Sunbeam Lair bez snu mnie wyśnij

That he was mere stranger had nothing to do with the silver's silence, then;
it was in that such plain tellings had been very much so taxing in only the few instances when they had been necessary. She could not tell this male of the one who had broken a heart that still beat for the voice of him  (but might wax melancholy of how heavy a thing weighs within breast?); she could not spin tales of her own seeking that thin and fragile and glass thing that had fractured within her  (far too much of speaking, all figment-like and shut-eyed); she could not tell him how, instead, she had turned her halfsights to the wild hunt of a beast that was ever-lurking in this winterbit season  ...  but, perhaps, she could service him in the saying of it:

"Ease will be had,"  musing half-mystery,  "when a lioness lurks ze spires no longer."  Rocks once-lovely features aside, so that some evenlight might fall upon the raw addition to the shorn guise; gaze lidded languid, limpid.  "I entrust that your druids will come to know of this?"  Mere member, it seems, she;
who turns sunknived back to the ivyspined Awol and treads further into shadowed green.