Swirls of white mist

Part Two : Despair

The Nightingale went into a frenzy, flinging herself continuously across the window. The Nightingales wailing was lost amongst the perseverance if the harsh pitter patter. Shifting from her distressed posture, the host suddenly manoeuvred her way across the floor and screamed in agony, "Please! I want this all to end." Complexion fading she began to grow grey, soon collapsing next to her bed and trembling against the freezing tiles.

Speckles of flakes fell against the curtain of snow that sat underneath the Nightingale, who was still fixated on the confronting sight before her. She swooped towards the ground, hovering above the snow and dug her beak into its powdery surface. Stealing one single breath of its everlasting revival, before spreading her withered wings and soaring into the air. Shuddering in fear, for she was previously unaware of her host's despair. 'I am not as wise as I once thought, for all my time was selfishly spent on my own antics,' the Nightingale thought. She flew higher than she had ever flown before, not flinching through the blizzarding chaos still around, 'her host was now content' she realised. The Nightingale's eyes flickered slightly and she let the storm perish the soul that was coincidentally chosen for them to share, since the dawn of their existence. The storm cleared, the rain departed, and there the Nightingale soared, though she didn't fly at all. A tiny body, descending from the silent sky, whistling through the absent air. And her distant companion instantaneously sprawled across the room above the depths of hell.