Upon them now is the evening hour, with weary forms soon to make their travel to sleep itself. Faces fresh no more, eyes bleared and energy spent, the Earth-born and the non-human alike take that journey. To somnolence, to dreams, to tranquil air.
To tire with such ease is not of his trait, however; such things are borne not of his heritage. Yet, this journey he still makes, in a parting from his seat. For meditation, and the stillness it brings. Through sterile air, does he indeed now detect something; a scent, earthy and familiar, arousing his nostrils like a touch to the skin.
She, in a glide through his aura like the smoke of an apparition. She, the very one whom he courts, is the form to which the aroma is borne. Wafting and titillating it is, this scent that brings with it visages into his trained conscious. Thoughts unravelling and drifting, of passions wrought and passions kindled. Of breaths heated and mouths locked. Of bodies joined, disrobed and in whetted undulation. Flowing and ebbing with the making of love in all its nude animations. Oh so primal and oh so fervent. Oh...
Ah, but the idiom of time and place and its apt usage, how ageless this is, seems now to reign his thoughts. Hasty, in a glance he makes certain none may pay heed to his mind's wonderings. Illogical, illogical, illogical, his mind offers. Possessed are no such gifts within the souls here, yet he surveys them still. Illogical.
Yes, those thoughts, how lingering are they in his mind's eye, luring him unto their mirage, tempting a rise from below. Nay, too soon is the moment, and his lids veil dark irises to quiet the visage. To preserve for moments made ripe, and for she to whom his night will soon be shared. She, and that aroma enchanting.
END
