// grey skies will chase the light away // any

[Engelsfors]

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings The way the stillness of the night unknit each taut sinew, like strung bow strings, loose and flaccid. My gold skin ripples softly, the damn autumn flies as damning now as they were in summer. My skin twitches, shivers against them, as well as the spindles of pine that fall from the Giants above. Autumn was one of my favourite seasons. It was deliciously cool, the earth moist beneath well worn hooves, and the air had that electric zing, winter was promised yet summer was far behind. The colours, they made my memories brighter. Some of them stronger, unnerving me slightly. Watching them play out like a silent black and white movie, it made my eyes twitch, my facial muscles taut. Some memories were like secrets, they were never meant to surface. My masquerade is free tonight; on my own I show no pretence. I am Engelsfors, the fallen, the angel with the demoness grin. A seductress with the morals of a princess. I contradicted myself in so many ways. I'm sure if I were to look deeper at my reflection it would be truly as murky as the pond waters depth. An ear catches the crunch, the crash of bark. Rotating left, then right. I crane my head, eyes drinking in the dark landscape. The pale slithers of light brightening parts but shadowing others. If were not wolves, I had heard their lonely howl earlier this evening and they were not close by. This was something else, no, this was someone else. My nostrils flutter, exposing the pink innards, I inhale deeply. Pine and earth, dank and dark. The Chamber had its own perfume, rich and pungent. I knew already that whoever was having an argument with the trees had spent a little time here already. The pine seemed to have a way of knitting in with everyone's scent. I step further out, turning around in s graceful pirouette. Long, willowy legs shifting my lofty frame. I extend my neck, threads of ghostly white dance like feathers in the autumn breeze. My cobalt gaze watches, waits. Tail flickering behind me. I waited, watched like a ghostly sentinel until finally something came into view. Twigs and needles adorned him. A mess of hair and woodland. I breathed him in. Rugged and smooth, well worn like leather and rich like the moist earth underfoot. I step closer, long strides consuming the ground. I am bold as the brassiest of birds, and slip easily into my many facades. Beautiful as the mysterious moon hanging in the sky, and equally unattainable, I stride closer. I watch him, scrutinise him with a keen eye. Every inch of him mentally stored, his scent captured and held in a pristine glass jar. I tilt my crown to the right, to the left, wisps of pale forelock overshadowing one of my eyes. 'The night hasn't faired well for you.' my tone is light, sweet rose petals falling at the feet of many, but with the undertones of the sharp thorns in my haunting smile. 'The trees... A burden as well as a safety measure.' I turn a little on my forehand, shifting closer, azure eyes kept upon his. I am neither condescending nor light witted, I simply spoke with a haunting smile, a little tweak on my lips that broadens ever so slightly. 'Engelsfors. I am Engelsfors. And you?' one for little words, but the pleasure of a lady's smile, however brief, makes up for drilling sentences of pointlessness. I waver closer, sidestepping here, a little quiver of my tail there. I point to his side with my velveteen muzzle. 'Having arguments with trees.' I laugh, small, light. Like a dying birds last little cluck of breath. I shake my own mane, pine needles and thorns loosening and falling to my feet. I can relate to a degree. Being taller than most, was quite burdensome in a land build full with cast bark and boughs. even the angels start to fall