Otter Creek Hard on yourself

serpentine creek marshals hale and sepulchral tundrian remains ever vigilant marionette to his own vagrancies. occasional otter sails indolent upon its back within languid currents. polar gaze espies minutely as frosted ground gives way to each step towards the unseelie king makes. what awaits him at the zion of this path; a dwelling crux.
further from the echelons of rusalka than the nomad’s been upon assent into their ranks, he revels in the taunt ebb and flow of sinews; the acridity of wetrock of mountainous air as it breaches his lungs, giving chase to the salty tang of seabrine.

the tundrian does not lament in designation —

footfalls of another command he pay heed; featherlight, diminutive against the imperial march of his own.
a hairsbreadth of a moment passes; a sound near careens from lips. pallid; feathered with pink blush the sylph is, from breadth betwixt them, a harken to his late wife. drawn by invisible forces, the unseelie king draws nearer; stiff legged, half breathing —

the nymph is not andraste.

yet, she is beautiful; ethereal, even so.
hello, whisky smooth rasp shatters the arcadian hush settled contentedly betwixt them.