We know not what the old gods were were, but this dreadful sickly proto-celestial being knows it all.
They keep their mouth shut, and for reasons now lost.
A sad old and all knowing things, driven mad one moment and quiet the next for what they have witnessed,
and what they expect to come.
They cling to the charms of the past, and have the stooped posture of the betrayed.
They want simply to be left alone with their minds and their memories,
and those of course, so new and rough in their draft, tremble to hold on
to them. Sisters.