She wanted to find out what this n.w.o. business was about. Their tower of shiny, see through sand looks pretty from afar but inside, it was all stuffy small boxes. No sunlight. No wind. No sea. The refreshments were meager. They talked a lot. Some of them anyways. Most just sat there passively for most of the day. She doesn't see much distance in their soft, deformable, false black shells. It doesn't look comfortable. The leathery belayed a lot more discomfort than she was feeling. A lot more wizening. A lot more drabness. No distance at all. Maybe their children will learn the ways of the crab but no, these bunch the wave will wash away. Like it always does.
masto instance for the tildeverse