A stone circle to serve as a grand courtyard to the looming figure that is House Vogelstein is tucked beneath the swaying shadows. The scents of bonfires mixed with patchouli and vanilla drift through the air of the dimly lit terrace. Shadows creep across the ashen son's face as he prowls across the blue-washed stone. The moonlight is beaming down, spilling her cerulean hues. A smile gently pulls at the corners of his lips. Upward, toward the moon. He is restless. So restless now that she is gone. The house they once shared sits empty, torn to pieces from their last row. Sebastien sighs, relishing in the sensation of his warm breath splashing against his face before the cold air swims down his throat. Sebastien exits the Vogelstein estate and sets out down the familiar alleys of Denocte. The scents of vanilla and patchouli fade the further he gets away from the grand, looming estate.

Down. Down the hill and into the streets he moves. Beneath the dim light of the moon, and the twinkling stars the Night Markets were alive with nightlife. Humming and chattering were the bodies that moved through the streets so loved by citizens of Denocte. Sebastien moves through the busy summer streets. He continues on, past the entertainers, past the taverns, past the lovers whispering in the shadows. His movements are determined. Each one is like the stroke of an artist's brush upon a canvas. Decisive, and at times, soft. Until he stops. He stops and peers up at the house with tattered curtains hanging from the windows. It looks forgotten. It is forgotten. Only for now. From the street, he can see a fine layer of particulate upon the sills of the shelves.

Sebastien sighs almost wistfully as he remembers her. Remembers until he presses on. Back up into the Night Market. He pauses at a booth offering exotic dishes expertly designed by the chef. He gives a charming smile and nod to them before placing the currency atop the counter. Sebastien waits then for the man to turn back to prepare his meal.

@Ira