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Even moonlight cannot pierce through the deep mist shrouding the graveyard. A single, cold flame illuminates a memorized epitaph.
A heartbeat crosses the threshold of his guarding grounds.
He sinks further into the shadows. It's no use. The foreigner approaches without surprise on his rugged features. (Steady; fearless. Perhaps foolish.)
Their gazes lock.
He picks up the mild scent wafting from the tokens of respect in the other man's arms, their petals cradled by the midnight whispers.
Intrigue never bloomed so quickly within the Lightkeepeer.
(It crawls around his insides. Long has it been since he last felt its hold.)