Ankyra Sound [m] Our Lady of the Underground

Illuminated by milky moonlight, a figure appeared and through the mist of tears she saw the spectre of a wolf who had once tugged at her heartstrings. She inhaled deeply and blinked. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and while her vision cleared she did not believe for one moment that Swordfish was actually there. His image was vivid, and yet in the spell of darkness, ethereal; and she found it easier to forgive the idea of him, than to forgive him for leaving. 

A dream, she thought; a good dream. Deliciously real, so vivid she thought she could taste the brine on the air. A dream, she told herself- and if it was her dream, then she could have what she wanted- seek what her heart, soul, and body desired with no reservations. She shoulder the bridle of reality aside, and fully embraced her escapism. 

To Swordfish- to the illusion of him, sombre as he might have looked- she sung her siren song, her voice lifting like an answered prayer. She rose from the sand and stepped daintily past the skeletal driftwood, the real, shimmering lavender of her gaze warm and pleading.