As dusk casts her ebony shawl across the Rivenspire sky, wearied and bloodied, I return to lodge in Shornhelm. Languidly I sink into recline, and the only sound to break my tranquillity are the fervid chirps of the birds carried into my window upon the cool evening breeze from the spring blossomed gardens below. I close my eyes and breathe… just breathe.
I hear her nocturne call, her voice a honeyed melody with which she chains me, binding me in nectarous whispers. I see her now in my mind, her coltish half-smile, her eternal eyes vanquishing my will; and with every trembling breath my gravity tumbles away and I submerge deeper into sweet rapture. Shepherded now by her narcotic whispers under that blissful veil, sinking into moonlit pools of a lucid dream, down into the depths of a saccharine realm where there is only she.
Too soon I awaken, and as I lay tamed in fettered muse, her aria still warming my hazy mind, the only sound to break my tranquillity are the fervid chirps of the birds carried into my window upon the cool evening breeze.
And it is in those songs of the birds that I perceived my inescapable fate. For just as they are compelled to answer nature’s call and return to these spring gardens year upon year, I find I am now compelled to answer her call and night upon night return to her ethereal embrace.
it just is, and I just am… forevermore hers.