Cerulean Cape temporal

ever a loyal disciple, grim assured her that he was capable of the task laid before him. i know, the listener said simply, fitting her teeth around the starfish and prying it away from the rock it clung to. she laid it on the sand and pinned it with one pointed paw, lifting her head to look at him. you will not name druids to strangers. only to faithful. we must keep to shadows while we learn.

she paused, searching for the words to continue. speech continued to come slowly to her as she neared maturity, in halting leaps of improvement and long plateaus of struggle. ironic, then, that the listener should follow the long-winded nature of merrick more than the feral silent tongue of the raven-queen. she was finding herself a more versatile creature by the day, in the face of the unnamed god's demands. for her god, she would become anything.

when i left, i went very far away. spirits showed me death and chaos and betrayal. prey dying, and wolves at war. natural things, but no... no life. no sun. balance was gone, and for all her innate violence, the listener was repulsed by it. we journey to hear words of unnamed god, and learn to keep balance. she sighed, and tore into the starfish. there was much to learn.