The man, he sits, power in his hands, the toil of many years engrained in his body. Hardened, sinewy, the lines of his face carve out noble features that have seen many things. Faint light from the window falls gracefully across his bent form. All of the room, musty with disuse, is shadowed except for the patch of grey the man has claimed. He is deep in thought.
Around his heart, there is a ring.
This ring, translucent and glowing, cannot be seen by the human eye save for under certain occurances. Even then, only the faint purplish outline can be seen, traces of the touch of Her.
--+--
One eye pressed to the lens, she drew in a ragged breath and shifted from one aching foot to the other. Three days, and he had not yet relented. Through her spyglass could be seen his still figure bathed in moonlight, as motionless as it had been an hour ago. Her lips compressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed into two slits of amber as she contemplated her next move.
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