[In the Chamber of Glyphs stands a form that the Storyteller does not often take. Humanoid at its core, with a pale, featureless face the color of metallic powder; tall and long-limbed and cloaked with dark formlessness where the definitions in their bare skin should be. The drawings in the Chamber shift subtly around them, conveying a tale of a festival with little stick figures dancing in wide circles around a great cauldron filled with flowers.]
no subject
Yes?
[They respond, without turning.]