pale fingers ( corpse white, more so than the ice that caresses the edges of the dank lake water ; there is no breath of LIFE that exists in this touch ) tiptoe their way across the fading beauty of a water lily as it finally concedes to the BRUTE power of winter, a small frown twisting the edges of his lips downwards. he pays no notice to the waist deep waves eddying around his body ( is there a reason to? do the dead fear drowning? ) as he cups his hands around the wilting flower, a faint sense of loss of yet another beautiful thing whisked away on the cruel breath of the north winds.
❛ Winter is finally here. . . we won’t have many visitors for a while. It’s too bad, don’t you think? I rather liked watching the children play around the woods and enjoy themselves in peace and listening to people pouring their heart’s desires out by the falls. Will you stay for long this time? I miss you often when you leave. . .”
@backahaast
