Inozuka relishes the early mornings in Ald’ruhn. There’s a vague uneasy peace mingled with the smoke of the bonfire, signalling the day has just begun.
Not sure if prophecy or merely street magic.
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.