Terrastella sleeps through the days of turmoil without a complaint--not a raincloud or the faintest thrum of an earthquake to testify that its dark, holy places are being dug up. The earth is calm and silent. Even as Susurro becomes pockmarked and scarred with more and more caverns, not much has come to show for it: everything the cadets and the strangers have turned up so far seems to be a red herring.
Until just the right stone is turned.
Some hoof knocks over a small grave marker. On the bottom plane, the granite is filthy with eons of dirt and overgrown moss. Underneath the grime it is inscribed with words and a design carved by a strange, careful hand. The art is simple: an empty, stylistic wave, from the froth of which rises a single link of chains with a cuff at the end.
The inscription underneath is somewhat harder to understand.
Just like Juliet it’s morning again.
And lovers leap from the ward
Which keeps them from each other,
Just as it divides sea and city.
A pair of green eyes watch from the edge of the field.
Please PM me (RB) here or on Discord if you’ve got any questions! <3
xUntil just the right stone is turned.
Some hoof knocks over a small grave marker. On the bottom plane, the granite is filthy with eons of dirt and overgrown moss. Underneath the grime it is inscribed with words and a design carved by a strange, careful hand. The art is simple: an empty, stylistic wave, from the froth of which rises a single link of chains with a cuff at the end.
The inscription underneath is somewhat harder to understand.
Just like Juliet it’s morning again.
And lovers leap from the ward
Which keeps them from each other,
Just as it divides sea and city.
A pair of green eyes watch from the edge of the field.
Please PM me (RB) here or on Discord if you’ve got any questions! <3
