At Kynee's forceful declaration, the breeze picks up, rushing across the alpine lake. Wind spirits would be more mischievous, a rusulka would try to seduce Darius. This was something else. There was a solemn and serene feeling in the landscape. The rush of wind fills Kynee and Talashia with ambiguous regret. Something in the breeze flattening the grasses draws Kynee's attention back to the door of the cabin.
Finding Elora's acceptance refreshing, Odvara can't help but smile shyly, scrunching up one of her shoulders as she tilts her chin down - a gesture as if to say she is grateful but can't quite find the words because of how intense the feeling is. In her smile is the weight of years and tragedy. The 'girl', Elora is quick to realize, is actually close to Elora's own age; Odvara's demeanor and baby face just make her seem younger. "Thank you," is all she can manage, though her mouth hangs open as if she wants to say more.
When the wind shakes the door, Odvara tenses and her blue eyes dart over to it. Her breathing becomes quick and shallow. The candles lighting the cabin flicker. Elora can feel a pinprick of awareness along the back of her hands, a sign of magic akin to illusion and enchantment, though not quite either. It feels unlike any magic she'd experienced before. Fergus feels his wolf amulet vibrate softly against his chest.
After a moment, Odvara inhales sharply. Her eyes are totally white, as if her eyeballs had rolled back into her skull. The voice that comes from her belongs to a more resonant mature woman, slightly garbled as if underwater, "Who disturbs my waters? Who calls me forth?"
