And Still, We Stand
The morning’s sun struggled to break through the grey along the Firth but Aev had been up for hours, milling around the gardens on the great island of East Speirling. Though she had the magick to keep the ongoing downpour from her, she had allowed it to drench her cloak as she went about her chores. The velvet, weighed down by the water, clung to her arms as she moved in a seeming rhythm as she worked. She reached for another glowing petaled treasure, stepping forward, and the cloak slapped against the backs of her ankles—reach, pluck, step, slap, slosh, reach, pluck, step, slap, slosh. What would have been a fresh crop of tea roses elsewhere in Caledon, in Speirling, they were something to behold. The Speirlinium veins that ran beneath the islands seeped through the soil, affecting the flora and fauna in rather interesting ways. If they hadn’t been frightened away from all of the rumors of witches and otherkins, the colonial scientists of Caledon would surely be crawling around th