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p a v e t t a - - -
You will come.
The voice was in her bones, in the deep tissue of muscle and sinew, echoing, again, and again, and again. Whispers and shouts; exhalations. She was not near to the owl as they and yet she heard his every word as if the owl were perched right before her nose.
Pavetta watched from a distance, her stance rigid—it was clear the Higher Ups were gathering to the strange messenger and she did not wish to intrude. Otherworldly, godly. The owl was too large, too saturated in color—the owl outdid that morning’s dawn in his brilliance. The eyes were too bright, glittering with the intensity of the sun.
Gods were wicked and not to be trusted.
Novus did not know that yet, but surely they would soon.
Cruel, wild gods had governed the Rift, had destroyed it. How could these gods be any different?
Only when Somnus, Orion, Ulric, and Ipomomea had gathered and replied to the messenger did Pavetta come closer, her curiosity burning despite the warning she felt in her heart. Her reading was out of practice—she had not done any reading or writing since her days with the Order—so it took her a few moments to stumble over the words, making sense of the small, fluid markings.
Veneror Peak. One week. Do not think you can hide from me.
Others marveled and buzzed with excitement, murmurs and whispers. The gods, come to Dawn Court! Pavetta only felt dread in her stomach, sinking like a stone in a pond. Somnus and the others…she worried for them. What were they getting themselves into, and why did they hold the owl in such reverence, instead of fear?
In one week she would make the journey by herself, if only to keep loyal Somnus from falling on his own sword of honor before the gods.
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
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06-10-2018, 02:13 PM
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