chaele
worship like a dog
More than one plan to devise a refuge from the war has been spoken into Chaele’s ears, and they too are one of those who presume to stand in neutrality. But neither is this the first time that they have become aware of the naivety in the attempt, of the deadly sharp edge that divides both sides of the war. “Ants bring their larvae to high ground when a flood is coming,” they mention between eager sips of cocoa, softening the ominous tone in their words. “But that makes it easier for the birds to have their feast.”
Soon enough the pair are standing in another line. Chaele tries to imagine the shape of the so-called funnel cakes, leaning to peer toward the stall as they inhale the sweet scent. Their mind drifts quickly back toward thoughts of conflict and its avoidance, but the words are caught before they can make it past their teeth. Instead the restless mage wets their lips and looks around at the nearby stalls. “Perhaps I need some glass and fabric, before I leave,” they reason, since there cannot possibly be a better reason to stay.
Soon enough the pair are standing in another line. Chaele tries to imagine the shape of the so-called funnel cakes, leaning to peer toward the stall as they inhale the sweet scent. Their mind drifts quickly back toward thoughts of conflict and its avoidance, but the words are caught before they can make it past their teeth. Instead the restless mage wets their lips and looks around at the nearby stalls. “Perhaps I need some glass and fabric, before I leave,” they reason, since there cannot possibly be a better reason to stay.
at the shrine of my lies
