A Prayer by exmachinarium for errantknightess
04 Sep 2013
When Goldmund finally puts his tools aside, it's already far too dark to be working on the finer details of his sculpture.
The afternoon is blissfully warm, the softest of winds sifting through the leaves without disturbing stray droplets, remnants of the morning rain. In languid rays of the Sun, Mariabonn and all lands surrounding it gain an almost dreamlike quality. And perhaps this is what prompts Narcissus to request a most peculiar thing.