His whispers spoke to her in delicate drops, like water filling the recesses of her mind. Echoes of things half remembered, half heard. She listened in the deepest musings of slumber, his voice an ethereal song only her essence recalled. He reached for her in the soft flickers of candlelight, like shadows scintillating and surrounding the periphery of her perception. A Dream dancing on the borderland of sight and reveries; unseen, unfelt, yet impossible to disregard. She felt his presence as sweetly as the night caressing her cheek and as peacefully as the indigo-ebon shifting tides rocking the ocean of her consciousness.
Fleeting was his song, yet every night he sang as the galleon of restful musings sojourned across the nodding skies; his voice coaxing her into a realm of peaceful tantalization. Ephemeral bliss painted in sighs and smiles; in the tenderest touch of his resplendent wings; in the feather-light brush of his lips upon rose-leaf complexion. Cajoling, persuading, entreating her to follow him into The Nevermore.
Nevermore. His Realm where all once held as treasure had slipped into forgotten lore. His realm where he lingered, alone, trapped, waiting for the essence of one he had lost to be reborn to him and return into his embrace. His realm, fallow and barren, without her.
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