just be wherever you are

sleeplessly embracing, butterflies
and needles line my seamed-up joints

It was creeping past midnight, and the moon was full. Octavius was currently tipsy, but alone, having parted ways with friends after leaving the White Hart. He normally would have gone home, but apparently, he was tipsy enough that home was harder to find than usual, tipsy enough to stumble through some trees into the Eye of the Storm by accident.

Once he was here, however, he was struck by how beautiful the place was, especially at night. The moon's gentle glow illuminated the water and surrounding landscape in lovely tones of silver, lending an ethereal quality to the scene. From afar, the occasional bawdy reveler yelled or sung, music and laughter echoed from an open window, but those sounds were muted. The loudest sound Octavius could hear was that of insects calling to each other, the eternal nighttime chorus of Longheat. The water was completely still but for a gentle ripple and some rising steam.

There was nothing left to do but remove his clothing and jump right in. The nighttime was cool and even a bit chilly, which lent itself well to the pleasantly warm waters of the spring. Upon entering the water, Octavius rested his elbows along the edge and gazed into the sky, mostly admiring the moon.

He had come here before but never at night, and he was pleased with his discovery of its relative peace. Normally, during the day, it was quite populated with people enjoying the water and bathing. It was well-loved by the people of the city; he knew that much. The Eye of the Storm was one of few good things that came as a result of the war.

Encased in case I need it, in my stomach,
For my heart, chain mail

Octavius