Wheeling Gull Isle [BOO!] stage 5: acceptance

The moon was full as it carried stolen light down across the waves. The sea was quiet; barely a breeze stirred at the grasses growing patchwork along the edge of the island. The trees stood imperious as always. Those that lived upon the island were most likely asleep at this late hour - the witching hour - and as the night flowed ever onward, a curious luminous gleaming came to possess the waves.

As they swept in, curling, reaching, they shimmered and glowed. By the fourth or fifth wave, they touched upon the sand and sped towards a silvered man upon the shore; he stood there looking out at the endless ocean, and turned to look bright-eyed and whole upon a pale, spectral woman beside him.

No pain, no confusion. Only love.

With a smile, Titmouse rests his head upon her shoulder, murmuring, @Maegi.