Blacktail Deer Plateau insensate

she was withdrawn; restless and listless by turns. sickness churned in her veins, a toxic and gnawing thing that had taken root long before basilica. she eroded slowly, until one evening the once-prophet locked herself away.

days in isolation. suffering. wasting. she wept once, for her islands. for her children.

it was the scent (@Ash Paw) which drew her from her dying. something beautiful and familiar and... maddening. something impossible to resist.

death was eternal; death could wait. she emerged wan and weak, seeking her husband. @Ingram. he sensed it too, he must; the whole of basilica must.