Dream Journal: 2019-05-19.01

“Hello, Weaver.”

I had not heard them approach from the night’s darkness. It was only after they spoke that I heard the sounds of their movements. As I turned to face them, I reached into my satchel out of instinct to grab something, anything, that I might be able to use to defend myself from the type of spirit that was now just two bodies’ length away from me.

As if I could defend myself from a djinn.

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Dream Journal: 2015-02-23.01

No one recognized me as I entered the tattoo parlor. Weaver may have one helluva reputation, but Keri is just another human as far as this corner of the realms was concerned. So no one gave me a second look as I signed a pseudonym on the check-in register and took my seat between the human pirate reeking of last night’s bad decisions and the renegade alfar waiting to defile his skin with even more blasphemous marks.
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