they were the light of apollo.
the sunshine danced its fingertips through their golden hair and shone upon their jewelry, clinking and swaying in the wind.
the chimes rang and the world awoke, the sound of drum beats softly audible in the forest.
their white dress flowed like the pulling and pushing of the tides and their feet choreographed bare upon the concrete ground.
the harp within their hands reflected against their voice as they began, falling in soprano and rising in forte.
it batted against the old stone walls of this fallen castle and the sky lit up with hues of clementine and gold, the perfect canvas for a burning fire.
their skin was the color of the earth and it was iridescent in this sunset scene, finding a place to call home in the woods and within the nooks and crannies of old abandoned sidewalks and creeks.
the birds began to whistle in hushed tones, almost as if not wanting to speak above this illuminative being and the wolves let out a soft howl in confirmation.
the world was at once in peace between these moments of godly hours and the light of apollo had faded away as the sun rolled over and below the hills.
the nature of this was inhuman-like as it was the voice of an angel that had fell.
it was a scene as somber as it was glorious.
