@exterminii
Burning crimson, the sun kisses the ocean's horizon. The breeze carries sweet notes of kettle corn and fried dough, swept across the sand from the distant boardwalk. At this late hour, the beach is nearly deserted, quiet apart from the chatter and screams of excitement from the amusement park that carry across the calm water.
And then, a note, a string plucked, music where it wasn't there before. The sunset gleams blood-red on the face of the Lute as Octavo approaches the man in white. He hadn't planned it to mean anything, but he wears black himself, the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his locket resting on his sternum, its eye the same color as the sun.
"Lovely sight, isn't it?" he asks as he approaches. "Nothing like a summer sunset."
