White Ruin

hϵ i∏
Plasma Temple burns while the new dawn yearns.
Passed around the people are individual turns,
Spent gaping and staring at the eye looking back,
And the accursed icon of which it doesn't lack.
Sacred ground gives way for terrors anew.
A will provided for free in earnest by the few.
Her population watches, and all at once it learns, 
Plasma Temple burns as White Ruin churns.
It trts ith α isper
Rumors tell of the wisp's curious search, propagated by a gamemaster's dangling of truths. In only one night, the wisp's world is lost to their clangorous presence, cast out of site by the gamemaster's words, consumed by tales of the secondborn's nature.
Flashes of red and gray fill the room, bound in incompletion. The wisp and the gamemaster look on with conflict; one plays the lost while the other is the guiding torch. Entering the stage is a soldier, an actor, an abomination, a salary man, a fortune teller,
A mistake
Pleas for help
The wretched is drawn out at the wisp's request. Cries for the removal of the secondborn's lives. Cries for the cleansing of grit from the temple. Cries made in desperation for the good of the spirit. Cries made on able but disregarding ears.
The wisp's ears in response are regarding but unable, and one by one they carry out an unwanted will. Old buds are to be pruned to make way for naught, the leukocyte sees its own as a toxin. Gray suffocation takes hold of the crowd, and the spirit has had enough.
Calls upon light
Idols are not to be met by their admirers. They are not to be greeted, nor are they to be adored in person lest you invoke its bitter warning.
The wisp's world is clouded in an oppressive darkness.
Old reverences are severed by one he thought heartless.
In his time of need, a blinding light shines bright.
The wisp becomes the part becomes the whole to lead the fight.
The smoke and dust settle. The wretched has departed. The spirit leaves the kettle.
Plasma Temple is unguarded.
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Category:Events