Widofjord Week 2019
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“What the fuck was that?” Beau says, staring at the giant fungus on the floor of the cave.
“I have a vague idea. It looks like a myconid, but it looks… wrong,” Caduceus says, inspecting the thing with his staff. “Did anyone physically touch it with their bare hands?”
There’s a chorus of no and what the fuck, ew. Then, a bit beyond the myconid, a groan.
“I think I-” is all Fjord gets out before he stumbles right into Yasha.Series
- Part 1 of Widofjord Week 2019
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Something hooks into his chest yet again as Caleb is finishing up the third braid, moving to braid the ends together. It nags at him as he stands up on coltish legs, Caleb looking a little confused as he does. It’s urgent yet creeping all the same as he excuses himself to go to sleep, the shadow of something he can’t quite shake even as he wakes up the next day, limbs and heart oddly heavy, listening to Caleb’s soft snores from the other side of the bed.
His food tastes of nothing. His beer tastes of nothing. Fjord sees valleys and snow-covered mountains and blue skies and stars and moons and Fjord feels nothing.
Series
- Part 2 of Widofjord Week 2019