At last, the cursed thing opens, but not by the will of any god. On its other side is the principality, looking far from pleased to see her again.
"You are not one to order me," she replies. "I came here of my own will. I desire an audience with your symbiote."
With that pronouncement, she purposefully crosses the threshold and enters. It is...small, much like Illyria's own tiny square of a kingdom, but unlike her bare space it is bedecked with useless mortal things. Books for one, and it is with great annoyance that she realizes it is growing progressively more difficult to dispel the unpleasant mental associations of grief that have coupled themselves to the idea of books. She wishes to burn them.
Once, she may have. Now she merely sweeps past, following the whispers of the green things. Their host looks precisely as it did in the dream. What an odd little thing.
"I have no wish to cause violence," says Illyria, directing her gaze to first the principality, then its charge.
no subject
"You are not one to order me," she replies. "I came here of my own will. I desire an audience with your symbiote."
With that pronouncement, she purposefully crosses the threshold and enters. It is...small, much like Illyria's own tiny square of a kingdom, but unlike her bare space it is bedecked with useless mortal things. Books for one, and it is with great annoyance that she realizes it is growing progressively more difficult to dispel the unpleasant mental associations of grief that have coupled themselves to the idea of books. She wishes to burn them.
Once, she may have. Now she merely sweeps past, following the whispers of the green things. Their host looks precisely as it did in the dream. What an odd little thing.
"I have no wish to cause violence," says Illyria, directing her gaze to first the principality, then its charge.