amarebony:
The woman's voice was nothing but a gentle tune dancing along the breeze that rustled through her auburn locks, a small grin playing on tinted lips. "The night grows longer, the creatures grow stranger, yet you find yourself here." Her head tilted up to watch the clouds roll by, her tired mind a mess of fantasies that weaved a continuous web in the darkened crevices of her thoughts. Trailing her chocolate pools back to the male, she tilted her head. "Enjoying the beauty of the night?"
☥ It was her scent that gave her away—or perhaps the rightful definition would be the lack of it. The lack of blood, warm and pounding through veins with every beat of a lively heart. The lack of life. It was not as though she did not have her own scent because oh, by right she did, but it differentiated itself from those living in a way most distinct. So when her voice reached his ears he was not startled by the age within them; he was not surprised by her words and the implications within them. He merely lowered his gaze from the canopy above and let ghostly pale eyes focus in on her. “… It is something breathtaking, after all”, he answered her, indirectly giving her a yes, while his head cocked gently to the side. “You, madam?”
