Alabaster stained the smooth carved trunks of the staggering pillars about the oasis of life. Like muscle, vines and ivy coiled thickly about the smooth facets of the marble, concealing much of it's featureless surface. There were about six or eight in total, arranged in a circular pattern, beneath the inner filling yet more smooth stone, but carved with delicate patterns of a foreign language. "Le persone che una volta camminato questa terra ..." Fluent Italian lyrics would flow from silvery lips, swathed in a thick accent. Of course the moon-caressed tempest knew English as well, yet she rather spoke her nativities when alone. Amethysts gazed out across the shrine, taking note of a peculiar aura emanating from it. Beneath the surface of a shallow pool lay shimmering stone, faceted in all directions and giving the shrine a green tint when the sun shone directly above. "Malachite, forse." Such gems reminded her of the gems of her own father, his merciless fury as he slayed her mother and siblings, keeping only the finest child as his trophy, the child born from the moon. Silvery lids fell over amethysts as she would approach the temple, reclining near the center, gazing into the depths of the waters, as if something would show up suddenly.
