tanuno
Well-known member
[Tantalism]
Giselle's fall from grace 3
She stands close to the lamp near the gate to try and wring a little warmth from it. The flame was the only colour, a sigh of orange against black stone and cool spring dusk. Giselle’s breath came out in small clouds; each one felt like a confession she hadn’t yet shaped into words.
No bell. No knocker. Just the torch and the breath of wind on her body. She shifted, felt the gravel roll under her bare feet - cut and bleeding after the walk - and wished the sound would summon someone—anyone—to decide she could still leave. None came. The torch hissed; the wind answered. That seemed to be the whole conversation.
No bell. No knocker. Just the torch and the breath of wind on her body. She shifted, felt the gravel roll under her bare feet - cut and bleeding after the walk - and wished the sound would summon someone—anyone—to decide she could still leave. None came. The torch hissed; the wind answered. That seemed to be the whole conversation.