Qua / Output

The shimmering beings of Ske'Lath Hor were a peaceful race, given only to thoughts of soft apples and rubber-bands and tides of grass-stalks. Their faces, punctured as they were by eyes, watered and large, bore no sign of unhappiness or the aches of modernity. A faint glow littered their wake as they passed by; a slight resonance that was felt upon the cochlea and the skull of man. Their language was of mithered clicks and flicking chirrups, and as they sang, they lifted also the heart and the being. And it was for this fact, most of all, that they could not remain. Except in trace. Except in memory. Except in music.

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