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

There he was.  The lighting had reduced the gunmetal of her gaze to a brilliant moonbeam silver, and muted the wildfire hues of her pelt but it only seemed to intensify the ermine soft pelt of her companion.  He called out to her and she opened her mouth to speak rather dumbly and found no words, instead closing the distance he had offered her.

You'll have to tell me what that means at some point, you know.  Her mind raced over his words and she missed his posessive assertion altogether — probably for the best, because Ceara was so fucking flighty.

I brought the apples.  She gestured to the fruit, some ripe, some fermented.  Should she be honest?  Probably.  But apparently if you eat enough of them, they make you feel funny.  I guess.  So maybe — I don't know.  I just wanted to keep my promise.

Shut up, oh my god.