#kihu

Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective, including:

Their looks

Their personality

And who they are to my muse

+ Etc!

The writing was tucked into the empty bottle and set free to sail along Pandaria's coast. A second bottle to join the first that Serenis assumed had never met it's intended. She watched as it was caught by a drift and sailed from her sight, left wondering if this time it might find its mark.

Your words cast a spell on me.

Transfix me to the idea of you.

Drawn in like the inevitable tide.

I remain, like a shell made empty.

In a cove where lost thought collects.

I dream too many dreams of you.

But dreams are fickle and unsound.

Do you fear me to know your truth?

I fear I may drown in your mystery.

So come to me, allow me breath.

Save me with the sight of you.

Hey guys, go support this guy’s stream he’s one of my favorite artists and his work is amazing!

[ A previous chapter, here ]

Serenas had fought the curling of the note she had painstakingly pried from the bottle, her lips moving silently as she took in the handwriting once more, letting it register that it had been written for her. Her eyes drifted back to the glass bottle that held it with a few blinks.

It was a silly strain of thought, to think someone had specifically written a letter for her, left it for her to find. Her brother had once left 'mysterious bottles' on the Anchorage's sandy shore for her to find as a child because he knew it delighted her, and he'd broken her little heart when the little game had ended, age and hard logic leading Quelios to spoil the secret that it had all been a trick. Silly as it had been to hold a grudge, she had spent a year saying very little to him, only acknowledging the tiresome trade of written notes if he wished her to acknowledge him at all, just to be spiteful.

But she had grown from those wistful wishes, though she certainly never lost her love for the shorelines. And it was a new shoreline. She had left her brother behind as well as that old life full of sensibility and squandered dreams.

The bottle had been left for her knowingly, on the very spot of pourous rock she liked to claim at the Mist's shore, where the sun's setting was all hers. New shorelines, new fascination. Carefully tearing a blank page from her journal, Serra wrote her words with a thoughtful bite of the lip.

To my watcher:

I could no more stay away from the ocean shore than I could stop the sun from setting on it, I hope you will forgive me. Written word is as good as the spoken, so please consider yourself invited to introduce yourself further. I dearly wish to know who watches.

Rolling up the little letter as soon as it dried, Serenas tucked it into the bottle she'd been given, aiming to leave it for the mysterious eyes on the shoreline, an offering on the same porous stone it had been left at.

And from then on Serra would visit the shore at near sunset every other day, hoping a new letter could be found.

Or more...