Northstar Vale running in the dark to find East of Eden

bad short post time

and through the parting of cirrus twistings of roving mist the sylph drifted forth as if summoned from thoughts that had not even reached charcoal lips. tenebrous gaze seeks to rest upon the achromatic shards of her newfound companion as silent grace guides idle steps to rest her svelte figure by her side. her heart flutters with the rush of words she sought to, no she must speak and yet in that moment the idea of breaking such tranquil silences seems like a crime in itself so asides the softest of inhales; the spectre holds her tongue. 

there is something so ethereal about the energy to shiver at her side that she finds herself more of a damned wraith than ever when subjected to such angelic auras from her undómiel. tender claws stroke whispers throughout velveteen ears as muscles shift to face sloe eyed features upon the pallid woman. softly searching, she finds herself humbly able to admit the appeal to reside under such a force is not artificial in nature. despite former misgivings at the fae's idea of strength, she bemusedly notices how the touch of her soft utterings was enough to cause the swoons of her followers and was that not enough when one had the nerfarious valitúrë prowling at her sides. 

veiled orbs cast out across the shadowed hollow before creeping back to finally let loose smoothly slithered words; "what is it that steals you from the blissful art of sleep, undómiel?"