Achaean News
They Called Her Vespertine
Written by: Umbra Nadryne de Valois, Moonlight Weaver
Date: Saturday, March 28th, 2015
Addressed to: Everyone
They Called Her Vespertine:
Light fell upon her sun-petaled lips and yet she was thirstier than ever; thirsty as the moth for its death and sapped of vigor. This is why she sighed, whispery pale, when shadow fell, the darkness stealing all light as a thief pockets a gilded round of coin. Stamped by darkness, sun-petals waned to the waxy blue of rainclouds; bruised and ripe and parting to admit the soundless hungers of a thousand flowers.
Vespertine, they called her.
Miraculous and wonderful how blossomed she, in the night. When the moon eclipsed the earth and nocturne murmured of decay's beast prowling the whip-tailed willow trees, she caressed velvet blackness with her sisters, a choir in marrow-white beauty strung over the mountains round ribands of choking, green spite.
Penned by my hand on the 15th of Sarapin, in the year 680 AF.
They Called Her Vespertine
Written by: Umbra Nadryne de Valois, Moonlight Weaver
Date: Saturday, March 28th, 2015
Addressed to: Everyone
They Called Her Vespertine:
Light fell upon her sun-petaled lips and yet she was thirstier than ever; thirsty as the moth for its death and sapped of vigor. This is why she sighed, whispery pale, when shadow fell, the darkness stealing all light as a thief pockets a gilded round of coin. Stamped by darkness, sun-petals waned to the waxy blue of rainclouds; bruised and ripe and parting to admit the soundless hungers of a thousand flowers.
Vespertine, they called her.
Miraculous and wonderful how blossomed she, in the night. When the moon eclipsed the earth and nocturne murmured of decay's beast prowling the whip-tailed willow trees, she caressed velvet blackness with her sisters, a choir in marrow-white beauty strung over the mountains round ribands of choking, green spite.
Penned by my hand on the 15th of Sarapin, in the year 680 AF.