Post by haybalebarn on Jun 24, 2019 8:02:24 GMT
You had arrived in Essica a week ago, your wandering having drawn you to this city of fortunes, of futures and pasts, and perhaps, of dreams. To you, it was like anywhere else: a foreign place, somewhere that you felt disconnected from. Of course, even at home, there was nothing for you to hold onto anymore. But perhaps that was why Essica set you somewhat at ease; there was a level of familiarity to it, a connection to the occult, to powers never touched by normal people, to esoteric things like dreams, times, peering into a layer of reality beyond what was in front of you. Over the week, the unease had grown, until eventually, it was too much to bear, and you decided to wander out of the town, into the woods surrounding the Temple of Celebi. Perhaps there, in the solitude of the wilderness, you would be able to center yourself in preparation of the festival tomorrow, of being judged to see if you were worthy, whatever that might be.
Of course, nothing ever quite works out the way you had hoped. The forest was calm, too calm, a certain stillness to it that was unnatural. It felt charged with pure, condensed life energy, of magic. You were careful as you walked along, keeping note of landmarks, trying to stick to worn paths... and yet... You stopped in a clearing, sitting on an old log, fallen some weeks past, and closed your eyes in the warm light of the afternoon... and when you opened them, you were sitting on the ground next to a babbling stream, the last rays of the setting sun nearly blinding you, deep in the woods, with a distinct feeling that you are very out of place, very lost, and... very much like you are not supposed to be here.
Of course, nothing ever quite works out the way you had hoped. The forest was calm, too calm, a certain stillness to it that was unnatural. It felt charged with pure, condensed life energy, of magic. You were careful as you walked along, keeping note of landmarks, trying to stick to worn paths... and yet... You stopped in a clearing, sitting on an old log, fallen some weeks past, and closed your eyes in the warm light of the afternoon... and when you opened them, you were sitting on the ground next to a babbling stream, the last rays of the setting sun nearly blinding you, deep in the woods, with a distinct feeling that you are very out of place, very lost, and... very much like you are not supposed to be here.