Damascus stops when she sees the poster, carved wooden mask swiveling to regard it impassively. A few moments later, she sets down her bag of groceries, seemingly unable to move on.
Irritated Ul'dahns begin to flow around her in the well traveled avenue, and she becomes a small island of stillness in that flood of life and commerce. The shadows change, and the crowds morph, different groups of people heading towards different places. Noon morphs slowly into evening, and the Miqo'te still stands.Â
Finally, she reaches down to retrieve her parcel, shaking out soreness from her stiff knees. The mask gives the poster one last look, hiding whatever expression the face below might show. Damascus turns, her voice a whisper among the low roar of the throng, "...all for the best."
Then she rejoins that great stream, back towards her home.
Irritated Ul'dahns begin to flow around her in the well traveled avenue, and she becomes a small island of stillness in that flood of life and commerce. The shadows change, and the crowds morph, different groups of people heading towards different places. Noon morphs slowly into evening, and the Miqo'te still stands.Â
Finally, she reaches down to retrieve her parcel, shaking out soreness from her stiff knees. The mask gives the poster one last look, hiding whatever expression the face below might show. Damascus turns, her voice a whisper among the low roar of the throng, "...all for the best."
Then she rejoins that great stream, back towards her home.