The inside of the beetle brightened with a light that was too white to be made of Creation’s set of colors. Instead of Translation, SEGL called it Transition. Instead of longing, their hearts were scoured as by bitter sand: it was the loss of getting where you had been going, but the going had gone…
Dreams that Break like Waves…
After Autochthon and the watery hold of the cavern with its gold and silver doors, the light and sound and smells of the city of Citrus and Sea is something of a surprise, a small assault on the senses. And the Sidereal Exalted, Sanito Mundum, greeting them at the doors, welcoming them, saying he knew…
Within the Body
Second Efficient Gathering of Loam described the movement between Creation and her home in the body of Autochthon as Translation. No matter the language of origin or destination, the complexity or lack thereof, every ear and every heart knows that no poem survives translation intact. The looming creature identified itself as Heliotropic Office of Pure…
Haven – High Noon
Perhaps all of us are swans going into the oven, and coming out turtles. – Brasspenny Returning from a conversation with Mouthsong at her home south of town, the groups snaps out of a sun fugue at the edge of the bridge over the Sludgewater. There was a tall, strong boy in an enormous and…
Haven – Sunrise
Events are interpreted through the storyteller’s glassy and sarcastic gaze, and the spirit more than individual events are striven to be represented The grassy plains around Haven are hot and flat. The grass rolls away from the town, unimpressed even with the inappropriately beautiful bridges spanning the river that someone in the group nicknamed ‘the…
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