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Inbox - Fade Rift
Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.
Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.
Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.
Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.
no subject
It’s probably been here for centuries -- of good, solid make and rich grain, leeched through deep with whatever foul magic took root here back when the courtyard ran slippery with the blood and shit of fresh done slaves.
Dumas decides to test it, perching lady-like on the corner, with one great paw braced back near the ink, and his hair crested silver with sweat. Looks like he’s been out in the heat making rounds on the wall. Smells that way, also. He pushes that back hand all the way over to retrieve the logbook.
The table gives an ominous creak.
“What’s that, ah...” he trails off a beat, train of thought set adrift while he flips the book open on his knee for a skim, “what’s that you have there under your arm?”