s y r i c h o l l o w | The sky was barren; no clouds emptied themselves onto the sun, no clouds blocked his view. Today was Escastia’s return, and it was a return that nobody would covet. The sun beat down on her back with malice aforethought. The sun was at its highest peak, tossing down its forever burgeoning carpet of light. The sun had plucked out all the broken stars all the pulchritudinous stars and he had let the moon dwindle away. The moon, however, was still quite visible; it was an immense star, outshining even the brightest of the bright. Today, however, the sun was overpowering the moon as if it were a dot in the sky. The sun was infuriated with all the horses, or perhaps the moon had challenged him to strife, to see which ball could exceed the other one. In the end, the sun had won. The moon’s light dwindled away until it was completely invisible, and then its white craters could not be seen, and then the entire moon waved “Valediction!” to the world of Syric Hollow. Night was completely gone now; the sun had taken over its place with a pale Prussian glow. Escastia stood on top of the cliff, slightly piqued at the gargantuan palm trees for not giving her shade. She squinted her eyes to look at the sun and then suddenly turned away, closing her eyes tightly. Indeed, the sun was angered, for he had the audacity to cause pain on an unsuspecting quadruped.
Escastia One pound of Ambition and one ounce of Hypocrisy
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