A suffocating emptiness that serves as a bridge between everything, where only the lingering souls of the dead light the steps you take. Twisting paths and shards of glass are the only decor to an otherwise pitch black infinity, a test of one’s patience.

Grabbing the neck of a piss warm bottle, James flopped down against some cargo, just outside the captains cabin, choking down a few swigfulls of the swill.  He made a face, but continued on.  It wasn’t his sweet brandy but it would do. 

naught in particular is some brittle tree guy who spent a very very long time making himself a body to puppeteer since his actual body is a ton of roots that are haphazardly stretched out in a huge room, making him unable to talk to anyone outside of it unless someone were willing to visit him, though the other deities are very busy people, so they don’t have much of an opportunity to do that. the only one who visited him regularly is barbara. barbara was mainly drawn to him because she couldn’t make out how naught would end up after the making of his second body, and in spite of her emotions being extremely dulled as a result of her foresight, she still has enough to show some concern towards him, even if he was keen on building his body alone. tbh i might change this a bit but the idea is there, im hoping to flesh these two out more

shes still erm… heavy wip, and her lore probably doesnt make much sense to an outsider since i hadn’t shared any falling grace or worldbuilding regarding it yet, but i hope its at least a little interesting

Steve wrote Falling Grace for Bill Evans and this is a beautiful version with Eddie Gomez on bass. Bill suddenly switches to electric piano about two-thirds through and mid phrase!

This is a fabulous composition by Steve Swallow.

Maybe it just is what it is.