[ As Ithaqua steps inside, the blue and white petals swirl around him, envelop him, swallow his vision whole.
For a brief moment, all that exists in the world is him, the flowers of late spring, and the breeze. When he blinks he sees the faces of those dear to him, those most closely bound to him. He sees his countrymates. He sees Solomon. He sees his mother.
The wind whispers to him voiceless, soothing and comforting. Ithaqua may find himself compelled to reach out into the whorl of petals.
When he does, it dies down. He is back to where he was before. Except now, tangled in his fingers, is a long, bright red piece of string.
Hm, how strange. That wasn't there before. What could that be for? ]
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For a brief moment, all that exists in the world is him, the flowers of late spring, and the breeze. When he blinks he sees the faces of those dear to him, those most closely bound to him. He sees his countrymates. He sees Solomon. He sees his mother.
The wind whispers to him voiceless, soothing and comforting. Ithaqua may find himself compelled to reach out into the whorl of petals.
When he does, it dies down. He is back to where he was before. Except now, tangled in his fingers, is a long, bright red piece of string.
Hm, how strange. That wasn't there before. What could that be for? ]