As her mouth reached his neck, her lips just tickling the open wound, she felt his breath, the warmth of his breath whispering in her ear, and paused. The ennui she’d known atop her tower struck again, a pang as deep as the burgundy of the burning sun’s descent, and its weight felt like stones in her stomach. She stood up, her eyes peering down at the nearly dead man.
Here too, something would pass, was passing where she was barred.
Her hand, she found, was on his chest, slowly traveling the ridges of his ribs with a gentle stroke.
Tale Told 