the VOICE
“You may, bright one. Of course you may.” Oh, such things afoot. Such changes, such leaps and bounds from the Ascended prisoners who had once been trapped behind the barrier. The Voice was near iridescent as she arrived, crackling from the orb behind the hidden bookshelf to appear before Bastien suffused in a halo of light. A soft caress of his cheek and, before anything, an offer to drink - her children would not go without.
“Speak then, my sweet soul. What is it you wish to discuss?” The Old Gods were ratty, impatient, she thought. All the more reason to promote patience and kindness towards her own.
“Speak then, my sweet soul. What is it you wish to discuss?” The Old Gods were ratty, impatient, she thought. All the more reason to promote patience and kindness towards her own.
