laced_like_rivers_or_like_blood

mountain, the shade now curved into sight and seemingly softened as the birth of nightfall landed to stem in his direction.

With the flight of delicate breeze all that remained, his body took to curl a handful of flesh and he began to drift again, soon part of some other story.

The waiting moon shone as a white powder in the evening, its shadows not yet visible to the naked eye.

As the light spawned its darkness, the clear water lost its mirror, only seeing the first of stars in the open headed skyline. No light had yet stretched so far into the water as to colour its life, or taint the flow.

A spirit well of quicksilver rode endlessly over the foothills, in his dreams the blood was more like gold.