Blackwater Islands spiritglass

the hum started in her bones, sweet music infiltrating and festering like a disease. trikova. it swelled and become a chorus, impossibly loud and shimmering with dark magick. secrets echoed in her ears, the treasures of the druids. in the darkness, she whispered them all to him; of sapphique and akashingo, of moonglow and brecheliant, of the whispers she'd heard and the lies she'd told. everything, everything.

and when she had finished, the listener drew her keeper ever closer. they would consummate that which they had begun that day on the mountain so long ago.

we can jump ahead in time with any assumptions you'd like to make (: as of this thread, you can also reference ingram having most of the knowledge the listener has gained through her threads