Uwaritace
06-26-2018, 03:21 PM
Taivas
If Kisamoa were hopeless, it was certainly not obvious to Taivas.
The ethereal girl lived within the chasms of her own mind more often than not, leading to a laundry list of missed social cues and implications. To her, the brooding god seemed much an oddity, but anything other than hopeless. After all, he delivered the orbs of hope to the inhabitants of the Rift, telling them to grab hold of the tiny light and deliver it throughout the realm to those met. Taivas had undertaken the cause of returning hope to the Siren's Summit.
She recalls the face of the underwater maiden, her dark eyes like piercing talons and her voice just as sharp. Though it seemed to be a useless gesture, splitting the orb with the siren had ultimately restored hope to the region. If anything, this miraculous turn of events only bolstered the shaman's often too idealistic view of the world.
If you seek aid, you will receive it.
If you believe in others to do what is right, they will.
If you entrust the salvation of your world on others' shoulders, they will carry it.
In the case of Kisamoa, he tentaively extends his fragile hope to the moonlit girl in the shadow of a massive ghost.
His lost soul, just like the lost soul of Uwaritace, find a kindred heart to nestle inside.
Silently, the girl nods in response to his question before offering up more detail. "I cannot undo what has happened to my former home," she says with a steady voice. "I am no warrior, and it would have been a futile surrender of my life to pretend otherwise."
She looks to the mass of shadow, flesh and curdled blood. "Besides, the Rift is beautiful in its own right. Much is strange but the pulse of the land is unique and interesting."
The ethereal girl lived within the chasms of her own mind more often than not, leading to a laundry list of missed social cues and implications. To her, the brooding god seemed much an oddity, but anything other than hopeless. After all, he delivered the orbs of hope to the inhabitants of the Rift, telling them to grab hold of the tiny light and deliver it throughout the realm to those met. Taivas had undertaken the cause of returning hope to the Siren's Summit.
She recalls the face of the underwater maiden, her dark eyes like piercing talons and her voice just as sharp. Though it seemed to be a useless gesture, splitting the orb with the siren had ultimately restored hope to the region. If anything, this miraculous turn of events only bolstered the shaman's often too idealistic view of the world.
If you seek aid, you will receive it.
If you believe in others to do what is right, they will.
If you entrust the salvation of your world on others' shoulders, they will carry it.
In the case of Kisamoa, he tentaively extends his fragile hope to the moonlit girl in the shadow of a massive ghost.
His lost soul, just like the lost soul of Uwaritace, find a kindred heart to nestle inside.
Silently, the girl nods in response to his question before offering up more detail. "I cannot undo what has happened to my former home," she says with a steady voice. "I am no warrior, and it would have been a futile surrender of my life to pretend otherwise."
She looks to the mass of shadow, flesh and curdled blood. "Besides, the Rift is beautiful in its own right. Much is strange but the pulse of the land is unique and interesting."
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
