(no subject)
The Lord of the Sleeping Marches stroked his chin in thought, brooding on recent events. There was a Corinthian in the Nexus. The nightmare obeyed him for the time being, but he could not guess at its purpose there, nor how long its obedience would stand. Moreover, it was not the Corinthian he had made--some trace of that familiar being lurked within, a dark seed, but the person around it was new. Curious, and troubling.
Of course, Aisling had befriended him.
It was with such heavy thoughts in mind that he set out from the Dreaming, making his way through strange paths of void and mirror, coming at last to the reflections of Ali's Boston home. He moves from one window to the next, through pools of place cast through them like sunbeams, peering briefly in search of his quarry before moving on.
Of course, Aisling had befriended him.
It was with such heavy thoughts in mind that he set out from the Dreaming, making his way through strange paths of void and mirror, coming at last to the reflections of Ali's Boston home. He moves from one window to the next, through pools of place cast through them like sunbeams, peering briefly in search of his quarry before moving on.