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Description
Nestled in the peaks of the Pyrenees, in-between the howls of wind, that brisk, almost deafening cold—was a village. In that village, there lied tables. And on those tables, were strewn out hundreds of papers. They were making a map in the deep wintry cold—one of highs, lows, achievements, and faults, and one that would show the world not as it was, but as it was seen to them. A tapestry, of sorts, woven together by fate and physics. As they put the last touches on the document, that rush of papers finally quieted, their clocks struck twelve, and at it, they finally rested.
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One of my alt-migration timelines from awhile ago. Thought I'd post it here as it wasn't doing much in my long backlog of maps and other assorted graphics. Happy Holidays!

Description
Nestled in the peaks of the Pyrenees, in-between the howls of wind, that brisk, almost deafening cold—was a village. In that village, there lied tables. And on those tables, were strewn out hundreds of papers. They were making a map in the deep wintry cold—one of highs, lows, achievements, and faults, and one that would show the world not as it was, but as it was seen to them. A tapestry, of sorts, woven together by fate and physics. As they put the last touches on the document, that rush of papers finally quieted, their clocks struck twelve, and at it, they finally rested.
--
One of my alt-migration timelines from awhile ago. Thought I'd post it here as it wasn't doing much in my long backlog of maps and other assorted graphics. Happy Holidays!