The Night Air

[Ashfalcon]

Darthalien closed the door gently behind him and stepped out into the yards. It was well past Low, but despite his practice with weaves and an afternoon of intense exercise in the Yards, he still couldn't sleep. He'd been raised to Dedicated, which seemed like a good time to follow the rules instead of breaking them, but... he was Pallid. He wanted the touch of moonlight. He wanted to move through the dark. He didn't even need that peculiar weave he'd discovered; here in early spring, with the sky clear and crisp and no leaves on the trees, the crescent moon offered light enough.

He stepped out onto the gravel path, and began tracing his way into the gardens. Theirs was a bleak sort of beauty at this time of year, but it still pleased him: the still, chilly night air; the moon and stars overhead; the faint scents of soil and plants. It's too bad I can't build a fire out here, he decided. This would be a perfect night for it. Instead, he moved steadily along, setting his feet softly to avoid breaking the silence.