This place tastes different.
It's surely not Ravnica.
What of the guilds"
What of the Consortium"
So many voices, debtor's knells, filled the vast, dark depths of a mind that understood only unbiased creation and blatant negation. Unable to find sleep's comfort, Tetsa stood atop a tall building nestled in the city's outer edges. Though the building was surely not hers she laid claim to it if only for the night. The Firemind had spoken to this one long months ago, the Prime Speaker had given her a blessing. Of all the things that had touched a wayward soul, the NIghtmare Weaver had Imprinted with all the semblance and subtle nature of a large sledgehammer, the fate spinners had left a ghoulish touch on a prodigal, supertemporal brain.
"No, no. It's not that at all."
Her voice, as airy as the wind itself, was too small to be the herald of such ominous portent. Long ago, long hundreds of years, she'd joined minds with a being far, far too vast to be caged within the pathetic bonds of mortality and humanity. An elder among his kind, the scaled beast represented all that had been and all that had never been. Blue mana and green energy flowed freely from eyes that blazed with an intensity lost to the wingless races, those who walked the dying ground in shame.
"But that's okay, isn't it?"
No one answered, nothing made a sound except for the lonely west wind that blew through her clothing.
"I can taste them, though. This place dreams. I can taste so many."
It's surely not Ravnica.
What of the guilds"
What of the Consortium"
So many voices, debtor's knells, filled the vast, dark depths of a mind that understood only unbiased creation and blatant negation. Unable to find sleep's comfort, Tetsa stood atop a tall building nestled in the city's outer edges. Though the building was surely not hers she laid claim to it if only for the night. The Firemind had spoken to this one long months ago, the Prime Speaker had given her a blessing. Of all the things that had touched a wayward soul, the NIghtmare Weaver had Imprinted with all the semblance and subtle nature of a large sledgehammer, the fate spinners had left a ghoulish touch on a prodigal, supertemporal brain.
"No, no. It's not that at all."
Her voice, as airy as the wind itself, was too small to be the herald of such ominous portent. Long ago, long hundreds of years, she'd joined minds with a being far, far too vast to be caged within the pathetic bonds of mortality and humanity. An elder among his kind, the scaled beast represented all that had been and all that had never been. Blue mana and green energy flowed freely from eyes that blazed with an intensity lost to the wingless races, those who walked the dying ground in shame.
"But that's okay, isn't it?"
No one answered, nothing made a sound except for the lonely west wind that blew through her clothing.
"I can taste them, though. This place dreams. I can taste so many."