Tren Krellos exhaled as though in meditation, as he pruned another dead flower from one of the delicate nere trees in his little courtyard. Lingering in the moment of bisection, he savoured small details: the push of the secateur handles against his fingers, the grating of the blades as they slid across each other, the moisture already forming where the cut had been made. He couldn’t help a chuckle at the ridiculousness that someone who had once hunted beings for money could delight in the simple pleasures of tending his garden. Nevertheless, here he was.
Krellos - now El-Krellos among the Ele - took another deep breath, the aroma of the nere trees reaching him even through his boxy mask. Fresh, like mint or tea, but rich and hearty like honey. He moved to wipe his brow, feeling the heat of El-Kera’s sun, and his glove clattered across his glassy Builder mask. Ah, of course. Begrudgingly, El-Krellos set down the secateurs and gently removed his mask, letting his face take in fresh air as he wiped away sweat.
It wasn’t long before the creeping started - a silent, subtle movement in his peripheral vision, like creatures approaching or walls closing in. When he looked, everything went still, but then, again! Desperately, his heartbeat quickening, Krellos slammed his mask back on, hoping its limited view would shut out whatever was out there.
Sure enough, his vision stilled again. He’d need to ask someone about that, he mused. Best keep the mask on until then.
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