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04-20-2013, 10:40 AM
Midas
I hadn’t entered these forests in a few weeks, to which I was making up for by exploring the familiar timbers tonight. We (and by ‘we’ I meant my homeland) always sought to increase our numbers by recruiting those with strong hearts. The threshold was often the best place to find sturdy warriors, kind healers, and various other ramble that would prove useful in boasting our numbers. Night had filtered in, no moon god was on high to guide my steps—but it was no matter. I knew these forests like my wings. Each obstacle was seen or felt long before it became a problem. With only the faint twinkling of stars to light the way, I began to wonder if most possible recruits would be bedded down for the evening. After a few hours it became highly unlikely I would find anyone shuffling through the dark. Quietly I turned toward the desert, knowing that it lay just beyond the trees and meadow— ivory wings started to unfurl. They didn’t make it halfway when suddenly I noticed out of the corner of my vision an outline standing between the pines; her foreign scent wavered toward me. Its taste a quiet testimony of possibilities. Slowly my feathers retracted, while feet shuffled me under the brush toward the figure that was covered in shadow, “Good evening malady.” your dying love is a rose I have buried somewhere close to you
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