Azalaea

At this moment, she awoke.

And upon waking, she thought she saw a ghost.  Faint flickerings pass, her vision clouded with images.  Her slumber broken, a patch cleared in Azalaea.

Bleh, don’t like this much, but don’t feel like replacing it or rewriting it right now, and I did write it then… oh well.

A possible connection to a passage from an older unfinished story.  It feels like the same story world anyway:

She had no idea how long she had been lost, time had long since held no meaning for her.  She seemed to float amongst a white smoke, like in an early morning fog.  Her long flowing hair was silvery white and her skin ivory.  Her limbs hang around her as if disjointed as she seemed to float in the midst of it all.  But most extraordinary of all was her eyes, the right was the original pale green-blue, and the left was stranger still, a pale yellow.  While from a distance, the pair were seemingly normal enough, but when they stared into your eyes, from the left came such a powerful force, it would leave you reeling from the immense quantity of magic infused into that one eye. For so long, they had remained closed, she had no need to open them to see for all that time, but now they stirred, fluttering open to stare past the sameness of the mists surrounding her, staring off into the distance.

For something was coming.

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