PW:Inhabit the Trees
From Create Your Own Story
As the weather is void, the sky is pitch-black void, the clouds loitering in an empty expanse, your eyesight starts to fail and become maligned as you percieve little darting flecks of rainbow-lights in the more active parts of the sky.
Your feet feel very heavy in such a cold and humid environment. The winds immerse you in thin layers and cobwebs of moist and wintry water-vapour. Indoctrinated by the facticity of the cold, your goal becomes steeply intertwined with that of a radiating sanctuary. It is not favourable for a country respite to be held out here, ponder you.
You start to stagger forward, as your teeth clatter. Gradually: the chaotic noise of the shivering sea abasing the rocks with its cogency and earthbound nature become fainter and fainter. It is replaced by a rhythmic hum, encompassing the whistle of salubrious grass-blades dancing in a strong force and the ethereal fronts of wind dashing across the hemisphere.
The grass-blades are illuminated by a primordial and vivid violet that switch from the emissary of the dim to the emissary of the lustrous in minimal windows; blink and you'd miss when the shreds of light disappear.
Do you:
