[ It's more like falling than dancing, really - but he's gotten more practice at one than the other, over the past five years (give or take, for time spent deceased), and so maybe can be forgiven this poor excuse for a greeting.
He's more like a shadow of memory than a man, these days, anyway, insubstantial though he does seem solid enough, wrapped in the scent of earth and rain (and a distant hint of gunpowder, too) as he keeps her carefully in the circle of his arms.
The Lifestream is a dangerous place to tread alone, though, even if only along the very shore. Too eager to sweep away hearts and minds and all the other insignificant bits and parts of the people it swallows whole. Like trying to ford the most narrow, placid stream only to find it bottomless and full to the brim with ghostly, grasping currents woven so thoroughly about one another that they might as soon pull apart anything they can catch long enough to drag down toward those untold depths. ]
and then I was like hey let's do a sad thread with them
He's more like a shadow of memory than a man, these days, anyway, insubstantial though he does seem solid enough, wrapped in the scent of earth and rain (and a distant hint of gunpowder, too) as he keeps her carefully in the circle of his arms.
The Lifestream is a dangerous place to tread alone, though, even if only along the very shore. Too eager to sweep away hearts and minds and all the other insignificant bits and parts of the people it swallows whole. Like trying to ford the most narrow, placid stream only to find it bottomless and full to the brim with ghostly, grasping currents woven so thoroughly about one another that they might as soon pull apart anything they can catch long enough to drag down toward those untold depths. ]
Sorry about this, but-
(It's me or them.)
[ No bitter twist would keep him from smiling. ]
Next time, you oughta watch your step.