Azure Saviour | dark h.s.

forty four | 44

I'm emotional and soft and need a hug from that gif jfksdal.

Another long one, emotions still follow, but it's a soft one. 

I'd also like to say a BIG thank you for 24K+, the support and reads are very appreciate and I love you all so very much! 

S x

mas·ter·piece

Harry.

Seconds. Minutes. Uninterrupted time.

Céline and I stood together, my arms still wrapped around hers, as we stood underneath the heavy rain clouds above us. Droplets of water had begun to hit my skin, but I wasn't entirely sure from which duct they'd fallen from — the massive canopy in the sky or from the eyes of my beloved.

Her erratic breathing calmed after many moments, as I let my hands glide slowly up and down her back; I felt the tense muscles in them relax the more I did so. Both of our knees were giving weak from the emotional stress weighing down on our shoulders; and I knew it had to be soon that we'd have to leave. I needed to make sure that the love of my life was going to be comfortable for however long she wanted to be with me. It wasn't going to be soon that she could handle being alone for. My whole heart was well aware that she was stronger than me, both physically and mentally; but loss can always account for one never wanting to be left to only the company of themselves.

The temperature dropped as the nightfall made its appearance slowly. I'd noticed how the sun had set and it was remarkable. Hues of neutrals, oranges, pinks, purples, blues, each of them joining together in harmony. They all danced beautifully in the sky, slowly bidding themselves away into finishing their act for the evening. Those same colours would never make a return in the same way possible, it was a once in a lifetime show. Like the ballet or a painting, there are certain flaws, but only few notice them; whatever everyone sees is the masterpiece that has become. The breaths of the dancers vary, their movements attempting to remain identical, but only trying their absolute best. The strokes of a brush, never failing to make the exact same layer of paint on a canvas, but only executing to a bewitched manner for mesmerised eyes to see.

A production like this, hasn't been made since the snow finally made its return to the sky. Spring made its mark weeks ago, but only now revealing the starting of its seasonal beauty. Spring. A start of a new time. A start of a new era. A start of a new life. A start of a new book.

And the soft brushing from a goodbye to a hello. Two greetings meeting one another. Two words that know their devoirs, even when at times, we don't.

The farewells come from many things: an animal showing its offspring that they can live their lives on their own, a rain drop falling from the sky, a feather ruffled out of a bird's wing, temporary absence, and death.

The welcoming come from many things: a child waving to another to come play together in the sand, a meeting from one tribe to another to make truce, a caterpillar forming into a beautiful butterfly, and birth.

Each are natural things that happen in the world, things that occur daily, things that take place without our direct acknowledgement. They are things that we have to accept, whether we like them — or not.

The marvelling artwork that appeared in the atmosphere, in the azure skies that were to come again in the morn, was a creation that was a true phenomenon. It was something that made me believe that there was more to it; and that there was more to everything.

After one small kiss to the top of my beloved's head, I looked up at the sky, watching as the colours faded away slowly, a small smile made its way on my lips. One that was pure. One that was a salute. One that was a hello, and a goodbye, to those light pigments. And one meaningful one to the angel that is above, Hazel.