Wheeling Gull Isle sacrament

she was spellbound.

be it the heavenly artistry around them or the charm of a gentleman, the sprite was wholly enraptured.

suddenly a world of black and white saw a splash of color, and she desperately, feverishly wished for more. like an addict to their drug, a moth to a flame, she craved more. she desired more.

she stood still then, time frozen as he turned to face her. she sought to drown in the molten gold of his gaze. there was a warmth there she'd not felt before, an electricity.

she took a breath, and then a step. any approval he may have searched for was given in the silence of her footsteps. close, closer still.

she'd not draw near enough to touch, but to feel. to feel this affection, this wordless intimacy.