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Journal Meme | Not Accepting | @fractalmind
The entirety of the page is filled with a sketch of a small port town. Boats dock along the water’s edge, and upon the horizon more still come. A mabari waits upon the end of the pier, gazing at the approaching ships with eager intensity. Upon the opposite page, a few words are scrawled:
This land was once commanded by a spirit of Pride. The waking world has yet to fully recover from the damage she has done to it, but the softer memories of the Fade have begun to push past the sorrow. The Veil was stitched by unseen hands, but scars linger. Spirits with the strength to speak of her rule credit its end to a being named Justice, though when asked they could not recall where he was now. A pity, for I had begun to doubt such beings still existed in the world.
In another journal, one less worn and far newer than the last, there is a page filled with drawings of hands. Among them is a pair with clean fingernails and calluses along the palms where healing magic works from them. A faint black trail darkens the veins along the back-- whether it is a consequence of the medium used or a hint at something more, it is difficult to say.
A white cat nestles in a pauldron of black feathers, the top of his head pressed into the ground and his stomach in the air. One paw is curled delicately, the other stretched with claws bared, kneading thin air. With his eyes stretched against the floor, half-open slits gazing contentedly off the page, it almost looks as if he is smiling.