#skycrown

hi, i post furry art now. sorry mom. 

There’s a reason Skycrown never feels still, even on the quietest of mornings. Leylines knot here– old and stubborn ones by the feel of it when I reach for them– braided together beneath stone and soil. You can feel it if you sit still long enough. It makes others feel uneasy, though I have always felt comforted by the buzzing in my skull. I always have. It quiets the voices that otherwise threaten to drown out my own. I’ve traced the perimeter of the island so many times I know where the wind changes direction– funneled through short valleys tucked between small peaks. I’ve become familiar with the way the air thins at the eastern edge; the western rise where the ground hums louder to me, resonating through the boulders rather than being tamped down by earth. There’s a stretch near the treeline where birds refuse to nest, though I haven’t yet discovered why. At first, I told myself it was habit. Security. Familiarity. Like trying to learn the lines of a room. But after enough circuits, I had to stop pretending. The island answers me in small ways. A pulse beneath my boots. A pressure behind my eyes. The subtle tug at my hands as if to say, Come this way. Drink. Go on– just a sip. Truly, Skycrown is a place where things gather. Power. Ambition. Now all it needs is people. There are prices it never names out loud, payments I have made for this in more than just gold. Drawing from a confluence leaves its marks. Certainly, it’s sharpened me. Quickened my responses. Strengthened my spells. But it has dulled other things. Rest comes shallow now. Silence feels… crowded. When the leylines go quiet, when the heat ebbs, something in me does, too– and I hate how quickly I am noticing the absence. I’ve told myself it was a discipline, not a dependency. I was curating, not consuming. I tell myself a lot of things. Skycrown draws eyes the way power and grandeur always do, measuring my island as a resource rather than a place. Some are open and curious, perhaps even covetous. Others are subtler. They don’t look at the land– they look at me. No accusations, not yet. I suppose observation is subtler than confrontation. Questions come softer than accusations. The question is where the line actually sits between stewardship and indulgence, between control and comfort. Skycrown hasn’t answered that for me. It only hums patiently beneath my feet. You’re tired. Let me hold you.

Sweet Scylla getting the love she deserves~

(Reference by google)

off..on...IGNITE by SkyCrown

H=m.c2 by SkyCrown

Trixie time !! by SkyCrown

In the next 24 hours, if the website skycrown.com still not accessible, we will move SkyCrown to SCAM session at our monitor page