It is through shadow that all liminal spaces are interlinked. Veiled corners, niches, and doorframes; lightless rooms and corridors; dark spaces, dark places - all joined by shadow to form an erratic web of tenuous pathways. Opening, closing, shifting, cut short...All it takes is a mere step to cross worlds. And a mere misstep to plummet for eternity in the endless void of interplanar abyss.
The shortest paths are never the safest, but only the wise or sane pay heed to danger. And eyes that watch in the dark.
As Majda steps out of shadow, the only concern he puts to thought is a brief wonder about the temperature of his coffee. The dark roast’s scent still wafting over his face affirms that his coffee wasn’t turned into a block of ice this time. Slowly Majda turns his head, eyes wide and unseeing of the physical world he’s stepped into, but he Sees the magic and energy around him - most immediately, the calm, persistence of the large oak beside him whose shadow he stepped out of, who he gives a whisper of thanks to.
However, he ignores the small group of people at his other side, and they are just as content to ignore him--most of the general populace don’t notice him in the first place, unless they’ve a Reason, and a large percentage of those who do in fact notice him, tend to pretend that they don’t. And thus it all falls neatly into place.
Sipping his coffee, Majda extends his white cane, tapping his way along the ground on his way forward. Having the Sight aids in many ways, but curbs? Visual aid required. He walks across the green with no issue, stepping onto sidewalk, and pauses there. The scents and sounds tell him nothing other than it was early evening and that the shops along this decaying city-edge street still managed to attain customers. Pleasant as ever.
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