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It is a violence and yet a birthright to feel all the cries of the world, the mourning of the cosmos, the dark weeping of the heavens - rooted and multiplied beneath mortal, faultless flesh -SEGOVIA AMIL
𓆩♱𓆪 Nocturne
The moonlight shines between the spires of the cathedrals and the ancient houses. It pools in through the window of our abode, a spectral allure casting Leander's shadow onto the weathered wooden planks.
He stares absentmindedly through the glass panes in the late hours, his focus adrift. He is entirely immobile as though a sea of thoughts engulf his psyche, overwhelming him. He is cloaked in a profound quietness, one that is oppressive and unnerving.
Leander's back faces me as I navigate through my workshop clutter with resolute silence, each movement carefully calculated to avoid his detection. I search frantically, scanning through the items—void stone fragments, arcane prisms, screws, and gears. My gaze locks with the gleam of silver. I retrieve the dagger immediately, deftly sliding the blade into a concealed sheath within the intricate layers of my corset.
Though I may not prevail in persuading Leander to withdraw from this arrangement, I will keep watch on his behalf, remaining vigilant for any signs of danger nearby. I will follow him through the hours of the dawn.
I listen to the incessant whirring and ticking of the antique clock, and the crackling of the fireplace as I lay on the threadbare sofa. Hints of smoke mingle with aged wood and dried herbs that waft through the cramped space. Each second grows more daunting than the last, my heart thrumming a wild beat that serves as a reminder. I await anxiously for a sign of movement in Leander's direction.
However, his figure remains still, his head delicately reclined against the window, his hair veiling his eyes. He appears distantly preoccupied with the ghostly light that penetrates through.
My spirit is alive with frantic thoughts, worry consuming me most fervently. The unknown plagues me with an incurable sickness, a disease that rests in the pit of my stomach, a twisting sensation not allowing me an ounce of ease.
The black sky fades into a softer shade of navy, blushing with hints of lavender. Dark clouds hinder the view of the fading moon as an eerie stillness rests upon the haunted hour.
Leander positions himself upward, transitioning into a tall, strong stance. He lets out a swift exhale, his breath heavy, threading a hand through his ruffled brown hair.
Sensing his gaze trailing in my direction, I shut my eyes, feigning sleep. The soft creak of the floorboards resonates through the confined space, adjusting beneath his weight. The subtle sound of a door clicking into place follows.
I propel myself upright at a moments notice, an imminent sense of urgency pulling me toward the exit without the slightest form of hesitancy.
The wind susurrates, carrying a chilling breeze, caressing my skin with its featherlight touch. The shadows are alive with the fading night, they linger and dance in the alleyways before me.
