(Crossposted to theatrical_muse)

( The Gondorian troupe is a rag-tag bunch of ruffians... )

( Ah, for a mun who didn't need to be prodded by a spear... )

(Crossposted to theatrical_muse.)

"...have been spotted on our western borders. I fear that the Dunlendings..."

A short burst of laughter pulls the King's attention away from his sister-son, away from the recitation of reports of hunger, hopelessness and death. The world is changing, and not for the better.

( A little girl, her dress threadbare and two sizes too big... )

(Crossposted to theatrical_muse.)

Nothing but the touch of a wyrm burrowing its way through layers of deadened sensation to accompany his long, slow sleep, some small, flickering part of him remembers.Lost in neverending corridors of memory, those first, vibrant fumblings stand out like a brand. The smell of freshly cut hay, the softness of leather gloves and ( Read more... )