Tell the tales of the trail of dead
Lovers learned from slower hands
Lovers learned from slower hands
It was nearly sunset when there was a pounding on Liam’s door. He’d been making dinner - just a simple stew - and paused while chopping carrots as he heard a familiar voice through the wood. Frowning, he set aside his knife and wiped his hands on a towel; he tossed the towel over a shoulder as he strode quickly to the door.
When he opened it, it was to find Maea waiting impatiently, practically bouncing with excitement. Her pale form gleamed a reddish gold in the light of the dying sun, and he was struck once more by the ethereal beauty that seemed to emanate from within the Ancient. A soft smile played on his lips, even as confusion marred his brow. Had he forgotten some date, some agreed upon plans? Surely he’d have remembered?
”Hey,” he said. ”What is it? Are you okay?”
When he opened it, it was to find Maea waiting impatiently, practically bouncing with excitement. Her pale form gleamed a reddish gold in the light of the dying sun, and he was struck once more by the ethereal beauty that seemed to emanate from within the Ancient. A soft smile played on his lips, even as confusion marred his brow. Had he forgotten some date, some agreed upon plans? Surely he’d have remembered?
”Hey,” he said. ”What is it? Are you okay?”
Losing self in myself
And my demons make demands
And my demons make demands
Liam
