OWED STARTER: @inmiasma [THE GOAT]
Three crowns had been shattered, five generations had passed, and countless followers had been sacrificed since the Lamb had obtained the Red Crown. The progress made in the last few decades was nothing short of momentous—even the followers were becoming more self-sustainable, allowing for longer quests to the outside.
But one bishop still remained—Shamura. The Lamb had not set foot in the Silk Cradle in many seasons. Their duties, once sharp with purpose, had dulled to quiet routine.
They were avoiding the final bishop.
The land slumbered in stillness, the usual sleepless straggler missing from this particular batch of followers—but Lamb, like always, was following their nightly schedule of planning for the day ahead of them. Sleep is Death in sheep’s clothing, as they would always say.
“Bregregre mentioned that he was in need of fresh Camellias,” The Lamb murmured to The Goat, their voice barely more than breath as they sifted through the doctrine’s worn pages. “We’ll pass through the Darkwood tomorrow. With any luck, the forest will be kind. Perhaps we’ll find wandering hearts in need of home.”
