#page 558

[thestoopgallants]

[rapidpixeladventure]

Politely greet both.

{[Greet]: [Politely]}

You are unsure what is going on but being polite has won over just about everyone you have encountered so far.

The two spectors chuckle at you introduction.

You are not sure what they mean, but they soft kindness in their voices makes you feel at east. They almost feel, parental? You are not sure how to describe the blanket of safety the two of them are bestowing upon you

So this is the [Dream World]? Is that what Gestalt wanted you to see when they read you their book?

Your head is spinning and you aren’t really sure what is going on.

But at least you feel… some level of comfort from their words.

[STATUS][QUESTS][MAP]

What Should We Do Now?

[pantheonofabsence]

Summer broke on the backs of children, even though swings performed miracles and breezes sang psalms. For that summer, from the outskirts of some far off even whimsical place came the low resolute moo of the dragon. A child, of course, could not recognize that fabled moo or the serpentine tail close to her feet, wound up among the thistle and milkweed like a hose. Nor for that matter could she recognize the starry white bone left upright in the sandbox like some remarkable claw or shovel. Not when the sun was out and games continued. Certainly not when there was summer love and rootbeer. But at dusk when the fog crept in, thick and sweating, suggesting some kind of burning far off, down over there, (where someone once saw two eyes --pale as October moons-- blink) a child could know the meaning of fall. And that August, two weeks before school began, some children went down to that place and they never came back.

"That Place," House of Leaves