Silverlight Terrace i won't fight the fire, i feel the rain fall down

Her imagination did not led her astray—it was her that he came for, always her. Whatever he thought and hoped to gain from their repeated encounters was negotiable at best and admittedly undecided. Maybe it was her rejection of his advances that left him to vome around again and again, like a morbid game of cat and mouse, waiting to see who would tire first: he hadn't the faintest idea of what he would have done if she one day accepted him.

So when she materialized from tall grasses and darkness, his steps ceased and a knavish smile came to his face at her inquiry. It ignited much in both spirit and heart, his head ever not entirely in control.

"You," he breathed, a call back to their initial meeting, the beginning and unravelling of all he did not quite understand. "It would seem I have missed you a time or two in my last ventures here. But I knew I would find you, or at least be found." His smile thinned as though to smolder and charm, his aim as always.