MY SOUL IS AN EMPTY CAROUSEL AT SUNSET
Rhoswen had always found the death of sunlight to be morbid and ominous. Where others admired beauty in lavender apricot skies she could only feel the familiar prickling of sad and delirious unhappiness. For what could be seen in the dark? - stars, planets, the steady orbital movement of the moon? There was nothing within the darkness that could enamour her anymore; she'd seen every notorious secret the night could offer and had been left feeling bleached - all the colour and life drained from every inch of skin, every portion of bone. Yet still she endured the onslaught of eventide, watching the circadian rhythms with an isolated virulence; knowing the crepuscular light would always come crawling across horizons vast and infinite. There was no escape in this life, only fortitude.
Even in midsummer the desert froze at nightfall, and as Rhoswen sailed across oceans of gold she began already to miss the encasing heat of a day that was leaving her far behind. She'd tried once to chase it: the sun - her chest near-breaking with the hopeless endeavour to keep up with the fading light, of course to no avail. So now instead Rhoswen pursued sunlight in her dreams, setting down her head of wild auburn curls so that she would not have to withstand the long stead of night. It had become something of a routine to visit the Oasis before turning in to her chambers; she'd traced the journey on the palm of her hand so many times she knew it now unconditionally. Tonight, however, Rhoswen found that she would not be bathing alone - the briny fragrance of a woman tempered upon her tongue, accompanied shortly by the very silhouette of Day Court's emissary. Rhos drew nearer, sand and dust clinging to the inordinately sharp curves of her avian frame, eyes of volcanic ash resting upon Seraphina as she came to a standstill.
"Great minds think alike."
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