Blackwater Islands the destroyer of nations

they listen as she speaks; contented to let her tell whatever she so desires, without feeling any sort of need to interject. the dreadfather is quiet for a beat and then another before they break their silence; lips parting to finally speak in their familiar rumble.

nor have i, a soft sort of familiarity is found in the sharing of this. my nightwife chose this place ...and even now with the dispersal of the druids i cannot bring myself to leave. for a returnal would happen. they can feel this in their bones.