Seren
In the gathering dusk the last vestiges of a once blazing sunset died a slow death beneath the waves of the sea. As the warmth of another glorious day faded a wind picked up and blew restlessly in over the shore, whipping waves into froth as it went. It was cold, pregnant with moisture from some autumnal storm brewing far out beyond the horizon. Though the sky was clear still, and the stars kindling bright in the twilight, the scent of salt and brine and distant rain whispered of things to come. Perhaps tonight, perhaps in an age... but come it would.
On its rocky outcropping the lighthouse stood tall and eternal, unflappable in the face of the changing seasons. Someone had set up an easel and canvas nearby, but the cloth remained untouched and the jars of paint so neatly lined up had not even been opened. A dragon lay curled up around the items, half asleep but with one eye cracked open. To watch for intruders, and guard the slender figure of a girl who had strayed off onto the rocks. The pale cloth of her dress rippled and tangled into her legs where she roamed, and she walked with her arms wrapped about herself. Lamenting the lack of a shawl, and the fading light that stole away the warmth and threatened to drive her off in search of warmer clothes.
She didn't want to leave just yet. The light was not entirely gone - she could linger a while longer. What she waited for, she dared not give voice to even in the recess of her own mind. But she was waiting all the same. Anxiously, restlessly.
On its rocky outcropping the lighthouse stood tall and eternal, unflappable in the face of the changing seasons. Someone had set up an easel and canvas nearby, but the cloth remained untouched and the jars of paint so neatly lined up had not even been opened. A dragon lay curled up around the items, half asleep but with one eye cracked open. To watch for intruders, and guard the slender figure of a girl who had strayed off onto the rocks. The pale cloth of her dress rippled and tangled into her legs where she roamed, and she walked with her arms wrapped about herself. Lamenting the lack of a shawl, and the fading light that stole away the warmth and threatened to drive her off in search of warmer clothes.
She didn't want to leave just yet. The light was not entirely gone - she could linger a while longer. What she waited for, she dared not give voice to even in the recess of her own mind. But she was waiting all the same. Anxiously, restlessly.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
In secret, between the shadow and the soul
In secret, between the shadow and the soul
