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.