We hovered, a flea against sheer bandwidth. The god towered
over the institute of art it presently demolished. Its torso
rose uninterrupted from a long chariot, perhaps a hundred
meters below. Both torso and chariot were a shade of
blackness we had not seen elsewhere, and we didn't know
whether this was the coloring of the wood that was its
primary component or some patina the god had acquired
durings its long life of divine actions. Its head was the
size of a small temple, the same dark hue. Staves of its
face rearranged themselves to convey mood, a righteous
determination, as the god plunged hands through whole floors
of architecture. Behind the god was a swath cut through the
city, where other structures had fallen.

— bbs: brad brace sound —
— http://63.170.215.11:8000 —

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