The Judges Of Sabra La Tau (sabra_la_iudex) wrote in sabra_la_tau, |
The cobblestone streets are quiet. Out in the city, there will be people stirring; faint on the morning breeze is the scent of baking bread. But here, all is still, the morning flowers planted throughout the gardens still closed, the great temple and coliseumcracked and dry. On the judges' throne is a shapeless block of smooth, matte black obsidian, roughly the size of a seated child. Deep cracks mar its surface, and as you enter, a piece
dark as night. It is the Dreamer's time still, and she holds all within her hold. Still, in the promise of this and each day before, the great sky above