SkieBorne
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Post: 55990979_1 created on Fri Nov 06, 2009 8:01 pmPosted: Fri Nov 06, 2009 8:01 pm
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With the revelations of his return, Glyph had taken to wandering the grounds in between his visits to the glassworkers. The work was coming along well and near completion at his last visit but his mood was too somber to properly enjoy the jovial atmosphere of the Baadris pilgrims’ work. His travels had taken him further abroad then normal, drawing towards the edge of the greenness that surrounded the pantheon proper. Here and there, he’d stop to concentrate on the plantlife, testing the bounds of his influence as he encouraged the young shoots to grow and establish themselves.
It was difficult, really, but the unfolding of a leaf here, or the straightening of a shoot there as he continued to settle into his influence was both rewarding and encouraging. The barren patches still present in areas saddened him and he’d linger there, sewing seeds to replenish the land. They were simple things but he rather thought the gesture would be appreciated. Eventually, the sounds of a festival caught his attention and he’d moved towards it, drawn by the colours and activity. Pausing along the edge of the graves, Forest look on for a moment, watching the proceedings with a certain air of curiosity. Everywhere there were decorations, bright and beautiful, but themed after the dead… and despite the theme, it was difficult to dislike the smell of food and sweets or the lively talk. Even the flickering dead that moved past, their pale forms a shiver of cold against his skin, were not dangerous in nature. Drawn into the crowd by children’s hands, he followed their laughter to the center of the festival where the stalls offered all manner of sweets and jewelry. Crouching down, he played a game of bones with a few before one offered the god a sweet roll that he quickly accepted with much appreciation. The ebb and flow of children’s attention was a short cycle, however, and the children moved away soon enough, entranced by the passage of a ghostly entertainer who stopped to amaze them with his juggling and smiles. Rising, Glyph continued on through the crowds – stopping at a particularly colourful stall to enjoy a sugar skull – and out into the graveyard proper. Few of the dead wandered here, away from the life and lights of the festival but Glyph rather found the graves intriguing. Here and there were arrangements of flowers lain at the bases of graves, one even had a potted rose bush set at the head. It was here that he knelt and dug a hole in the ground beside the grave marker, transferring the bush into the ground. His powers were small yet, but the touch of growth he did possess could ensure that the offering continued to bloom year after year, “I hope they do not mind a rose to guard their remains.” |
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