skymcn
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Wednesday, every night, dedicated her time to serenading the moon.
Strangely enough, the music that her fingers masterfully produced every time she did so, however, were not dark pieces, or grief-stricken funeral marches.
Actually, they were... Love songs.
Wordless declarations of her silent devotion for the werewolf who, under the blood moon, had saved her life all those months ago.
They were supposed to be a secret, her serenades, that is, and yet... Enid stands right in front of her, enticing blue eyes containing a thousand questions.
Quite the problem, isn't it?
Bookmarked by skymcn
06 Nov 2023