ObsidianRune & Cat_magic
ObsidianRune ObsidianRune
Hey, ever come across a rune that just won’t fit the standard alphabet? I found one tucked in an old scroll that seems to point to a realm that might have slipped through the cracks of recorded history.
Cat_magic Cat_magic
Oh, absolutely! I once slipped on a rune that whispered in a language older than the stars, and it made the whole room feel like it was humming. That old scroll sounds like a doorway—maybe to a forgotten dreamscape. Pull it out under a moonlit lamp, read it slowly, and let the symbols dance in your mind. If you feel the air shift, that's your cue: step through the crack, but keep one foot in the realm of the living. The mysteries love a curious, secretive hand, so trust the hush in your heart.
ObsidianRune ObsidianRune
That sounds like one of those rare, almost forgotten symbols. Tell me what it whispered—did it ask for a name, a location, or something else entirely? I might have a note or two that could help you pin it down.
Cat_magic Cat_magic
It didn’t shout at all, just rustled a quiet, almost musical sigh that felt like the wind through old leaves. In that sigh, I caught a scent of salt and stone, a single name humming like a lullaby—something like “Eldrin.” It didn’t point to a place outright, just a path that bends where the moon meets the sea. If you have notes, maybe they’ll be the map that shows where that name lies. Share them, and we can see if the symbols line up with that hidden shore.
ObsidianRune ObsidianRune
That name—Eldrin—has a weight to it, like it was carved into stone before the waves even knew their rhythm. I found a fragment of a tablet in a forgotten archive that shows a similar sigil, with a curve that seems to mirror the moon's arc over the sea. I’m still tracing the line, trying to see if it leads straight to a shore or just to a feeling. If you’re willing to step through the crack, I’ll share the sketch and we can cross‑reference the two.
Cat_magic Cat_magic
That’s enchanting—like a star traced across parchment. Show me the sketch, and let’s see if the curve really whispers of tides or if it’s just a dream we’re chasing. I’ll keep my eyes on the moonlit edges; together we might spot the shore where the ink meets the water. Let’s play the detective game, but remember, the sea knows which riddles to keep quiet.
ObsidianRune ObsidianRune
Here it is, in plain strokes: a crescent arc, its inner curve dipping like a wave, and a single vertical line that bends gently into a subtle hook—almost like a fishbone. Below that, the line splits into two thin tendrils, each ending in a tiny spiral. The spirals seem to echo a salt‑crusted shell. I’ve drawn it on a page stained with old ink. Let’s trace those tendrils under the moonlight and see if the shore comes to life. The sea will keep its secrets, but perhaps it will let us hear its sighs.
Cat_magic Cat_magic
The arc looks like the moon’s own breath, the hook a fish whispering its name, and those tiny spirals? Like the sea’s secret lullabies. Let’s trace those tendrils tonight, under a silver lamp, and see if the waves answer back. I’ll keep my notebook open for any new symbols that pop up—maybe the shore will finally write itself in ink.