Date: 2006-09-09 09:53 pm (UTC)
Slowly, imperceptibly the shadows on the floor began to coalesce.

Growing.

The places where the paths of light and shadows of curtains met darkened. In the places where there was no light, the shadows deepened to a jet black.

Movement.

In the space of a moment, the shadows on the floor twisted, spiraling inward. The lamps did not move. The curtains did not move. Their shadows warped to a single point on the floor. A jet of black fire spurted from the stone floor into the thick, musky air of Graendal's chamber. Shadows expanded like blood from a wound across the floor.

A sound as of a rushing wind.

The fire was thrown back, and the shadows flung like water as Ishamael threw back his cape from over his arm. A grim, and determined look on his face. Inverted weaves held the massive aura of might and awe tightly around his body. A snug shirt and trousers of the deepest black were nearly hidden by the voluminous black cape, only the tips of his black leather boots were visible.

The slightest glint of white teeth.
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January 2008

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