||EVENT||
Slipping. Thin, a flash, like a fish skimming through water. Twisting along currents. She (he) slithers sideways through the world. Rock like sand underneath her (his) palm (mind). Water like wisps of cloud. Air like nothing, nothing at all.
Cities built in magic (built in the mind). Cities not only made up of buildings and people and markets and noise, but built of belief and acknowledgment she can see like spiderwebs stretching across Rowan.
In a bubble box
A rectangle box
Sides that are woven of the strongest magic. Not hers, not the gods', but greater. Greater than that, greater than anything she's known, and she nestles inside it, for a time. Thrumming in a cycle, a flow that she doesn't have to understand anymore.
And she breathes.
Nights and days breaking, ripping like shredded cloth, string and fabric dissolving in the wind.
A flow, a low ache inside her. She looks back, on blood and cruelty, and she cries, not helpless and pained like an infant but gentle, instead. (A rain washes over the city, a soft, replenishing rain.)
Breaking and cracking like a shell.
She emerges, in the middle of candles and memorials and drifting currents of magic snagging on the mourning that hangs low and thick over Jhelbor.
And she breathes.
Cities built in magic (built in the mind). Cities not only made up of buildings and people and markets and noise, but built of belief and acknowledgment she can see like spiderwebs stretching across Rowan.
In a bubble box
A rectangle box
Sides that are woven of the strongest magic. Not hers, not the gods', but greater. Greater than that, greater than anything she's known, and she nestles inside it, for a time. Thrumming in a cycle, a flow that she doesn't have to understand anymore.
And she breathes.
Nights and days breaking, ripping like shredded cloth, string and fabric dissolving in the wind.
A flow, a low ache inside her. She looks back, on blood and cruelty, and she cries, not helpless and pained like an infant but gentle, instead. (A rain washes over the city, a soft, replenishing rain.)
Breaking and cracking like a shell.
She emerges, in the middle of candles and memorials and drifting currents of magic snagging on the mourning that hangs low and thick over Jhelbor.
And she breathes.