The cold tiles having been exposed to the air from outside over the vacant-house months, had gathered a white glossy dew across them, making it perilous to cross to move into her kitchen.

She had spent too many days abroad sewing her webs and had become so immersed much had gone to shame. The house was filled with bugs crawling across the floor, mice in the cupboards and her hair now unkempt and knotted. She clawed at it as she observed the scuttle of pest and rodent.

Trawling through the disgrace she guided a finger across her large oakyed table top. like blade on ice it guided a straight line through the accumulated dust and slowly patterns, large and small, lined and swirled, as her finger tip danced it's own tune..


Looking outside she felt the deep pain settle upon that ashen heart that beat slowly but surely. Dalamar was close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The reeds played at his shoes as he stalked the earth, it was muddied and loose, weeds sprawled across the stone pathway, dried petals and leaves scratching across the lawn and front stairs, and cobwebs glistening in silky subtlety from the eaves as his eyes took in the abode. The abode he had tried to forget.

Some women imbed themselves in your heart and wear a crevice so deep, there is always room for them. Whether you want to let them back in, or not to, the eroded scar tissue is there beckoning them to nest. To nestle like doves, consolidated by Love and ease. Comfort like he had never known.

Against the door his shoulder rested, his breaths oddly laboured. Not heavy, but the smokey breaths that came out were shuddering, one could not deny that. She had purred in his dreams. Did she recall our passions spent? Was the candle not stripped of its wicker yet? The possibilties were many.

Stepping inside the cool air greeted him and a smile of familiarity crept across his face. He wanted to know why he was here. It kept him wary. But even still, enchanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~