This Glancing Life Is Like A Morning Star

The wintry sun is the brightness of the day, taking centre stage as the blooms of the summertime become a part of the soil. The sunshine and cold, the sparkle and the ice, somehow warm even when the north wind bites. The river she was accustomed with appears still, yet she flows under the thinnest of ice, awaiting the gentle touch of the sun. Though the air bares only the coldness and the ground is frozen once more, they glitter with the gift of each nascent ray. It is as if the Gods above ensured there would be hope even on the deepest and most wintry of days, asking them to see the sparks that remain even when the world is frozen.

It is one days like this the autumn Goddess clenches her jaws tighter, and along with her servant, Alphonse, offer all their strenght while they drag the unfamiliar male by the vines. They found him with a massive and, from what the babe could tell, serious wound around his throat area and, though the bleeding has stopped considerably, the leaves she tied around his throat, along with the ointment, where still drenched in the vital, crimson liquid. Your Excellency.came to rough, baritones of the caracal. To say he was not accoustomed with such harsh weather was an understatement. He loathed it. We are carrying a corpse. he continued, taking another glance at the male before he stopped in his tracks.

The babe halted as the veins were pulled from her jaws due to the man sudden motion. What do you suggest? We cannot leave him here. her vocals were as melodious as ever but they contained a dark undetone to them, edgy and exhaustation leaked within a few syllables as she panted; chest raising and falling with each life giving breath, they came a long way.