T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
The tree came into existence as instantly as a blink. As suddenly as the Big Bang brought about existence. The spread of gossip was so much slower and the tree had to wait what felt like an eternity for the news of its becoming to reach all the corners of Novus.
But the news spread and it reached Tenebrae. People whispered of the wonder, of the magic of this strange, instant tree. He came to witness to its beauty and see just how such a tree had been woven so instantly into the fabric of Novus.
It does not take him long to find the tree. Through the Plain many have worn down well-trodden paths. The grasses and plants know the sight of pilgrims and they shed their seeds upon their knees as Autumn already demands their leaves to fall, their bodies to wither.
When the monk finds the tree, she is not shedding her leaves of stars. Nor are the golden dunes at her feet wilting as the grasses of the plains are doing. There is nothing about the tree that is at all normal. Except, the longer he looks, the more he sees the art of each court - from her bark of stained glass, to her leaves of stars, her roots of golden sand. The ancient tree (for how can she be anything but?) holds the whole of the cosmos within her gnarled-glass arms.
The Disciple watches and feels the way magic rouses in his bones. His own magic moves, casting shadows across the tree’s starlight. She gleams bright. She is not overcome. There is a prayer upon the monk’s lips. He speaks it out into the silent, humbled air about the tree.
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***STAFF EDIT
@Obsidian has been sent +100 signos!
@Tenebrae has been awarded +1EXP!
