Whispers of Apollo

Floating high above the country, high above the clouds, there was a woman. She looked, for all intent and purposes, like a normal woman. She had beautiful golden hair that shimmered in the dazzling sunlight and her warm honey brown eyes reflected the shine all around her.

She was quite easily the most attractive woman our protagonist had ever seen. But it was her skin that drew him in. Inch after inch on display of that lush Titus wood richness. Without thought or acknowledgement he steered his vessel towards her.
Drifting closer that he ever imagined possibly, he was captivated by her and opened his mouth to call to her, when he noticed. She was sad.

He tilted his head in confusion, brows furrowed together, as drop after drop fell from her honey soaked gaze and into the clouds below her.
Her gaze flicked to his and the hand he'd stretched towards her without realising. Now, it seemed, was her turn to tilt her head. Cocking to the side like an animal. A predator watching its prey, biding it's time.

Fear lapped at our protagonist mind, like waves along a shore, momentarily before he blinked away the thoughts, that he told him self, were unnecessary, unfounded. Looking once more at the woman before him, that fear resurfaced in tidal waves crashing into him making him stagger a step or two back, as far as his little vessel could take him away from her. As, in the blink of an eye, she has appeared beside him. All that lush Titus wood skin that captivated him just inches away from his finger tips. Caught between desire and terror, our protagonist, unfortunately, froze. That cocked, predatory head of hers righted it's self as her face broke into a cruel half smile, the left corner of her mouth reaching up as her eyes narrowed. Then she moved faster than lightning and feral as thunder.

We move now, to a new protagonist, as it seems we may have lost that one.