A lone figure stood on the top of a high cliff, the time unknown, though the sky was as dark as the raven's feathers. The only light shining down from high above.

He delicately lifted the chain around his neck up and over his head to rest in the palm of his hand. A silver cross lay there, radiant in the light of the moon. The sky was clear, the crisp bite of the air blowing over the lone figure, hair whipping across his face. Lips curled towards the sky only slightly.

His head tilted slightly, gazing at the perfect symbol in his hands. Pale fingers closed around the precious object, lips dipping forward to caress it in a kiss.

Silver was lowered and pressed against a caved chest, a tightened grip the only warning. The last farewell rolled down his face as liquid crystal, and flung to the wind with the desired object.

It flew high, soaring across the sky and into the air, it's last glimmer dissipating as it fell somewhere unknown to the figure. The figure lifted with the burden.

Now, hands that cradled cold metal met warmth. Another pair curled around the first, curled lips softening to a real smile. Any trace of the promise had been washed away with the cold wind, replaced with the companionship of another.

Bodies tangled together, breathing heavy with sleep, fingers laced. Both had smiles, soft but so beautiful.