Noctisardor Bypass with the moon i run

Gone. 
The word was harsh on its context, but softened only by Mahler’s disappointment. Argent’s studious gaze allowed reprieve for the man as it darted away, his tail giving an idle flick in thought.

He found he did not feel disappointed. Stigmata remained a story for him—his mother having told all of her children of their fast and furious love, of the man’a ambition which had likely been the reason for his demise. 

It’s the way of life, he murmured quietly, looking back once more to the stalwart man. Constant change, he continued, as if that offered any insight to what he had meant. He hadn’t met anyone yet in his life that had remained in one place and pack. Was there such a creature?