my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes
Chaele keeps a distance from the crowd that gathers, though their antlered skull mask will bob in acknowledgment at Maea in the brief moment that their eyes meet. After a few long moments in rapt consideration of the meat-hole’s grotesque folds, the shaman gathers the courage to approach the edge with their hunting knife.
Whatever its source, there is clearly some transmutative magic in the so-called fleshpit. And even though it is likely to disappear in its entirety as quickly as it appeared, Chaele cannot help but try to study it. They reach forward and cut off a thin slice, observing it for the blood or muscle or whatever that might be beneath, then squish the sample into a small glass jar with a wide cork top.
Whatever its source, there is clearly some transmutative magic in the so-called fleshpit. And even though it is likely to disappear in its entirety as quickly as it appeared, Chaele cannot help but try to study it. They reach forward and cut off a thin slice, observing it for the blood or muscle or whatever that might be beneath, then squish the sample into a small glass jar with a wide cork top.
Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz
