[Yet another week is slowly beginning to come to a close -- a tumultuous one, to be sure, full of surprises both good and bad... though perhaps not quite as tumultuous as last week in some ways -- and the skies and the sea are surprisingly peaceful this bright Thursday. Even the birds seem to be enjoying their early morning song when the sun rises.
For a little while, you may be able to tell yourself that this perhaps is the week where the islands' distortions will give it a rest. You've already laid one of yours to an eternal rest, after all, sending her off in a manner much more dignified than the last creature that stormed the beaches.
Right around afternoon, though, as though on cue; right about after lunch (so at least you might have had a good one) the familiar hush seeps back in. It's hard to detect at first, with everyone awake and rowdy, but it's there in the background from a moment to the next. It muffles everything for the encroaching storm.
There's that familiar low-pitched rumble once the sun has dipped towards the horizon, working itself up in pitch and frequency. Those on Kakapo's Nest may notice that the quality is a little different than usual -- by the time the stars are out, it's easy to see the shimmer across the water by the island's shores, a vast veil that looks just like marine fog. But that's not where the sound is coming from. Three large whirlpools have formed not far from where the island meets the sea, dark maelstroms that seem to swallow the stars. Moreover, something almost like cries emanates out of them -- like the discordant laments of a thousand sirens in a blender, maybe? Something like that. Good thing you'll be able to sleep through that tonight, right?
Meanwhile, a more sedate state of the warp has settled over Seagull's Playground, crouched over the go-karts as though knowingly. Is it protecting them from further harm? Or daring those who will be out and about tonight to come closer, ever closer? Some karts get knocked out of their spaces and go skidding into the track like bumper cars, but it isn't quite as grand a scale as Kakapo's little showing.
Dodo's Outlook, meanwhile, isn't spared by virtue of having had a dragon trample all over it yesterday. Unfortunately. Winding fingers of the distortion creep up from the shore to wrap themselves around the theater like a mantle -- there may be cracks appearing in the columns here. Best to keep an eye on it.]
!!!!!
For a little while, you may be able to tell yourself that this perhaps is the week where the islands' distortions will give it a rest. You've already laid one of yours to an eternal rest, after all, sending her off in a manner much more dignified than the last creature that stormed the beaches.
Right around afternoon, though, as though on cue; right about after lunch (so at least you might have had a good one) the familiar hush seeps back in. It's hard to detect at first, with everyone awake and rowdy, but it's there in the background from a moment to the next. It muffles everything for the encroaching storm.
There's that familiar low-pitched rumble once the sun has dipped towards the horizon, working itself up in pitch and frequency. Those on Kakapo's Nest may notice that the quality is a little different than usual -- by the time the stars are out, it's easy to see the shimmer across the water by the island's shores, a vast veil that looks just like marine fog. But that's not where the sound is coming from. Three large whirlpools have formed not far from where the island meets the sea, dark maelstroms that seem to swallow the stars. Moreover, something almost like cries emanates out of them -- like the discordant laments of a thousand sirens in a blender, maybe? Something like that. Good thing you'll be able to sleep through that tonight, right?
Meanwhile, a more sedate state of the warp has settled over Seagull's Playground, crouched over the go-karts as though knowingly. Is it protecting them from further harm? Or daring those who will be out and about tonight to come closer, ever closer? Some karts get knocked out of their spaces and go skidding into the track like bumper cars, but it isn't quite as grand a scale as Kakapo's little showing.
Dodo's Outlook, meanwhile, isn't spared by virtue of having had a dragon trample all over it yesterday. Unfortunately. Winding fingers of the distortion creep up from the shore to wrap themselves around the theater like a mantle -- there may be cracks appearing in the columns here. Best to keep an eye on it.]