"The sun? Oh, it sails the sky in a gilded chariot, laughing at the shadows it cannot chase away."
- whispered the raven to the reluctant moon.
"A day without irony? Impossible, dear heart, for sarcasm is the armor of the dazed and wandering."
- a voice echoed from behind the velvet curtain of midnight.
"Do the stars feel their own cold touch, sanguine and relentless?" she mused, her eyes reflecting galaxies not seen but known.
Curious about other realms? Wander further: Dusk Delirium | Stars Scholarship