floatingoranges
The pressure was mounting. Of all the people in his village, the elders had selected him. The process was unclear, whether by right or ritual or by the Gods. Luce wasn't the smartest. He didn't hunt the best. He was never the worst, and yet, here he was, in front of his people with a staff in hand and a cape draped around his neck. It was him.
writing since 2016 · 1 entries · 1 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Jessica showed up.
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the words Jessica reaches for
pressuremountingvillageeldersselectedprocessunclearwhetherritualgodslucesmartesthuntbestworststaff