[ It's all a farce, from the illusion of a moon piercing through the dark of a velveteen sky to the churn of waves cast endlessly toward the shore by mechanisms unseen. A stunning bit of trickery, brought about by the same circuitry that paints the Vale in false sunshine and turbulent thunderclouds alike.
The grit of dry sand underfoot feels genuine, but like the seawaters garnished in frothy seafoam that dare to stretch out towards the demon as he sits upon the beach, it's more likely to have been concocted in a vat somewhere within The Golden Peacock than any ocean elsewhere.
All that lies within this set of make-believe are cheap facsimiles of the real thing. Except for the demon haunting a nighttime shoreline cast in shadow and the entity with eyes dark as pitch who observes him with an uncanny sort of calm. A creature J cannot pinpoint in origin by demonic senses alone, except to wrench from him one innate coil of dread from deep within his gut.
Instinctively, fear rises to the surface, but perhaps a breath later it twines together with a pull that's nearly gravitational. An urge that begs to cross the distance between two bodies that's entirely out of place for the moment, or how unfamiliar J is with the stranger in his sights. ]
On the contrary. [ Perhaps for once in his long life, he feels what it's like to be swept up in a gaze no different than a leaf caught within the inescapable clutches of a swirling tidal pool. ]
beach
The grit of dry sand underfoot feels genuine, but like the seawaters garnished in frothy seafoam that dare to stretch out towards the demon as he sits upon the beach, it's more likely to have been concocted in a vat somewhere within The Golden Peacock than any ocean elsewhere.
All that lies within this set of make-believe are cheap facsimiles of the real thing. Except for the demon haunting a nighttime shoreline cast in shadow and the entity with eyes dark as pitch who observes him with an uncanny sort of calm. A creature J cannot pinpoint in origin by demonic senses alone, except to wrench from him one innate coil of dread from deep within his gut.
Instinctively, fear rises to the surface, but perhaps a breath later it twines together with a pull that's nearly gravitational. An urge that begs to cross the distance between two bodies that's entirely out of place for the moment, or how unfamiliar J is with the stranger in his sights. ]
On the contrary. [ Perhaps for once in his long life, he feels what it's like to be swept up in a gaze no different than a leaf caught within the inescapable clutches of a swirling tidal pool. ]
Your company is more than welcome.