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I drift through the fog like a boat lost at sea. The lands here have become so familiar they seem to ebb beneath my feet, pulling me where they will, rather than I plodding along them. Part of the change is in me I think. Finding some sort of purpose in this world has crafted me in mind and body in ways I did not think possible before. I have bloomed like some twisted flower of the night, feeding hungrily on moonlight rather than sun, shadow rather than water. With these changes I have come to notice other things that need to change, other things that I need. My position comes with certain, situations which I must be able to play into to be worth anything. Until now I have always been able to provide for myself. Within this new lifestyle among a herd however, I must also provide for others, and they for I. Afterall, what I need serves the greater purpose of the herd. Without it I'd not have this rank, this task, this need. I seek the glazier. [post at your leisure please, there is zero rush for this. But Ink seeks something from Lace to be crafted.]  |
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
