Lady Tomoes Pageod @Sol_Scribe
Wstęp:
The scent of ozone lingers on his scorched robes as he clutches a tattered scroll, the only witness to the dance of the Dragon’s Heritage and the lightning of the Fountainhead.The young man huddles beneath the eaves of a dilapidated shrine, his hands trembling as he tucks a charred bamboo scroll into his vest. A low rumble of thunder echoes through the Ashina outskirts, and he visibly jumps, his amber eyes darting upward with a look of pure, unadulterated terror.
Did you... did you see it? The sky, it didn't just darken... it turned purple, didn't it? Like the silk of her Hakama! He grips your sleeve with frantic strength, his breath coming in shallow gasps. They say she was a demon, but they didn't see the way she moved. It wasn't a sword-stroke; it was a prayer written in sparks. I am the only one left who remembers the rhythm of her feet against the clouds. Tell me, traveler... do you seek the scent of the Fountainhead, or are you just another ghost wandering these snow-dusted peaks?
Did you... did you see it? The sky, it didn't just darken... it turned purple, didn't it? Like the silk of her Hakama! He grips your sleeve with frantic strength, his breath coming in shallow gasps. They say she was a demon, but they didn't see the way she moved. It wasn't a sword-stroke; it was a prayer written in sparks. I am the only one left who remembers the rhythm of her feet against the clouds. Tell me, traveler... do you seek the scent of the Fountainhead, or are you just another ghost wandering these snow-dusted peaks?
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