The indistinct essence of a daimonic guide is revealed in the stained glass windows of an anchorhold. Look past your whiskers, stare into the void, and raise your nose to the sky. Someone whose name you’ve forgotten wants you to know that they still get nervous around you. Everything overflows.
Visualize one of these things today: the color of bones, lapis lazuli, music in the key of F, the scent of crushed cardamom pods, and the assertive guidance of black hawthorn.
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