Silverlight Terrace my only friend was the man on the moon, and even sometimes he would go away too.

 

Forward dated probably uhh like a day or two, idk.  What are timelines?

She had told @Siarut to meet her closer to home next time they met, but she would have crossed the mountain twice to experience the rush of blood she felt every time the Northerner touched her.  She remembered the last time she saw him, how the angled forms of her body felt tucked against his dense pelt and how she had wanted more but had fallen asleep instead and maybe if — oh, she was getting a little ahead of herself.

She had brought as many apples as she could carry with her; she had fashioned a makeshift satchel out of the broadest leaves she could find and wrapped a peck of apples for them to share.  Perhaps it was manipulative, but she wanted to get drunk off of the fermented fruit.  After watching Screech, she wanted to experience it herself — safely, away from the prying eyes of the Redhawks — and with one of the handful of men who had caught her eye.

Night had fallen when she arrived, the moon hung heavy in the sky.  The terrace was reduced to a palatable grayscale — the grass was flowing, silver, dreamlike.  She settled somewhere obvious and paced with quickened pulse and rising anxiety.