Dabria's Den

:|: You feel like you're not supposed to be here. :|:

:|: The air around you dips to something near-freezing. Your lungs begin to feel heavy, sodden, oceanic bile gurgling in your throat. With each step you tread closer to the opalline figure standing motionless before the tiny, lifeless cub peering into nothing with its singular clouded eye, you struggle to take breath. You feel like you're drowning. You feel like you're floating. Fear and peace wage war in the back of your consciousness as the blindfolded head turns to face you unhurriedly. :|:

:|: " All life is precious, " The voice seems to echo from all around you, gentle and impassive at once. " Any life lived is a life to be mourned, to be cherished, however short. But don't be afraid to let lives go... " The being's massive paw grazes the cold body with a featherlight touch. The touch of a mother. The touch of the sunlight. The touch of love, a thousand times spoken and unspoken. :|:
:|: " They always come back to you somehow. " From the mouth of the cave, a moth flutters in, seeking the ethereal light bouncing from the stone walls, the false-eye markings on each of its wings mirroring the cub-blue stare of the cyclopic cadaver. :|:

:|: You begin to understand. :|:

:|: The heaviness in your lungs begins to clear. :|:

{{Background Credit goes to Scilenci (#79146)}}

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