>Wowzowski’s sputtering and the heavy winds faded away as the sound of breathing suddenly filled the room. No, not suddenly. It had been there the whole time, he just hadn’t noticed. It was there before he turned to look, before they’d entered the room, before the light had burst. He realized he could hear that breathing before Winter even started. Before he had been born. Before the first dogs were borne from the Trees and before the Gods and before any speck of living will existed to gaze upon the universe, he could hear that breathing. It held a consistent, unwavering rhythm, too perfect to be produced by any sort of fallible muscle or membrane.
>Poppy warmed her hands in her pocket, enjoying the gentle breeze flowing through her hair. Gate or force field, the Blizzard’s winds were always going to find some way to slip in, no matter what. She closed her eyes as a familiar sound filled her senses. The same sound she had heard all those years ago, when her sisters plucked her from the snow fields at the crack of Winter. A sound she had never stopped hearing, no matter the season. A sound that she realized she had always heard but never noticed, since before she was born. Since before anything else.
>Breathing.
>Waiting.
Well these little tid bits are a bit creepy. Feeling like you've heard breathing since before you were born and it being ever present? Assuming this isn't just some flowery prose I wanna say that the Specters predate the gods, maybe be present since the beginning of the primordial chaos that started the Poppyverse.
