Shadow Mountain Night Cafe for lonely cynics

diaspora was in danger of crumbling; a horrid thought that haunted mahler as he drew up the scent of pika and began to follow it toward a stack of rocks. the mountains were not a place the gargoyle trusted any longer; he lived in fear that the stones might slide from upon the peaks and crush some child or another.
perhaps the sunspire could no longer be home to them.
it was a foreign and disappointing thought, but one easily buoyed when a familiar scent entered his nostrils. sarah. a smile tugged itself into life upon his grim mouth.
so some force had seen fit to give him respite — he wondered at the existence of gods as described by maegi, but ultimately attributed his companion’s presence to a need for inner balance.
”i am,” the shadowpriest intoned, and soon fell into step with sarah, pleased that her company had arrived at such a time.
mahler was more able, now, to ignore the possibility of rockfall, the threat of collapsing trees, the complete disappearance of ego. just for a small while.