things and how they seem

oia

There is so much to do, that upon waking that morning, you were nearly paralyzed with indecision. There was absolutely no rational way to decide where you ought to start, and so instead of merely picking one at random, you began to create lists and lists and lists. Only when Kai intervened, suggesting alphabetical was an ad hoc, but pragmatic suggestion, did your anxiety abate. However given that your records of the Hollowed Grounds were three hundred and nine years old now, only the naturally-occurring locations had been listed.

So it was that you found yourself by the bone bridge.

You’re dressed simply, or what passes for ‘simply’ at home: a pale coloured dress made out of something that appears to have a high spandex content meant to be moisture wicking. But because you aren’t by the ocean anymore and because it is only just Flowerbirth here, you’ve also thrown on one of Kai’s baby-blue sweaters that is riddled with holes.

You sit with a straight back, notebook rested upon a rock, as you furiously take notes. Despite how quickly your hands move, your writing is precise and the detail amazing if not utterly dry and incoherent to anyone but you. The longer you sit, the more embalmed in your surroundings you become; your crossed legs have turned to stone and moss has begun to creep up your back as if you are nothing more than a terribly inaccurate statue.

of course it's exhausting, having to reason all
the time in a universe which wasn't meant to be reasonable.

Coding base by Sky!