the air is cold, the night is long
I feel like I might fade into the dawn
Fade until I'm gone
I feel like I might fade into the dawn
Fade until I'm gone
He doesn’t see the boy in the shadows, for his dark frame is just another invention of his mind, played out by the blurry vignette on the edges of his vision. He doesn’t see the boy in the shadows, for he looks only down at his reflection, choppy and misshapen on the surface of the river as it rushes along heedless of the life clinging to its banks. He is a ghost in the night, coat shimmering slightly under the touch of moonlight, white shock of hair hanging against his neck. Eyes, silver and pale as a star, staring on, and on, and on.
A noise, a voice, sounds quietly from nearby. Grey’s ears flick to catch the sound and he wonders what beast has come to claim him. But when he lifts his head, eyes peering past the makeshift shadows in his sight, he sees a boy. Oh, but how he blends into the darkness except for bright vermilion eyes, such that even still looking upon him something in the unicorn thinks he does not exist. He blinks, and frowns, and draws a little closer. His hooves scrape against the stone, resounding through the silent forest around them.
“Not a beast of the night, then,” his voice is gruff and chilled like the touch of his skin. The boy comes into view when a breeze shifts the canopy above, dappling his very corporeal figure in moonlight. Why was a child wandering around a forest at night by himself? Surely Grey is not concerned with his own well being. He had called to death once, and death had not come. Not entirely. Not before a light had stepped out of the sky and filled him with life. Returning him to a life he had not wanted.
But this boy? Surely in any world there are things that roam the night and threaten someone so young. “Where is it that you belong?” as though he has a hope of returning him. As though he would have any idea of where that place might be. Grey did not even know where it is that he belongs. Not any longer. Perhaps he had hoped it was on a mountain top, somewhere far from here, with a god made of quiet strength and undeserving amounts of love. Now he is not so sure.
@Ulysses
