chaele
worship like a dog
Today is not the day for their skull mask and its tall, skeletal antlers; even if Chaele did not mind marring the festive spirit with their typical choice of head gear, they would not have been fond of the eyes it would draw. Instead their face is covered with a small wooden circle, the eye holes small but functional. On their head is a sparse crown of holly leaves, pine needles, and mint sprigs, which tend to match the ornamentations woven into their braids. It is still somewhat conspicuous, but hopefully less so.
They have found a place to stand near the water, far enough from the crowds for comfort while still able to enjoy the warmth of the festival lanterns. There is a tangle of thread between their fingers, a netting of knots that seems to be taking some sort of humanoid shape. They look between it and the merrymakers in kind, quiet as a watchful spirit.
They have found a place to stand near the water, far enough from the crowds for comfort while still able to enjoy the warmth of the festival lanterns. There is a tangle of thread between their fingers, a netting of knots that seems to be taking some sort of humanoid shape. They look between it and the merrymakers in kind, quiet as a watchful spirit.
at the shrine of my lies
