Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Weaver focuses, trying to find the source of the fatigue. It’s easy to find a bruise or a cut, to knit the skin back together for those surface wounds. She can sense them quickly, but there’s something much more concrete to sense. This is different, and eventually, she grasps onto something that simply feels like a lack, which she cannot quite put into words. Sending a pulse of healing, as if to fill the space, she wonders if it will help. ”Do you feel anything?” she asks. ”I can heal small cuts, but I’ve never tried to see if I can help with something like fatigue. I am not sure if it’s possible.”
Weaver chuckles slightly at the cloud dragon. ”It does look like a dragon. We have dragons in Halo, you know,” she says, eyes twinkling slightly. ”They are far more dangerous than the clouds though. They usually keep to themselves in The Fangs, so long as we leave them alone. I hear The Draig Cordillera is so full of them though humans cannot set foot there. Rumor has it Caido himself lives there, though that is only a rumor.”
Weaver chuckles slightly at the cloud dragon. ”It does look like a dragon. We have dragons in Halo, you know,” she says, eyes twinkling slightly. ”They are far more dangerous than the clouds though. They usually keep to themselves in The Fangs, so long as we leave them alone. I hear The Draig Cordillera is so full of them though humans cannot set foot there. Rumor has it Caido himself lives there, though that is only a rumor.”
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
