The moon is high overhead, but not much light filters down. I don't really notice though, my vision is not limited to what the cones in my eyes can and cannot do. Nor is my bare skin impacted by the fact that there is very little covering it. Indeed, when I awakened from my centuries-long slumber, most of my clothing had disintegrated. That does not matter either. I can feel my body working slightly harder to compensate and keep my shell at an appropriate temperature, but after so long having done very little, I do not mind stressing it slightly.
Standing, I stare at the Spire. Out of the guardian's radius I offer little in the way of movement that would attract its attention were it to be out anyways. I doubt it is though. I am no threat after all. Still, I am respectfully wary.
I do not feel sadness anymore, but if I did, I think I would be feeling it now. There is something emotive about the softly falling snow, white upon the black Spire, the silence, the cold, the utter lack of shadows in the moonlight.
Standing, I stare at the Spire. Out of the guardian's radius I offer little in the way of movement that would attract its attention were it to be out anyways. I doubt it is though. I am no threat after all. Still, I am respectfully wary.
I do not feel sadness anymore, but if I did, I think I would be feeling it now. There is something emotive about the softly falling snow, white upon the black Spire, the silence, the cold, the utter lack of shadows in the moonlight.
