Blackwater Islands he died with that dream still alive in his head
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
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Ooc — delaney
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the keeper draws in a breath, the salty tang lingering in his black, leathery nostrils as he patrols the main island's shoreline. it is the closest thing the druids have to a border. the morning is clear but there is a nipping chill in the air that has little to do with the salty brine. though he has yet to reach adulthood, he is not ignorant of the change that hangs in the air. the season prickles beneath his flesh, but with it a change. no doubt, the wispmother would be giving birth to the newest and youngest of druids.

and the others that carried cubs within their wombs as well.

unsure if he will have much, if anything, to do with them he tucks whatever uncertainty he feels about young, vulnerable life away; for now.

his steps remain purposeful; steady, and he keeps a weathered eye on the shifting horizon, peering towards what he could see of the mainland's shore in the distance.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
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he died with that dream still alive in his head - by Ingram - February 22, 2022, 11:18 AM