Blackwater Islands mortality

seaglass gaze takes in the strange clearing, made stranger still by the pale mushrooms that ring it. there is a soft magick here, felt in the small shiver that slithers down his spine slow, like the trail of a great snake. her question is heard by the perk of his ears, the soft flutter of them curved in her direction as his gaze takes it all in; slowly.

what to call it?

he considers it's meaning to them, that it is sacrosanct.

what about fleimkidon? he suggests after a moment of longer contemplation. in my native tongue it roughly translates to being a word that symbolizes something holy. he explains.