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Temporary Closure of the Holy Grape
We travel in the dark of the new moon,
A starry highway traced on the map of the sky
Never not badpost.
Dolce et decorum est pro Imperium mori
"Angels live, they never die, Apart from us, behind the sky. They're fading souls who've turned to ice, So ashen white in paradise."
\J/
veiled and bound
my origin story (on eve-backstage)
What fills the soul? Something that guides a lost child back to it's parents arms. Or waves that dye the shores of the heart gold. A blessed breath to nurture life in a land of wheat. Or the path the Sef descend drawn in ash. In the wake of fire.
Doctor V. Valate, Professor of Archaeology at Kaztropolis Imperial University.