Luminance drifted through pallid veils, piercing obsidian pitch in ethereal wisps as though fingers of pure silver, the kiss of dawn’s first light. Figure stirred, sinuous muscles contracting below ivory flesh, responding to the intimate invite of the morn. Standing almost haphazard paces towards the window were taken, gracing the sleepy air with languid motions, the first stirrings of life. Delicate material was grasped, diaphanous in quality and drifted aside so that oceanic gaze both predatory and glazed could appraise his land, his birthright. What once had been blessed with empyreal beauty now closer resembled a representation of hell, a desolate and barren panorama, devoid of life, festering and decaying in endless tides. Pools of stagnant water bubbled, each shimmering semi-cirque of jet gloss exploding to release vile stench, things lurking below the surface bobbing to partially emerge at sporadic intervals. A land torn asunder by the horrors of war, where even the land had been poisoned by the hatred of the two contenders, remaining so even after the last of his oppositions kindred long had faltered and perished. Somewhat dormant within a deep-seated sorrow and appreciation of natures beauty longed to restore even somewhat of the destruction to return Valsedor to even the meagre glory of his childhood. He seemed though not to hold prowess capable of resurrecting even a small patch of the land in which life flourished. Now though it was different, tangled ploys halted, desires captured and held so dear, naught left to torment for. Perhaps Valsedor itself better represented he, perished as he was in emotion, frugal in his whim and desires, a barren and darksome being that held no longer the noble intents of his forefathers in his bosom but instead intense hatred. Now though… now everything was different. Tiny noise caressed the air, errant murmurs, gasps with the rise and fall of ribs, slick charcoal sheets rustling as figure tossed and turned. She was back. Every wish, desire had been granted and in turn he would to her bless himself. Odd as it was as head tipped almost tender gaze grazed her form, lavishly traversing each perfect dip and curve, within him something blossoming, uncertain at first as it had been direly plumed but still tentatively searching for the light. Installed predatory grace took him to her side with silent motion, drawing covers further across dormant finger before one finger slid up along bared arm, relishing the warmth it possessed. She would wake alone again. Dust no longer greeted his every step, grandiose corridors piously swept, overbearing architecture no longer holding menacing overtones. It still was by no means welcoming, yet it did not resonate with vacuous presence, attempting to suck away ones very mind and soul. Into the environ he stepped, frigid wind cutting against his impervious figure, attempting to splice into him. Pernicious gaze drifted, sifting through familiar whereabouts, seeking for that which was unfamiliar… the change he has sensed. And there it was, optics affixed onto it in rare astonishment, not an expression often adorning his features, whether real or another strand of his perfected facade. A simple adornment, yet one that signified a change in both he and his lands. A singular crimson rose. Calloused fingertips curled about the delicate stem in wonderment, testing its reality before fragile flower delicately was removed. Absently he turned about, retreating to the inner sanctums of his abode, delicately plucking thorns from the stem. It was immediately evident, in his mind at least to whom the life belonged and as such with haste almost he made his way through the warren of corridors to return to his most intimate of spaces – his bedroom. There she lay, awaiting him, lips semi parted though begging for his kisses. Rose was lowered, silk delicately dragged across expectant lips before carefully he lowered the flower to rest upon her breast. He would wait for her this time. Figure sank into seat aside the bed, favoured book retrieved, lovingly touched as it parted to reveal satin sheets stained with the scrawl of obsidian text. He would wait.
-
Dedicated to my dear beloved.

-D.Evidevel.