 

[color=8882be]"And so what do [i]I[/i] think, darling...?" [/color]was there a hint of sardonic humour traipsing within that old, so very old voice of Lady Leaza? [color=8882be]"I think that we start the search by questioning the one who sees all. The one who sees even what has not yet even been heard. Atop the great clock tower, at the tip of the spire. There he is. We must wake him. For he must have seen much of this tragic turn of events... oh, Mr. Crow you know of whom I speak, aye, darling? 

None other than [i][b]Mr. Standardly[/b], the Marvellous One.[/i] Of sight and of insight he may guide us, no?"[/color]

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