Restless churning maelstrom, a hidden flickering torch, puddl’d steely resolve. Brightly you falter, and bravely you fight for an unknown cause. Shadow hiding in the light, missing opportunity by a fathom, bides its time for the perfect arbiter of appeal and design. The shadow waits no longer, and you fall.
Sinking slowly into your delicious delerium, you awaken to muddy hazel eyes that tell your past, present, and all that you want to know. The veins pop from your skin in the struggle to escape from their silken prison, but one word falls and you cease to exist. A gentle tug, and liquid envelopes you into safety, velvet rope, and you eagerly curl around the heat. Sounds not entirely audible filter through your hazy mind, perfumed with delicate strands folding, winding among long fingers, molding to your body. Your first brush with death; first of so many. Such a dear little death! You ache for it no longer.