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08-13-2014, 09:45 AM
The herd I have joined, it seems, enjoys one thing above all others, as far as I can tell – meetings. A sly smile makes its way to my lips as I take to the heavens and angle myself towards our meeting tent on this drifting isle, Dog skirting below me, my memories filled with the jest I had given to Murdock in the summer storm on the arch about there being a meeting every two minutes about some miniature disaster or another within the herd. While the others often have displayed bother and concern over these events, I feel very little; my emotional ties to all these people are slim if not nonexistent, while I am beginning to know their faces and smells, I do not care whether those faces wear smiles or frowns. The gathering appears before too long in the skies, and I descend to join them with the traces of my smile gone and replaced with the morbid wonder as to where Circuta has gone and if my quest given to her has been forgotten or never had a foundation to begin with. It is my sisters and they alone that bind me to this land and its rulers, the petty squabbles that rise between them over disagreements on leadership and tactic. I don’t know any of them and so I settle on the outskirts, very obviously avoiding any nearness to that gaunt and haggard drug abuser that had invited me into the Asylum on my first days here. I still don’t know his name, nor do I care to. He’s a waste of space and air, an Elysian rug for a poor and unlucky family who couldn’t spare the change for a better floor mat. C e a l e s t i s</style> who knows how deep the heart runs</style> |
Magic/physical violence allowed to be used upon Cealestis at any time, so long as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission.
