Stepping out of Cicero’s, Asta was surprised to see that for once, the light had pierced through the blue-gray hues of Coldharbour and bathed the town with its warm, yellow, life-giving light.
Azura – the Lady of Twilight, Mother of the Rose and Queen of the Night Sky.
The atmosphere is fantastic, and the colours – light against metal – are indescribable. This reminds me of the Isle of the Dead by Arnold Bocklin. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I was reminded of Giger’s version, and of this quote by Stephen King in the Wastelands.
“All is silent in the halls of the dead. All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead, Behold the stairways which stand in darkness; behold the rooms of ruin. These are the halls of the dead where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one.”
Except here, the spiders spin other things.
Mireukura-Rin went exploring Spellscar. It sure is pretty! Biter thinks so too!
The air sizzles in anticipation of the day ahead. The ice crackles, the bears roar. In the distance, thunder. I wash my face in the steady stream and wonder… What is that sound of heavy metal clanking behind me?
The sun burns slow in the Alik’r Desert. I feel the sand against my skin, drawing the moisture from my tired body. I must move before the night falls. The coyotes come.
“And the dead tree gives no shelter, the crickets no relief” ~ The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot
The two statues always seem to me that they are giving high-fives to one another. But that wasn’t what caught my eye this time. The purple-blue shades of the sky was so strangely incongruent with the sun shining down at me. I had to remind myself where I was – they didn’t call it Far Shores for nothing!
Every time I go to Stirk, and I’ve been there at least ten times, I almost always arrive at nearly but not always the same time – the magic hour just reaching its last tendrils over before the evening ends and night begins. The sun nears the horizon; night gathers above, bejeweled and waiting. I imagine that the sea breeze is balmy, and perhaps I can taste sorrow in the air – the Crimson Ship carried its burden hopeless into that endless Abecean Sea and were lost. Who mourns them?