Altar of Twilight ᵇʷᵖ atalantë
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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  Occurs on 11th September.  The day she means to make for Kaistleoki, misfortune keeps Aurëwen to @Hydra's mountain for a time with @Guildenstern as witness.
  Nerve damage to upper spinal cord, irregular heart patterns, sleep disturbances, personality shift, slight memory problems.








Had she not been seeking so forwardly a return to the riverlands, the silver might have considered the hitch of these winds a full bell ago. But she had remained heedless to the blistering breaths of this eve, and now:

Around the duet the air sang, rising into an impending shriek that pushed into the gleaming valley; energy crackled, shivered across the heavens. A pale lancet was hefted in the almighty hand of the heavens and with a
heave the frozen flame of energy was thrown from high.

Aurëwen cannot breathe;
yet as that sword in the sky ripped for the rawboned and the stalwart, she was made marionette by the frantic pirouette that now possessed it; back turned to this bravura, shorn lips part to call to her grey warden. Eyes now shamed the moon with their petrified gleam and strived to find him as the empyrean fissure slammed deep into the harvest growth with a heavy
thud.

When the impact rippled beneath the surface like the track of a creature slithering below,
when it communed now with that behemoth within the world,
when that duet set the world aquiver,
when the lightning pranced from its bowels, a foxtrot from pine,
smithereened up and up and up her spine—


—she was igneous; atalantë;
lost to the fade before @Guildenstern could answer her.