Dawnlark Plains seasons

he lost her. he lost the sea.

he lost her.

his wandering was uncoordinated, haphazard at best. he was not old but he felt it in that moment. too old to keep doing this endless cycle.

the scent of many lingered on the breeze beyond the plains.

his wandering began to herd him towards it.

Could not resist <3

What the shadowman followed, she did not know. What Manea knew was that she followed him.

Not a hunt so much as a haunting; she was no huntress, no, only a ghost. Other; just beyond the glass, always lingering but never touching. Eventually she would tire of watching this one, too. Eventually she would find somewhere else to seek warmth.

She wasn't sure why she still searched. She knew she would never find it.

eeee

it was not a long shadow that loomed over him.

it was a light, but not one from the sun. not one that would guide him to some heaven or salvation. one that blinded and haunted.

he wanted distance between them. not physical, but emotional. mentally. he did not know her, she had not spoke, and already he wedged a wall between them.

he could not disappoint another one. he could not feed into his failures.

blue eyes considered her with a long and wary look.

Would he have felt warm in her arms? Or would she feel nothing but the cold even then?

She drifted as if drawn in by the thought, steps trailing closer. No sound from her then but her footsteps — and perhaps, if he listened very closely, the faint rhythm of a faded heart.

Someone loved me, once.

They called me Blueberry.

No one had called her that in such a long time.

Closer then — and Manea idled past him as if he wasn't there at all. Only a brief beckoning glance over her shoulder showed that she saw him. Yet it was clear she expected him to follow; something older than themselves, perhaps, something written into their blood though they might never know it. Pieces of a puzzle waiting to fall into their place.

Her breath caught.

he could not, he should not.

he was moving before he knew it. where was she going? she did not ask him to lead her somewhere, to take her to a place he had not yet seen. he mourned in the selfish way of man and in this woman was a ghost for him to tend.

could a shadow disappoint a ghost? could a ghost disappoint a shadow?

his pace was casual in its speed, but his posture a slinking stalk after her.

Hope you don't mind the short thread, gonna try something experimental for these two <3

Where was she going?

A shadow flitting after a ghost, silent save the quiet footfalls that reminded her this was real; where could they possibly go?

She knew.

She would show him.

i will never mind feel free to close here and PP him if needed!

he no longer hunted the scent of the clustered ones beyond the plains.

he only knew her scent now.

her pale figure was the north star in his shadowed life. for now he would follow it as a compass, to see where she could lead him.