the angelic warden sat on his knees near a pond in the jungle. the air was humid, which forced the creatures living in the biome to hide away into their dens, until the unpleasant temperature cleared up and they could roam around the lands of sonaria. the angelic warden didn't seem to be bothered by the humidity, surprisingly, as he had longer fur and feathers. his wings were stiff and still, his whole body unmoving. his paws were placed neatly in his lap, the pearl that was said to hold the futures and fates of every sonarian floating just above his claws. the warden was completely silent, and seemed to be deep in thought about something.
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