The full moon had risen again over Torchline, and Hadama's memories of his night at the Stormbreak observatory had been rekindled beneath its glow. With his duties done for the day, he had composed himself and aquaported to the Eye of the Storm once more, and from there he had slipped from the waters, tail becoming legs wrapped in a dark skirt of fabric.
Asking directions had led him to the Celestine, and though the hour was late and he had little hope of finding Lena there, still he had entered, content to wander amidst the eternal twilight and wonder at the place his friend tended to. The peace of the gardens was pleasing to him, as was the delicate scents of the flowers that bloomed there.
And then there were the animals, each in their special enclosures while they healed. Many were sleeping, hidden away, but now that it was nighttime there were many that were active, prowling if their injuries didn't prevent it, or simply watching those few evening wanderers who made their way through the gardens, seeking some inspiration or solace here instead of in their own beds.
He paused in front of an enclosure filled with sand, hot and dry and horrifically fascinating to the Mer. A Shangyang with a bandaged wing was drowsing near a cluster of stones, its feet hidden beneath its feathery body as it nested down for the night.
Open!
Asking directions had led him to the Celestine, and though the hour was late and he had little hope of finding Lena there, still he had entered, content to wander amidst the eternal twilight and wonder at the place his friend tended to. The peace of the gardens was pleasing to him, as was the delicate scents of the flowers that bloomed there.
And then there were the animals, each in their special enclosures while they healed. Many were sleeping, hidden away, but now that it was nighttime there were many that were active, prowling if their injuries didn't prevent it, or simply watching those few evening wanderers who made their way through the gardens, seeking some inspiration or solace here instead of in their own beds.
He paused in front of an enclosure filled with sand, hot and dry and horrifically fascinating to the Mer. A Shangyang with a bandaged wing was drowsing near a cluster of stones, its feet hidden beneath its feathery body as it nested down for the night.
Open!
