I, Mage. (1)

Limited absolutely. If I had a great dream, it wasn’t this.

The first symbol of Art, the hue that sits of the runes.

  
Ha, runes. They are ruining my concentration of late. Bundled in binds. 

I wild the power of the ancient worlds, every decision I make, a spokesman of the currently aggrieved. The faint of heart. The scared of mosters.

Limited, though. Each decision a tree in a branch of the year. The future and the past mushed like a madness. 

I don’t know what, I imagined life as a wizard would be like. Oceans seek me, mountains speak to me, trees ruffle the way the koi tickle their roots. I’m watching these clouds and am beginning to think they want to talk to me too. 

  

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