09-02-2016, 03:29 PM
There is a frightening pace to the atmosphere. A sense of foreboding and a crack; almost as if the entire world were coming apart at the seams. Everything shifted and for once, the gravesite broke open and out walked the one whom they all thought was long dead and gone. Instead of dead, think of him more as frozen into his spot, the statue of his likeness forgotten and dragged away with the beaches that held him there, prisoner, for more than one hundred years. But with the drawing away of the magic, Ashley found that his body was also returning to life. His body, which had previously been calcified over as limestone, drew him away from the statue that Charlemagne had turned him into. He shook his head, aware of the fuzziness that lay between his ears, trying to make sense of all that could have possibly happened. He stretched---his back legs, his rump, his forehind… But when he went to stretch out his wings, he noticed that they were gone.
Dazed, confused, and frankly, upset, Ashley has drawn into the meadow seeking answers. The scent of Dalean blood is in the air, but with no apparent powers to guide him, the magician—or former—is unable to guide himself through this new façade of life. He draws near another, unsure of what the world will bring, and yet, there is a familiarity about this one that bades him to draw closer, looking for answers.
“Hello.”
Dazed, confused, and frankly, upset, Ashley has drawn into the meadow seeking answers. The scent of Dalean blood is in the air, but with no apparent powers to guide him, the magician—or former—is unable to guide himself through this new façade of life. He draws near another, unsure of what the world will bring, and yet, there is a familiarity about this one that bades him to draw closer, looking for answers.
“Hello.”