ââ @viliification
My muse breaks your museâs arm.
      He doesnât like being followed. Not in the least. His wanderings of space in all itâs glory have lead him too often into ragged ends of the universe in which killers and thieves lurk and are all too willing to strike in ignorance. And so he waits to be followed to some quieter dead end where no one will interfere, before he reaches behind, clutching at the strangerâs wrist. Turning back on himself allows a certain amount of leverage, with which he uses to snap the bone with some satisfying crack. Grip still holds her fast.
âââ I donât believe weâve met. â
       Ărlig found herself following the being with interest. Yes he had been there once before. Sheâd seen him, but had he seen her as well? She followed, quietly behind him. She followed in a way that would be perceived as soundless to the majority of mortal beings. It only took once instant, following a small cry of pain for her arm to be healed yet again, the aether choosing a different reality in that moment.Â
     âHave we not? Your tricks are meant      to bend me and alter that which I maintain.      You PLAY with it as if it is nothing more      than an infants rattle and...â
She paused, furrowed her brow for a moment as her gaze dropped to his hand.Â
     âYour skin is not blue in this one...â














