Tourmaline sat in a small clearing and dreamed of crystal.
It was strange how it seemed no harder, out here in the hills, than it had back at home, sitting beneath his previous work. The trees didn't rise up invitingly with his thoughts, but neither was he distracted by the play of light through mana. The swirling rhythms of creation were muted here, distant. Enough to breathe, but not enough to drown in.
Sometimes he sculpted his own body to test out an idea, but it was hardly necessary. The thoughts would come together, or they would not, and it would be obvious when they did, experiments or no. He toyed with the idea of keeping some of his architectural improvements, but in the end he reverted to the form in which he had first met the Marshalls. No need to make things complicated. The benefits of recognition still outweighed the benefits of change.
It was amazing how little his new understanding of the world had changed him. He'd have to pass it on, of course, to those who could make better use of it, but the next couple of years of his life still stretched before him in well-planned harmony, rather the same as they had been last season. Even if his initial theories had been correct, rather than the rather naively hopeful views his fellow crystalline entities appeared to hold, at least he would leave a fitting legacy.
A trail of incomprehensible crystalline monuments sounded exactly like the kind of mark his Lady would like him to leave on Her world.