Author's Note: Short shortness is short!


As a man, he had travelled long and far for her. Had battled first bandits and warriors, then monsters and corpses. As a man, he had dreamt of her arms and wished for her barest smile. Not a night passed that he did not reflect upon the poetry of her hair, the ballad of her legs, the lyrics of her lips. As a man, he had longed for her with every strand of his being.

As a ghost, he held her in her arms. He breathed and smelled only the stale air of the long-buried temple. As a ghost, he could not be with her in the basest form, but found himself instead hoping for touches he could not truly feel and kisses he could never taste. They lay together in a mockery of sleep, to pass the time between challengers and potential Chosen Ones. Never did they venture beyond the chamber that housed the Essance of Chattur'gha. Unable to sleep, unable to leave, it gave him too much time to think.

At times, when they feigned sleep, and he held her in arms that she never felt the strength of, he wondered if what drove him to her hadn't been lust in the skins of love.