Hushed Willows [m] Every song that I've ever loved

nimbus listened in silence, the faint whisper of the willows above framing her voice. an herb she spoke of seemed as unlikely to him as finding warmth in this barren cold. only one other could have been a greater help but he quickly pushed the thought aside. but he was too slow and so he thought of how many times he’d chased impossible things—answers, peace, places that didn’t want him—and found nothing but emptiness.

can’t say i've seen it, he admitted, his voice low and rough. the ocean, i mean. been close enough to smell it—salt on the wind, heavy and sharp. like it’s alive, watching you. he glanced at her, studying her briefly. figured i’d keep away. things that big don’t care what they take.

as the words passed his lips he could not deny the appeal of waves lapping around him, dragging him out to its watery depths. maybe then he would find peace, maybe then he could see her again.