Intro | Dreamlings for sale | G1 Orders | Breeding | Pigments and Quirks | Potions and Dusts | Affiliates | Advanced Settings | Discord
Non Lore updates to the thread: Restock 8/26/23.
It’s not quite a building. It’s more of a feeling you get when you walk down the road the clan up the way told you about. A way the grass is damp when it hasn’t rained in days and the smell of petrichor heavy in the air. A bend in the light as it passes through the towering bald cypress and loblolly pine trees, sometimes catching on the late blooming dogwood that peers between the gaps as flashes of white or pink caught only at edges of your vision. A way the sun is always overhead but the shadows show golden hour on one side of the road and dawn on the other and on the road the eye of the Lightweaver looks down upon you critically. There’s nothing out here but the clan told you for sure this was the way to go. What’s supposed to be out here? There’s nothing.
And then like a crack in the air there is… something. But it’s not a building. It’s nothing. But it’s also something bigger than expected. It seems to shift shape and size even while you look at it like something from a dream, something with undeterminable space and volume.
A bell rings as you step inside. Unlike the outside the inside is stable. Concrete. Current. But its still hard to make out details as they swim through your vision carried by a heavy mist. The oppressive heat you felt outside is gone, replaced by what feels like a cool summer night in the Icefields.
A wildclaw is the only thing visible in the space. You think it's a shop. The clan said it was a shop… of sorts. If you could call a collection of dreams a shop they’d said. They’re bothering with some strange beings that curl and hover around them like liquid moonlight. Like everything else in the shop there’s something about them. They appear as though they exist at the behest of moonlight, seen in shifting light and shadows of unknown and impossible trees. Moons of every phase seem to swim around between their wings that’s filled with stars, is stars, is a collection of stars, is the nightsky? You’re not quite sure.
They only look at you when the door closes.
It’s not quite a building. It’s more of a feeling you get when you walk down the road the clan up the way told you about. A way the grass is damp when it hasn’t rained in days and the smell of petrichor heavy in the air. A bend in the light as it passes through the towering bald cypress and loblolly pine trees, sometimes catching on the late blooming dogwood that peers between the gaps as flashes of white or pink caught only at edges of your vision. A way the sun is always overhead but the shadows show golden hour on one side of the road and dawn on the other and on the road the eye of the Lightweaver looks down upon you critically. There’s nothing out here but the clan told you for sure this was the way to go. What’s supposed to be out here? There’s nothing.
And then like a crack in the air there is… something. But it’s not a building. It’s nothing. But it’s also something bigger than expected. It seems to shift shape and size even while you look at it like something from a dream, something with undeterminable space and volume.
A bell rings as you step inside. Unlike the outside the inside is stable. Concrete. Current. But its still hard to make out details as they swim through your vision carried by a heavy mist. The oppressive heat you felt outside is gone, replaced by what feels like a cool summer night in the Icefields.
A wildclaw is the only thing visible in the space. You think it's a shop. The clan said it was a shop… of sorts. If you could call a collection of dreams a shop they’d said. They’re bothering with some strange beings that curl and hover around them like liquid moonlight. Like everything else in the shop there’s something about them. They appear as though they exist at the behest of moonlight, seen in shifting light and shadows of unknown and impossible trees. Moons of every phase seem to swim around between their wings that’s filled with stars, is stars, is a collection of stars, is the nightsky? You’re not quite sure.
They only look at you when the door closes.
|
“Ah, there you are. You’re late,” he says. “What didn’t know you were arriving? No. They never do I suppose. Well come in, I don’t have all day now and there’s quite a bit to explain and I’m sure you’re going to ask many questions. My least favorite part.” He smiles but he doesn’t look pleased you’ve interrupted him with… whatever it is he’s doing. He moves to behind a desk that you hadn’t seen before. The little wisps around him swirl and swim among the shimmering moons and stars that follow him around the shop. You go stand across from him and see it isn’t just little wisps. It’s creatures. Little tiny creatures as big as his claw. Cats, dogs, foxes, birds, snakes, fish, whales and more besides, all swirling and swimming in the mist and stars hanging around him, shifting like clouds through different creatures. “I will try to keep this short. Normals like you don’t fare well slipping through the veil. I am Anasa, this is my shop. I sell dreams. Well, I sell the dreams of dragons and beastclans who have dreamed them up. It gets quite crowded in the Deeprealm sometimes you know with all these dreams and flights of fancy running about. Someone’s got to take care of them or they’ll run amuck or get into right trouble. Now you’re here to buy something, aren’t you?” |
 Dragon art by pwnk |
