Greatwater Lake She’s betting on science

Bleached skies, darkening, yet air of warmth – the canvas above remained pellucid as the lake’s surface, those writhing, floundering rivulets as they pirouetted along a blackened, watery mirror in endless turmoil. He stared solemnly down upon the fluid veneer; glacier-born eyes leering back at him, outstaring, domineering in silent command – his own reflection, that cynical slayer of night.

The Silencer.

Canting his chin downward, obsidian lips kissed the surface sacrilegiously and parted to slip his tongue between – water to abate this fathomless thirst; quenchless. Hiemal as it slid from his jowls to his throat, snaking frigidly through the caverns of his body until finally it settled in the belly of the beast, absorbed into the unlighted flesh of the slayer. Gratifying.

Then, he inhaled—

Following a benumbed breath, scorned through obsidian nostrils and salmon tongue, conducted to him was the pungent scent of fish, and with it, a vaguely familiar individualist. Donovan, he mused in wordless rumination, before raising himself off hadean haunches and beginning to trail the fringes of the lake toward that aura of darkness. A shadow himself, pulled forward by some force of tenebrosity, a bestrewing of malevolent intrigue.