Thus Spake Zaraborgstrom/Outcastes

Outcastes

12-11-2003 12:53pm

The woods were Pherenike's garden, Domnica's bane, Ghandarva's refuge. Now they are your home.

You dream of Atsiluth. You dream of faces in the mist. You dream of wounds.

A gentle touch on your shoulder: Oreithyia wakes you. A spider crawls gently along your leg.

You are a Prince of the Earth, an heir to the Realm, possessed of the four perfections. You command infinite prowess; though they call you bandit and monster, there is none in the east who could stand before your sword. You are of the blood of the dragon, and you will never die.

There's dew on your hair. Jade armor against the wall. Your favorite servant waiting to share your bed.

It's dawn.

You live in paradise.

--Rebecca