tell the wolves I'm home
The air shorn and cut, and he muffled around pinnacle of laughter as he ducked below the suddenly cut grass. It was tempting to billow them all back into her features, bits and pieces of the wilderness labored and layered into her tresses, but he contented himself with amusements first and foremost. Her stubborn nature compelled and maneuvered his own into more lacquered furtiveness, and he snuck under guises of stalks wavering in the follies of the breeze.
He could’ve given her some boon, but not wanting to be one who simply let their beloveds win (no need to set those precedents), the Sword lingered outside the makeshift canopies; reforming them as soon as he was no longer within their confines. With any measure of luck or fortune, she’d spend most of her time combing through the remains, giving him ample opportunity of escape.
To which he started hastening for the shoreline again, enticed and inspired by the elements of his choosing.
He could’ve given her some boon, but not wanting to be one who simply let their beloveds win (no need to set those precedents), the Sword lingered outside the makeshift canopies; reforming them as soon as he was no longer within their confines. With any measure of luck or fortune, she’d spend most of her time combing through the remains, giving him ample opportunity of escape.
To which he started hastening for the shoreline again, enticed and inspired by the elements of his choosing.
the ressurected sword
