IT’S FUNNY TO THINK OF ALL THESE WELL LIKED PEOPLE. what they could be. what they have become. what they used to present, heart and mind and soul — no more. a shame. it leaves a bitter taste behind; the clouds have turned too dark to let the sun shine bright.
“ skitter along, hero, ” emet - selch titters, waving away the scarlet miqo’te with a lazy flick of a wrist, “ i’m sure better people have need of you. savage people like to do the bare minimum. ” always more fetch quests to be done, the labors of love and the labors of the lost.
it’s funny — no, he tells himself, it’s just sad. stained glass is only pretty when it’s been polished. dust will only prove to make things into meager reflections of what it was in its prime. azem, starlight personified, has lost her shine in the back - drop of the night.
the crystarium lies silent. murmurs from the crystalline mean proves present; the fair people speaking in hushed tones and whispers. a pang hits his heart; emet - selch sneers.
“ never mind. you looked for me — well, here i am. ”
@sagittariusarrow / starter call.
