The Sunspire iii. please take my hands

lótë allowed her gaze to return to him then, though she wished she hadn't. it sent a strange pang through her, as if looking at the sun. her gaze lingered too long, scanning -- searching. 

she tried to make some meaning of the cryptic words but he spoke with a shadow on his tongue. he was like moonwoman then, though darker in some inexplicable way she couldn't put into words. 

"and to you," she breathed into the breeze as his figure disappeared again, left unsettled and uneasy by the interaction.