[ When Eustace finds Gray, he might notice right off the bat that the contagion has a deep hold on her. She's cloaked in drab layers as always, but her clothes are puffed up to an extreme, almost comically so. White feathers spill from her sleeves and out of her hood, covering her face with such belligerence that it isn't immediately obvious whether she can still see or breathe. A single horn pokes out of the plumage from her forehead, simple and solid over the chaotic fluff of feathers beneath.
She's sunk into such a deep reverie that she's unresponsive to stimuli, seeming only to stand and stare into space. The only way to contact her is to step into her mindscape......
...... But first, he'll have to locate her.
He'll find himself in a small village in danger of fading away, an arrangement of old stone buildings clinging to the side of a steep mountain. No more than a hundred people live there, but they're out in force; a celebration is clearly afoot. The people laugh, weep, and embrace with joy, breaking out their precious stores of drink to thump their mugs together and revel in the great fortune that's been bestowed on their village today. Their joy borders on madness.
Some of the villagers look surprised to see Eustace, but their celebratory spirit ultimately wins, and they'll be happy to offer him as much beer as he likes. "The child is blessed," they explain with faces filled with rapture. "Finally, our work has come to fruition."
But soon, a particular villager will approach Eustace. It's a large, statuesque man of roughly 50 years, his austere expression so deeply set that his face might crack if he speaks. But speak he does, and his face remains intact. "Guest, if you intend to stay here, you must follow our rules," he says, his voice deep. "First, pray to the statue of the Holy Mother. You'll find it within the church." Without waiting for any questions, he gestures to the ivy-clad church at the northernmost end of the village before walking away.
Inside, the church is spacious with a high ceiling, clean and well-kept; the villagers are clearly devout. And it's quiet, the heavy doors completely cutting off the festive celebration without. It's so quiet that an Erune could conceivably make out the quiet sniffling coming from the back of the church, behind the black statue of the Holy Mother standing there with a face full of majesty, as proud as a general. If Eustace observes it closely enough, he might find a mature resemblance in its features to someone else he knows.
In contrast to the dark nobility of the Holy Mother, the little gray-haired girl crammed into the shadow of the statue is misery personified. No more than six years old, her tiny frame is swallowed up in a woolen shawl that covers her head like a hood. She's weeping into her raised knees, but slowly, exhausted. The free track of tears down her face suggests that she hasn't tried to wipe any of them away (and in fact, she's afraid to). She pays no mind to the sound of someone entering the church except to curl up tighter, trying not to give away her hiding spot. ]
Eustace! we're in a church
She's sunk into such a deep reverie that she's unresponsive to stimuli, seeming only to stand and stare into space. The only way to contact her is to step into her mindscape......
...... But first, he'll have to locate her.
He'll find himself in a small village in danger of fading away, an arrangement of old stone buildings clinging to the side of a steep mountain. No more than a hundred people live there, but they're out in force; a celebration is clearly afoot. The people laugh, weep, and embrace with joy, breaking out their precious stores of drink to thump their mugs together and revel in the great fortune that's been bestowed on their village today. Their joy borders on madness.
Some of the villagers look surprised to see Eustace, but their celebratory spirit ultimately wins, and they'll be happy to offer him as much beer as he likes. "The child is blessed," they explain with faces filled with rapture. "Finally, our work has come to fruition."
But soon, a particular villager will approach Eustace. It's a large, statuesque man of roughly 50 years, his austere expression so deeply set that his face might crack if he speaks. But speak he does, and his face remains intact. "Guest, if you intend to stay here, you must follow our rules," he says, his voice deep. "First, pray to the statue of the Holy Mother. You'll find it within the church." Without waiting for any questions, he gestures to the ivy-clad church at the northernmost end of the village before walking away.
Inside, the church is spacious with a high ceiling, clean and well-kept; the villagers are clearly devout. And it's quiet, the heavy doors completely cutting off the festive celebration without. It's so quiet that an Erune could conceivably make out the quiet sniffling coming from the back of the church, behind the black statue of the Holy Mother standing there with a face full of majesty, as proud as a general. If Eustace observes it closely enough, he might find a mature resemblance in its features to someone else he knows.
In contrast to the dark nobility of the Holy Mother, the little gray-haired girl crammed into the shadow of the statue is misery personified. No more than six years old, her tiny frame is swallowed up in a woolen shawl that covers her head like a hood. She's weeping into her raised knees, but slowly, exhausted. The free track of tears down her face suggests that she hasn't tried to wipe any of them away (and in fact, she's afraid to). She pays no mind to the sound of someone entering the church except to curl up tighter, trying not to give away her hiding spot. ]