𓍝.

[ He trails behind him in a daze, an unreadable expression sits on his face. Though, never once does he pull his hand away. There's a mix of signals in his head that don't seem to sit right. He had questions, but surely would find no answers. Why was he in faerun?

[ He feels groggy, as if barely waking up. He's convinced that at any moment he'd wake up once again out of another dream. The single flap of one of his wings causes a subtle wince. They ache, that's clear enough to see. But he barely has the energy to muster a

In the alter room . [ He remembers that much . There's something inside that festers however, like the faintest lick of a soured memory. ] I .. only remember praying . Then i dreamt and here i am . [ he can't explain it. Turning to Rishon, he furrows a brow. ]

No . [ He furrows his brows, resting a hand against his head. His nails dig into his skin just a bit. ] I had a terrible .. nightmare - I was in a different place I wasn't in aver—

Good morning Rishon -

[ immediately turning to swing ]

—— The night began in silence, say for the faint murmurs of prayer that slipped from cold lips. Ozimandias knelt before the alter, half lidded eyes trace every etched detail that gave life to the stone . The doubts continued to fester, as much as he wanted to bury it all.