I still remember each way you held me down and whispered to me. I still remember the taste of barbonal sweets and cliven pipettes and the thick damp heat of the southern-sky sunsets. I remember dragonsong and the look of your browngold eyes when I tangled my fist in your hair and I bit your lip enough to taste your blood. If you remember it, too, stand outside tonight, with the icewind at your left shoulder, and look to the dying sun. Look for the last flare of fire in its corona as it sets. Remember the color of my hair, spilled over the weave of your pillow, and say my name loud enough to taste it. I’ll come back to get you, my beautiful darling. I’ll come back to get you, and you’ll always be mine.
What are you looking for?