Khadgar & EnviroSketch
I’ve always found that ancient ruins seem to hum with a quiet magic—do you think the layers of a landscape can hold a similar secret, or is it just the arcane that does that?
Yes, I feel the same. Each layer holds its own whisper—little shifts of light, moss, the angle of a stone. That quiet magic comes from the way the elements stay separate, like rooms in a ruined house. It isn’t about arcane spells; it’s about patience and respecting the layers, not letting them bleed into each other. And please, no waterfalls. They’re too dramatic for my taste.
Indeed, the steady quiet between layers is a kind of living memory—if we’re careful, that memory can guide us better than any spell. And I’ll leave the waterfalls to the splash‑mad ones.
That’s exactly what I think. A good layer is like an old stone wall—quiet but solid. Keep them separate, and the memory stays. Waterfalls? I’d rather keep my canvases calm. If you want guidance, just let the layers speak; they’ll tell you what they need.
You’ve got the right idea—those layers are like old friends who keep their own stories. Let them speak in their own quiet, and the whole place will feel right. And if it keeps the water from turning into a spectacle, that’s the best kind of calm.