birds singing in the sycamore tree

[baedalites]

As night falls on Baedal, the city is almost quiet. The streets have a few last minute workers returning home, but by now, most citizens have already gone by the temples and picked up their vurt, ready to lay down and dream.

After placing a not-feather in one's mouth, there's a moment where it fizzes against the tongue before sliding coolly down the back of the throat and pulling the user down into sleep. A series of impressions, more sensation than anything concrete, appears before the user and this is how one chooses which Dreamer to enter.

Comments

[apotropaic]

"I wouldn't call it normal normal. It has a little art gallery in one of the side rooms and at night they put safety spells on the displays and turn it into a club. Not the biggest place, but kind of bouncing. Howl Barrow, go figure." A neighbourhood that's quickly becoming Philomena's spiritual home. "But I work there during the day, so it's mostly serving people and trying not to munch on everything."

"Mmhmm, soon as possible. Also," and she finishes off the wreath, passing it over to Steph, "try that on for size."

[controlledvariable]

"Of course," She should have known there'd be more to it than that, especially in Howl Barrow. Steph wonders ildy if she could drag Kate there (probably not). "If I worked in a candy store I'd probably die from sugar overdose, so good luck not munching on everything."

With a grin, she carefully takes the wreath and slips it onto her head, the same way Philomena is wearing hers; she strikes a 'model pose', hands on her hips and head turned slightly to the side, "How do I look?"