when the colors fade

Everyone knows Pythia is blind, but they also don't pity her. At least, they know better than to do that. So when she trots off with a sibling to go south for an adventure, they don't balk. They don't stop her even if its in their best interest to do so. Except, she keeps spouting off about Abraxas and finding her path to godhood that they really can't argue. Blind as bat, but persistent as a fucking border collie and Abraxas was her god damn tennis ball.

Carefully tracing her path across the plains toward the wash of the ocean, she stops, startled by the uneven terrain. This didn't feel normal. Words of others carried by the wind told her that the rivulets made in the ground were not here the day before. Did this correlate with the spires? "Abraxas, I pray that you relay answers to me," she whispers softly under her breath, suddenly caught by a familiar scent.

"Tide?" Pythia raises her ghostly tones, calling out to her tiny brother. What have you found?" She cuts straight to the point. There was nothing nonsensical about the girl, ever.

"speech"