Uwaritace
06-13-2018, 07:37 PM
Taivas
Barely anything is.
The notion is odd to the shaman. She knew very little of the Rift's true nature, but it explained the sometimes virulent and aggressive spirits pulsating underhoof. She missed them now, though, that the world had fallen silent. Briefly, the girl wonders how many lands the Rift had pilfered away, torn from their homes into another place and time. The unique landscape had always appeared mismatched, like a quilt made from all different bolts of fabric or old clothes. Were they all merciful thefts, or was this place trying to build something by taking from others?
Taivas suspects it might be a bit of both. The mother tree clearly had been pulled from a horrendous fire, but the other places within the Rift were not so scarred and battered. At least, not as apparently as Uwaritace.
Drifting her face from the shadow figure of Kisamoa, following his eyes to the bark. She nods silently in response to the information he imparted, but she does not inquire further - perhaps, if she were more vocal, she would have. Learning of the Rift's history would certainly be interesting, if nothing else.
However, the strange god asks of her a question in her quite, somber ramblings about the tree. Taivas does not look toward him, much as he does not direct his question directly at her. Her eyes fix upon the dancing pattern of black on ivory, and she briefly considers how to answer the question. "Yes and no," she says finally, her face revealing none of the uncertainty in her mind.
"The Fields are surely still there; my family is still there, if only in spirit," she sighs, a soft breath into the damp air swallowed by the thrumming of rain on leaves. "Yet much has changed and I cannot return."
"So, for all intents and purposes, it is indeed lost."
The notion is odd to the shaman. She knew very little of the Rift's true nature, but it explained the sometimes virulent and aggressive spirits pulsating underhoof. She missed them now, though, that the world had fallen silent. Briefly, the girl wonders how many lands the Rift had pilfered away, torn from their homes into another place and time. The unique landscape had always appeared mismatched, like a quilt made from all different bolts of fabric or old clothes. Were they all merciful thefts, or was this place trying to build something by taking from others?
Taivas suspects it might be a bit of both. The mother tree clearly had been pulled from a horrendous fire, but the other places within the Rift were not so scarred and battered. At least, not as apparently as Uwaritace.
Drifting her face from the shadow figure of Kisamoa, following his eyes to the bark. She nods silently in response to the information he imparted, but she does not inquire further - perhaps, if she were more vocal, she would have. Learning of the Rift's history would certainly be interesting, if nothing else.
However, the strange god asks of her a question in her quite, somber ramblings about the tree. Taivas does not look toward him, much as he does not direct his question directly at her. Her eyes fix upon the dancing pattern of black on ivory, and she briefly considers how to answer the question. "Yes and no," she says finally, her face revealing none of the uncertainty in her mind.
"The Fields are surely still there; my family is still there, if only in spirit," she sighs, a soft breath into the damp air swallowed by the thrumming of rain on leaves. "Yet much has changed and I cannot return."
"So, for all intents and purposes, it is indeed lost."
moon dust in your lungs
stars in your eyes
you are a child of the cosmos,
a ruler of the skies
stars in your eyes
you are a child of the cosmos,
a ruler of the skies
