06-15-2017, 06:52 PM
the night is my companion, and solitude my guide.
The shadows are writhing and pulsing against her, its very heartbeat palpitating against the coolness of her night-kissed skin. She shivers, though not with the chill that the night brings upon her, but with anticipation, with eagerness, nearly with excitement. Her body hums with the stimulation of the shadows against her, feeling her and exploring her, roving the soft and sloping lines. She is so innocent, so naïve – her thoughts do not even let her begin to question why or how this has happened to her; she is merely so enthralled, so elated, that she simply cannot fathom that the phantom touch and caresses are not something good, something beautiful.
Her lips wander, as if they could find something solid to press against, though she knew that the twist and turn of the shadows would escape from her touch. Instead, it finds her, the force beneath the soft skin of her ear pressing against her like a gentle kiss; it was as if the darkness remembers her. It turns her, so delicately and so carefully, as if not to break the spell that it had cast over her. The shadows have returned to their keeper, vibrant with life – more so than she remembers before the Reckoning. It is almost as if the shadows she once knew so well have now come back as a gift to her, piecing themselves together to form a being – an entity – that sings to her very soul. It has a voice, it has a pulse, and it has her.
Shadow, it repeats to her, with a voice as rich and smooth as the darkness that consumes her. So very alone, she has been, but now is no longer. The fairies of Beqanna have blessed her; she will be eternally indebted. It holds her, firm yet so mild – it knows her, knows her fragility and innocence, cherishing it. She feels the tender lips of the shadows brush against her face, warm against the pale of her broad nose. It whispers to her, enchantingly and hauntingly beautiful, its voice resounding against the velvet of her silver and blue skin, coming to rest on the delicate flesh of her ivory muzzle. Its voice reassures her that this, in fact, her powers returned to her and the realization causes her to sink slightly into the entity that surrounds her, the storm grey of her eyes searching for any hint of visibility but finding none.
“Is tonight all I have with you, shadow?” she asks quietly, her voice gentle as she whispers into nothingness, the soft lines of her face bending to form a small frown. “You’ve only just returned to me.”
Her lips wander, as if they could find something solid to press against, though she knew that the twist and turn of the shadows would escape from her touch. Instead, it finds her, the force beneath the soft skin of her ear pressing against her like a gentle kiss; it was as if the darkness remembers her. It turns her, so delicately and so carefully, as if not to break the spell that it had cast over her. The shadows have returned to their keeper, vibrant with life – more so than she remembers before the Reckoning. It is almost as if the shadows she once knew so well have now come back as a gift to her, piecing themselves together to form a being – an entity – that sings to her very soul. It has a voice, it has a pulse, and it has her.
Shadow, it repeats to her, with a voice as rich and smooth as the darkness that consumes her. So very alone, she has been, but now is no longer. The fairies of Beqanna have blessed her; she will be eternally indebted. It holds her, firm yet so mild – it knows her, knows her fragility and innocence, cherishing it. She feels the tender lips of the shadows brush against her face, warm against the pale of her broad nose. It whispers to her, enchantingly and hauntingly beautiful, its voice resounding against the velvet of her silver and blue skin, coming to rest on the delicate flesh of her ivory muzzle. Its voice reassures her that this, in fact, her powers returned to her and the realization causes her to sink slightly into the entity that surrounds her, the storm grey of her eyes searching for any hint of visibility but finding none.
“Is tonight all I have with you, shadow?” she asks quietly, her voice gentle as she whispers into nothingness, the soft lines of her face bending to form a small frown. “You’ve only just returned to me.”