Ocean's Breath Plateau just got to see me through another day

there was a peace to the process of dying.

for many moments over his lifetime, he'd assumed his number was up. whether quickly in combat or misadventure, or slowly by pestilent fever. . . yet, each time, he had endured. alive. relatively whole.

this past year had felt more like a sunset over the great waters of the west, and the days to come the last vestiges of glittering light upon the waves. he watched it now, sitting quietly on the beach, the darkness coming gradually over his still form. 

it was a misty evening; he could have been a ghost, contemplative as he was among the swirling fog.

he would not see the stars tonight, nor perhaps again, unless the persistent winter storms broke soon and sent the clouds astray. but he'd seen stars aplenty and knew their shapes well. they were up there, regardless of perception.

it was pleasant enough with just the tides to keep him company—and perhaps someone or another would join him here, too.