What are Memories, but moments in time? There is some place in existence they've fallen into, but what they see more than anything distinct are the outlines of what once existed, patches of colour, shapes of what once was behind misty yet intangible glass. Layers of history atop of one another, but without any apparent order or sense of reason.
They will need to keep close to not break the String that keeps them secure. There is the sense of grass underfoot. The smell of Summer, the sense of Rain (constrained, restricted--suffocating), and the crying and the laughter moves in and out. History, memories - they are not still, just like the walls that decided to form in front of them, become more resilient.
The scents of nature drift. These walls - no, they are in some kind of memory of a temple. So large that they can make out no roof, and there is a grand heat that promises to burn them should they look up. Don't look up - it will be too blinding.
--No! We won't allow this land to perish. My children? And Herios and Merios? That damned God of Chaos! I refuse-
Their footing falls under them, and the two of them fall, the Strand threatening to break under shifting existence.
But if they fall close or apart, they both fall onto a ground of mud, light - whatever light is here - shifting with darkness, a crackling of a storm. Weather Report may feel affected - a great (if restrained) amount of Weather is present here, somewhere near.
The ground underneath them trembles. The energy here... it is tense, the world itself - it is afraid.
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What are Memories, but moments in time? There is some place in existence they've fallen into, but what they see more than anything distinct are the outlines of what once existed, patches of colour, shapes of what once was behind misty yet intangible glass. Layers of history atop of one another, but without any apparent order or sense of reason.
They will need to keep close to not break the String that keeps them secure. There is the sense of grass underfoot. The smell of Summer, the sense of Rain (constrained, restricted--suffocating), and the crying and the laughter moves in and out. History, memories - they are not still, just like the walls that decided to form in front of them, become more resilient.
The scents of nature drift. These walls - no, they are in some kind of memory of a temple. So large that they can make out no roof, and there is a grand heat that promises to burn them should they look up. Don't look up - it will be too blinding.
--No! We won't allow this land to perish. My children? And Herios and Merios? That damned God of Chaos! I refuse-
Their footing falls under them, and the two of them fall, the Strand threatening to break under shifting existence.
But if they fall close or apart, they both fall onto a ground of mud, light - whatever light is here - shifting with darkness, a crackling of a storm. Weather Report may feel affected - a great (if restrained) amount of Weather is present here, somewhere near.
The ground underneath them trembles. The energy here... it is tense, the world itself - it is afraid.