May those who follow their fate be granted happiness . . .
A lithe figure with wheat-colored hair and azure eyes.
The air around them ripples with color; at their hip, some
sort of miniature instrument is hooked. A harp, or a lyre.
Maybe a flute.
Decidely epicene in apperance. Their smiles are faker than
they used to be.
. . . May those who defy it be granted glory.