Oh, how different those always-changing lands of Arcadia were from the frozen wastes that the Starstriders called home! Proud as Lanfearys was of the architectural marvels that his people have constructed, he would never have expected to behold such wonders. And even though his eyes drank in the feast that was this land, his heart acknowledged the true treasure of this realm was not the nature, magnificent though it may be, but its masters. The Fae were as fickle and wonderful as Ithan claimed, truly a kind superior to those they called mortals.
Of course, Lanfearys himself was quite fond of the true mortals, those beholden to the tyranny of time. Their lives were so short, just enough for him to have some fun. His own kind were harder to toy with, with their long lives and excellent memory. But the Fae? The Fae were magnificent; even should the beauty and wonder of their appearance wear off, their nature would remain. How little they cared for all of the Starstrider's plotting and manipulation! Perhaps he should have felt offended, but instead, he felt invigorated. This was a challenge he'd love to face: learning about the foreign passions and thoughts of these fascinating new people, finding out how to play them. Then would come the composing of his living symphony, carefully selecting the players, the delicate art of fine-tuning the instruments.
And then, the chaotic crescendo.
But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it was to be expected; it was the lot of his people to seek beauty and surrender to it. But there was another obstacle for him to surmount: the shifting environment around him. It has been quite long since he had to contend with the world as anything else than a stage where he played his plot out. Fortunately, this realm's nature was far more than the dreary, frustrating terrain mortals had to contend with. Why, the very problem he faced at the moment was something straight out of a poetry book: flames dancing upon the surface of water. They did not burn him, but as long as they were alight, he could not walk upon the waves. Each step just had him land on the bottom, just as he would in a standard lake. And he couldn't have that.
The most wondrous - and, probably, most troubling - part of the problem was that his mind was neither used to nor evolved for thinking along the rules of this world. While it was sure to keep him entertained, though never to a point toying with someone sentient would, it might also prevent him from achieving resolution before he got bored.
Yet before he even set on an approach, let alone made his move, the flames parted. Not for him, although he was definitely conceited enough that the thought occurred to him. The waters refused to reflect the canopy above, shimmering instead into a rather familiar shape. He recognized Neese, of course - but having spent some time in this realm, he knew better than to trust mortal senses that could be easily deceived, and physical appearance that was beholden to the will and whims of the Fae. But even if he could be fooled, Neese's magic would not be. Even before, when he was exploring the wonders of this realm, sometimes the bracelet on his wrist would shift and change, with no apparent pattern or reason. Now once again it welcomed its master as the vines curled into a five-dimensional braid, glowing at the proximity.
"Those flames part for you alone?" he questioned. "No, give me no answer. Figuring it out is part of the fun." He wondered if he should greet the Fae, but welcoming Neese to his own domain seemed gauche even for Lanfearys.
