[Jade glances down at the bottle, her expression somber for a moment, before she reaches into the pouch of her jacket to pull out a pipe.
[At least while she's here, she might as well enjoy the Peaceweed that she's accustomed to.]
Seven or so winters ago, a boy was born with horrible disfigurements. The bumps and boils all over his body were excruciating, but he survived. However, people still called him a monster; they hated him just for existing. Even his own father discarded the boy, more like an unwanted dog than a human being. His mother left him with a gem, and gave him away to a widower from a poor village, who kindly took him in.
But the world was not kind -- it never is. Even though the widower accepted the boy, the rest of the world did not, and the villagers believed the boy to be demonic. Eventually, they stormed their house and murdered the widower in his own home, and tried to kill the frightened boy as well. L
But then his mother's gem spoke to him. It asked him what he wished for, and the boy wished to be loved. For people to like him. And so that gem created this place -- the Silvergrove as we see it now.
[As she speaks, she's stuffing the pipe with the familiar green petals, as though it were a cyclic ritual she could do in her sleep. When she finishes, she pulls out a firetwig, lights the bowl, and breathes it in.]
So, ultimately... This illusion isn't a shield from the world. It's his own personal hell that no one who comes here could ever escape from.
[Until a Prophetess came along and ended the illusion, but that's a different story. She ended it before, and she knows she'll have to see to its end again. But maybe she can make it a little more right this time.]
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[Jade glances down at the bottle, her expression somber for a moment, before she reaches into the pouch of her jacket to pull out a pipe.
[At least while she's here, she might as well enjoy the Peaceweed that she's accustomed to.]
Seven or so winters ago, a boy was born with horrible disfigurements. The bumps and boils all over his body were excruciating, but he survived. However, people still called him a monster; they hated him just for existing. Even his own father discarded the boy, more like an unwanted dog than a human being. His mother left him with a gem, and gave him away to a widower from a poor village, who kindly took him in.
But the world was not kind -- it never is. Even though the widower accepted the boy, the rest of the world did not, and the villagers believed the boy to be demonic. Eventually, they stormed their house and murdered the widower in his own home, and tried to kill the frightened boy as well. L
But then his mother's gem spoke to him. It asked him what he wished for, and the boy wished to be loved. For people to like him. And so that gem created this place -- the Silvergrove as we see it now.
[As she speaks, she's stuffing the pipe with the familiar green petals, as though it were a cyclic ritual she could do in her sleep. When she finishes, she pulls out a firetwig, lights the bowl, and breathes it in.]
So, ultimately... This illusion isn't a shield from the world. It's his own personal hell that no one who comes here could ever escape from.
[Until a Prophetess came along and ended the illusion, but that's a different story. She ended it before, and she knows she'll have to see to its end again. But maybe she can make it a little more right this time.]