He'd say that there are places like that here, and not too terribly far south of the Vale, should anyone here get it into their heads to leave town. (No one really does, except on short business trips to indulge in trade, and they're often back as swiftly as they had departed. No one truly wishes to leave this town, flourishing and colorful. But still prone to changing seasons, and yes, snow in the wintertime.)
But he doesn't catch the tail-end of her explanation. Or rather, he doesn't hear it. In his head, a murmur, a wash of static, a voice. It piques, it rumbles, it sluices through every fold of his brain. Only Weir hears it.]
Cₐₗᵢfₒᵣₙᵢₐ! Yes, we've heard that name before, haven't we? Somewhere, where...? Between veils, between worlds, between dimensions, just passing through, really. ǟֆӄ ɦɛʀ ǟɮօʊȶ ƈǟʟɨʄօʀռɨǟ, RIVER-CHILD.
no subject
He'd say that there are places like that here, and not too terribly far south of the Vale, should anyone here get it into their heads to leave town. (No one really does, except on short business trips to indulge in trade, and they're often back as swiftly as they had departed. No one truly wishes to leave this town, flourishing and colorful. But still prone to changing seasons, and yes, snow in the wintertime.)
But he doesn't catch the tail-end of her explanation. Or rather, he doesn't hear it. In his head, a murmur, a wash of static, a voice. It piques, it rumbles, it sluices through every fold of his brain. Only Weir hears it.]
[He squeezes his eyes shut, murmurs-]
Ah, fuck... Shut up, not now.