in tenebris est veritas.
She shakes her head in disagreement, the long pointed nose of her mask swaying in the warm evening air. A hand, gnarled with the carvings of so many arcane runes, rises and turns in a slow but emphatic gesture. “That which is cultivated will eventually rot. That which is built will eventually crumble. Nothing belongs to anyone.”
Her gaze will continue in sideward contemplation of him, the monocular holes of her skull mask demanding that she view him through the eyes of a prey animal. Occasionally her head will turn and she will regard him from the other eye, slowly shaking her head as if in a constant state of dissent. What she does not do is look up, neither to the slowly waking stars in the young night nor to the goddess who is evoked by them.
“There is no purpose to such appeals. But would you like the piece returned?” Even as she offers, her hand merely drops to her side without moving to retrieve said piece. It is true that the shaman wants to keep this sacred thing, but even she is not so uncivilized as to ignore his insinuations. “I must assume you are one of these protectors.”
Her gaze will continue in sideward contemplation of him, the monocular holes of her skull mask demanding that she view him through the eyes of a prey animal. Occasionally her head will turn and she will regard him from the other eye, slowly shaking her head as if in a constant state of dissent. What she does not do is look up, neither to the slowly waking stars in the young night nor to the goddess who is evoked by them.
“There is no purpose to such appeals. But would you like the piece returned?” Even as she offers, her hand merely drops to her side without moving to retrieve said piece. It is true that the shaman wants to keep this sacred thing, but even she is not so uncivilized as to ignore his insinuations. “I must assume you are one of these protectors.”
