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05-20-2013, 10:01 PM
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Something is different, something is strange. It is, perhaps, the reality that the night sky has fallen in the Heavenly Fields tonight. Perhaps it is tired, perhaps it is in desperate need of a break from its tireless, vigilant watch over the nightlife below. Perhaps this is its quiet rebellion. Whatever the reason, it paints a peculiar scene. All life has left the meadow in favor of more pleasant places to rest, leaving it an empty and silent clearing. Even the crickets have gone elsewhere this evening. The once gorgeous meadows, beginning to dry and brown in the intensity of the Orangemoon cold, have become flat and black. The earth is replaced by the sky, but somehow still solid. One might be able to walk easily upon the surface, as if it were simply a frozen lake reflecting the evening stars. Above, the sky is replaced by the meadow, which fades and twists with evening mist. It cannot cast shadows upon the earth, for the somehow solid earth already embodies the blackest depths of space. Blackness seems to encase the fields, enclosing them as if they are walled in. It is a strange occurrence, this warping of the world, and marked most clearly by the moon, which shines clear in the center of the clearing, casting a beam of light up from the ground to reflect off of the meadow grasses above. A cold and ominous breeze sweeps the stars across the surface of the earth and rustles the grasses above. It calls out to the weaver Crowley, urging him to the odd scene of the meadow, with its shadowy walls and transformed sky. What an odd evening indeed. [[This thread is intended for Crowley. Crowley must post first, after which point Dingo may decide whether or not the thread is to remain open or closed. Regardless of her decision, post order will be stilted in favor to Crowley and RE, and posters may be skipped after 48 hours so that this thread does not get held up.]] |
