Honeyed Pasture She just sleeps through the night

trade: spiritualist

okay.

and he would walk alongside her, silently, until they reached the treeline. when they did, he would tell her 'goodnight,' give her a polite dip of his head, and turn away.

the moonlight was something he relished within. he only wished that she could see it the same way, rather being tormented by her past, and the lies that she had surely been told.

a twinge of sympathy would pang within his chest.

but the night was still young. it mustn't be wasted.

fade here? <3