NATE
The Voice had given him such simple instructions, and after almost an entire season wasted, all Nate really wanted was to feel productive again. Filling every moment is far preferred to losing them entirely, and the moments easiest to fill are the ones that come late at night. Pemota insists on coming, the starwhal a near constant presence at his side the last few days, her crackling glow wreathing around Nate like a halo.
A full moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting shadows throughout the Grounds, Nate walking until he finds himself bathed in the long narrow shadow of the Spire, it's shattered form rising up before him. Everytime he see's it, Nate has to pause, filled with equal amounts of nostalgic wonder, and instinctive fear. It's so large, so alien.
Approaching it to whisk away shattered shards feels a little too much like graverobbing, keeping Nate's shoulders up, an impossible shiver creeping up his spine as he circles the base of the spire, then creeps in through the front, keeping his eyes peeled for any pieces of obsidian that stand out to him, the seem like they would be better suited to a cathedral than a wreck.
A full moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting shadows throughout the Grounds, Nate walking until he finds himself bathed in the long narrow shadow of the Spire, it's shattered form rising up before him. Everytime he see's it, Nate has to pause, filled with equal amounts of nostalgic wonder, and instinctive fear. It's so large, so alien.
Approaching it to whisk away shattered shards feels a little too much like graverobbing, keeping Nate's shoulders up, an impossible shiver creeping up his spine as he circles the base of the spire, then creeps in through the front, keeping his eyes peeled for any pieces of obsidian that stand out to him, the seem like they would be better suited to a cathedral than a wreck.
‘Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly
