A stirr in the quiet streets.
@theolympiandemon
The ashen air of the once quiet city is alive with wind that blows constantly toward the city center. Something has disturbed it there, something that has quietly entered the space. This should not be. The roots of the missive trees that populate the city curl and twist and writhe in something that could be fury or agony. There are no stars in the sky tonight, though night has finally fallen in this realm of perpetual dusk. The moon, as always, is a brittle white glow in the sky, like the arc of a blade. There are shifting movements in the black spaces between the trees, and in the allyways. Something is preparing for a hunt.
Within a building with no roof, on the city square, a sigil has appeared, incandescent and smoking. The bricks of the floor crack and splinter. This path is not of this reality, and something deep beneath the heart of the city bellows its rage. Far away, on the eastern side of the town, Sam is holed up in her home, waiting for whatever new calamity this is to pass.
