my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes
They watch the strange shape of him warily and, for a spare moment between the parting mists, the dark pools of their eyes meet his searching steel. Quickly they retreat back toward their things, before they can even fathom what it was they saw; at the very least, he was something that can easily kill them if he has reason to.
Instinct demands that they emerge, that they exchange private vulnerabilities for mutual vigilance. For all of their facial modesty, there is little to be done about the rest as they turn their back to him, a chorus of falling water splashing onto the hard igneous bank. The ornaments in their braided hair hang heavy in wetness, their form slick and flush with the heat of the spring. The first thing they don is the antlered mask, and only once it is secure does the tattered robe follow.
Like too many times before this one, curiosity claws its way through notions of safety. Barefoot and dripping, the not-spirit treads away from their shrine and belongings, moving slowly around the water’s bend and toward the horned creature. Their attention alternates between Sunjata’s scaled face and the jar in his hand, each shift accentuated in the long angle of their mask.
“What is its power, to you?”
Instinct demands that they emerge, that they exchange private vulnerabilities for mutual vigilance. For all of their facial modesty, there is little to be done about the rest as they turn their back to him, a chorus of falling water splashing onto the hard igneous bank. The ornaments in their braided hair hang heavy in wetness, their form slick and flush with the heat of the spring. The first thing they don is the antlered mask, and only once it is secure does the tattered robe follow.
Like too many times before this one, curiosity claws its way through notions of safety. Barefoot and dripping, the not-spirit treads away from their shrine and belongings, moving slowly around the water’s bend and toward the horned creature. Their attention alternates between Sunjata’s scaled face and the jar in his hand, each shift accentuated in the long angle of their mask.
“What is its power, to you?”
Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz
