my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes
His alien scales and monstrous appendages inspire a thrilling sort of fear in the pit of their stomach, the kind that dares you to peer over the edge of a cliff. He has been nothing but civil, but the possibility of his power is ever present, like the smell of oerwoud ferns. They lean on one foot and put the other slightly behind, prepared to flee as they fold their arms over a flimsy robe. “Perhaps you have heard of Darkeye. He hopes to harbor a few dozen refugees somewhere in the wilds. I have been tasked with making sure he does not disrupt what already lives there.” After introducing another so flippantly, it seems only necessary to add, “I am called Chaele.”
Their fingers squeeze faintly at their arms as they consider the implications of the half-dragon’s plans. It had been enough to argue with Darkeye about ecologies and encroachments, but it is an entirely different offense to oppress the natural abilities of those one presumes to protect. Chaele fails to entirely mask their displeasure as they retort, “Why nullify magic and the like? Is the only way to keep peace to render people powerless?”
Their fingers squeeze faintly at their arms as they consider the implications of the half-dragon’s plans. It had been enough to argue with Darkeye about ecologies and encroachments, but it is an entirely different offense to oppress the natural abilities of those one presumes to protect. Chaele fails to entirely mask their displeasure as they retort, “Why nullify magic and the like? Is the only way to keep peace to render people powerless?”
Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz
