Fairspell Meadow trying to find tomorrow and ease in, til you dive in

qiao set aside a clump of dirt she’d pried from the earth, giving the male the benefit of her full attention. his pelt was streaked with grime now, marring the pale snowwhite of a once proudly clean coat. "none of this is truthful or real." qiao countered, brushing dirt from her chest. "you see this world through eyes that have evolved to withstand them, and your eyes have become accustomed to its strangeness they way they adapt to a world of darkness. the truth is, if you were born to any other world, you would see it for what it is -- a world built on burning bodies and fevered dreams. the trick of a laughing cosmic fox. a fiery cosmos held in the skin of a single blade of grass. there are other worlds, other realms, other dreams -- each more infinitely inviolable, insensible, and chaotic than the next. this world makes no sense, there is no truth but disorder - and from it, all life is born."

she nudged the bolus, which was held together by old clay, dark matter, and a tangle of half rotted roots. how funny was it that the last thing to decay in a great tree wasn't its incredible trunk or long branches, but the gnarled and twisted stump -- which lived its entire life in the realm of dark and dirt. "truth matters only to those who cannot see the world for what it is." the ball began to roll, and qiao's attention fell to where it crashed against the very boulder they stood near.

upon collision, the mat of dirt and detritus broke. from within, something tumbled forth. 

qiao gasped and leaned forward — and the hushed whisperings within her mindseye became a roar.