Hi! So some of you might know me from my other story "Snow in October" which I sadly have no inspiration to continue. (If I do though then.. a miracle behold.)
Most of this story will just be short small chapters, I think they're called drabbles? But, not all chapters will be 100 words, some might be 500 or 600. Who knows! XD
Disclaimer: All due credit towards Rumiko Takahashi, the artist and writer, of Inuyasha. However, plot is fully mine: Roselotus.
It was a fall afternoon, the type where the sunset made the orange leaves appear even brighter, the hazy pink and yellow clashing in the sky. The last of the villagers finished up their work and went home for the day. Yet, while everyone was warm in their houses, a woman lingered a little longer outside. Unaware that her breath had turned into puffs of fog in the crisp air.
Her long raven hair slightly tinted with a creamy orange shade where the sun was shining on the side of her body. She was seated on what seemed to be a dried up well, forgotten and no longer used. Her hands were whispering above the wood in an affectionate way. The way one would want to touch their long lost lover.
If anyone saw her, they would not know what she did along side the well to not realize that time was passing. The shade of orange on her hair turned to a gentle hue of silver, from the moon shining down on her. The tips of her hand a shiver of pink from the chill in the air. Along with the blush of rose on her cheeks, her eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly.
Sighing, she shifted a little, glancing away from the well into the darkness.
"And here you are again after saying you wouldn't come back." She said, her voice as soft as the first snow in the silence of the night.
Nothing moved, until someone did in the direction she was looking at.
"I never said I wouldn't come back." The figure replied back, revealing himself. His silver hair danced like silk in the brief wind. His golden eyes caught her breath.
She smiled, breathlessly. "Indeed, if I recall, you didn't say anything that night."
They fell into a comfortable tranquility.
Neither one knew one another, nor were they old acquaintances. All she knew was that she would come here every friday night, and he would eventually show up, just for them to sit in silence. The wind and trees, birds and squirrels; seemed to talk in their stead.