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[lore] Black Mirrors
🕑 Added 2021-03-08 22:23:19 +0000 UTC[best read with this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hc6vKdY8pGk]
There is no religion among them.
No gods or higher beings to pray to, for they believe in self. Yet still, a quiet chant that flows in dreams of nighttime sleep... are feared most. Voices that flow from that other side of mirrors in one's home, covered in rags and clothes.
Those aching for these songs are called "dreamers" - for they dwell in dreams way more than in the world around.
"Lailanh".
And from times of distant yore it is easy to know one among crowd. Their eyes filled with thoughts of something only they see and know, craving for something unseen and unheard. something that they see in their dreams.
Something that they cherish so, so much.
Something in somewhere, where their melodies of wanders call them...
... Once, neighbour will ask "where is she, who weaved those beautiful scarfs of silk?". "Where is one who gazed over our river every evening?"
People will come to their homes, eventually. To find it still and quiet, as if no one's home and just forgot to clean up.
And them as well.
Some have faces so tranquil as if they are just asleep. Some are stained with tears. Some were in their nests, some remained still before their mirrors.
For never to move again.
Living ones leave their homes open and their mirrors unsheathed. In hope that one who left on "roads of ashen-gray grass" will, eventually, come back - and see through their mirrors from that, other side. And see that they are missed. Missed so much...
From times of yore Yaraga were afraid of dreams. For how tempting might those be.
From times of yore they knew the pats that lay behind black-stained mirrors.
From times of yore they called is with poetic words - "road of gray grass.
Tomana na llaila.
![[lore] Black Mirrors](https://img10.leakoo.com/storage/5/ji/ol/93d9f0-019e8d49-04cd-7571-b970-e125fd74ada0.png)
