Ravenshook Cliffs moonglow

maaaybe @Velen?

a thick fog has settled over the land; the evening is hazy and bone-chilling, sky dimming rapidly into dark muted blues as the sun retreats. the mayfair observes the descent from his perch along the cliffs, as near to the edge as he dares, gaze tracing the first clusters of stars beginning to appear. he's perfectly still save the movement of his argent eyes, a golden sculpture left to erode by the seaside. the crashing of waves is his sole companion for now. soon, he knows, the sky will light up with a million tiny silver flames, and that familiar feeling will fill his heart. that strange sweet melancholy, that baffling mixture of nostalgia and crippling grief — like a love lost, but in the place of memories he possesses only a glaring, aching emptiness. his muzzle lifts, head tilting back, and he howls his grief into the coming night.