Blackwater Islands the insane clown posse is just the clown posse to the joker

to watch them grow was to watch a miracle unfolding before her eyes. the days of their early infancy had seemed long, but the nature of time had turned fleeting as the children came into their own power. already the sprouts bore budding flowers. soon they would bloom in full.

morgra had been the first, but today isangrim found a new strength of will in following his sister's footsteps. the listener shadowed the boy in the torpid manner of ink creeping over a page, watchful but unperturbed. @Ingram stood watch not far from the den's singular entrance; the children were safe. her eyes found ptolemy as her path took her to his side, praise written in her sharp features.

you prefer to watch. good, she spoke in low tones, meant only for his ears. you need to see clearly, to see what lies ahead. for all of us. watch very carefully.

and the prophet left his side, seeking her secondborn. the spray of the waterfall scarce reached the stone pathway leading into the den, yet she felt the cool droplets touch her face as she bent to speak to isangrim. the spiritglade calls to you, i know. this place will always be your soul. but my den is your home for now. it will keep you safe, perhaps he did not understand. the listener herself had been slow to unravel the mystery of the language of wolves. it had been the weakness of her mother, passed to herself by circumstance; she would see to it that her own children faced no such hindrance.