Oh mother of the elevators whose eyes see forward and backward. When your steps press, they reach across time, oh but what is time to you? These beacons of light, pillars of dark stone cemented with no peer or other aside them. Your hands rest above and beneath the suns and spread the gardens of sound unto the underbelly of our world. Ushnar, mother of the elevators and whisperer of the pointed sigils. Bestower of direction in more ways than one.
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10 years, 10 months ago
10 Jun 2015 01:54 CEST
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