09-16-2016, 03:51 PM
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It is through chance Sunday finds them.
When she awoke on the Mountain she did so under a great bed of moss and leaves. As she was inclined to do, she fell asleep one day and woke up many, many days later. It took the great shifting of the lands for her to rise from the cool confines of the slumber bed she'd created. A modern day sleepy beauty - minus a kiss or a prince. She simply is.
A quick trip down the Mountain told her what she'd lost.
A quick conversation with children told her that many others were lost, too.
So she begins her wandering, a great zig-zag pattern across Beqanna to find the sisters she left behind so long ago. The landscape is alien and rises and falls in great patches of mismatched work. It blends with the rest of the land easily enough, but the contrast between it all is striking. Sunday marvels at the beauty, at the ease in which Beqanna simply creates. She is silent on its ability to fold, though - that she keeps to herself.
Ahead a great misty fog settles over the land, too thick for her to see through. She cannot penetrate it, and the thought concerns her.
Just as quickly as she came upon it, it is gone.
In its stead is a glimmering coast, a land unlike any other she'd seen. And there...her sisters.
When she awoke on the Mountain she did so under a great bed of moss and leaves. As she was inclined to do, she fell asleep one day and woke up many, many days later. It took the great shifting of the lands for her to rise from the cool confines of the slumber bed she'd created. A modern day sleepy beauty - minus a kiss or a prince. She simply is.
A quick trip down the Mountain told her what she'd lost.
A quick conversation with children told her that many others were lost, too.
So she begins her wandering, a great zig-zag pattern across Beqanna to find the sisters she left behind so long ago. The landscape is alien and rises and falls in great patches of mismatched work. It blends with the rest of the land easily enough, but the contrast between it all is striking. Sunday marvels at the beauty, at the ease in which Beqanna simply creates. She is silent on its ability to fold, though - that she keeps to herself.
Ahead a great misty fog settles over the land, too thick for her to see through. She cannot penetrate it, and the thought concerns her.
Just as quickly as she came upon it, it is gone.
In its stead is a glimmering coast, a land unlike any other she'd seen. And there...her sisters.
SUNDAY
never put your faith in a prince. when you require a miracle, trust in a witch