Magical Mysteries | A Collection

Starlit Night

The twilight sky was painted with glistening stars. On the porch, underneath the awning, they lingered underneath the vast expanse of the darkness dotted with lights. They were comfortably sat side-by-side; Will—“William”—Blade and Perrine Saewulf.

The moon was bright, its glow soft; bathing the land in a gentle light, crickets chirped and the distant sound of hooting owls echoed. A bottle of Will’s homemade whiskey was positioned between the two, though Perrine had decided not to drink—at least one of them had to be responsible. Not that Perrine partook in drinking, anyway. He refused to do so. Tea was what had his heart.

The Nighthunter had his chin tucked within the palm of his hand, gaze upturned. His half-empty glass of lukewarm whiskey was within arms reach, yet his free hand was nowhere near; pressed firmly against the stone, the tiny lights that littered the world above mirrored within his gray eyes. That night lacked coldness, autumn’s usual chilled breeze replaced with a delicate warmth.

Will knew for certain that it was not brought on by the beauty that hung above, but by the man that rested next to him. The Nighthunter’s focus shifted, falling on the man at his side, whom was staring up at the sky. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Perrine looked mesmerized. His features were clouded over with what only could be described as a soothing peace; it was refreshing to see, especially after everything that had happened—but no one chose not to dwell on such thoughts.

Turning back to gaze up at the sky that was suspended above, slowly, Will’s right hand moved, his fingers brushing the witch’s own. His touch was tender, light. He was always as gentle as humanly possible when it came to the love of his life.

Perrine startled at the contact, head turning, but he ultimately relaxed when he noticed that it was just Will.

Will, the man who accepted him for who he was. Who had shown him nothing but kindness. The only person who managed to bring so much light into his life.

Perrine smiled softly at the Nighthunter, as he always did—and soon enough, their fingers met. Molding his hand with Will’s, the witch gave the man’s own a firm squeeze. Eye contact was broken, yet they did not separate their hands. Instead, the two men turned back and gazed up at the starlit sky, the silence that enveloped them a comfort.

It was peaceful. Serene. Perfect.