Remasked, reventure

The smell of new leather permeates the warm, heavy air. Dusk is starting to settle across the horizon, casting an orange glow through the voiled windows. She pulls on her knee high boots; they creak as she pushes her delicate feet into the toes, and zips them up tight. It felt good to be back in costume, and new boots always gave her a sense of adventure; excitement hung in the air.  Finishing touches now only remained, black leather eye mask, tied prettily behind her head, and long leather gloves that perfectly highlighted her alabaster skin. She flexed her fingers, slicked on a quick coat of red lipstick, pulled aside the nets at the window and sprang up onto the ledge, nimble as she ever was. Here she crouched, poised, looking out across the city skyline, as a gentle breeze whipped her hair around her shoulders. With a delicate smile washing over her lips, she whispered to the void below her 'it's been too long' as she proppelled herself forwards and leapt into the twilight.  The curtains billowed from the window she'd left behind, and the unkown lay ahead.

Watching for Dragons

The fair maiden sits high within her tower, defending her window from princes who would imprison her heart, and watching the skyline for the dragon that will take her to soar among the star strewn night. 

Burghers of Calais, London

A cold breeze whistled through the castle doors, ruffling the curtains and whipping her hair.  Goose bumps crept enticingly across her flesh as the stillness washed over her.  Her maniacal laugh echoed around the hall, resonant with her jubilation; this was the moment; she had won!

Encased in bronze her enemy was now frozen in time, unbreakable tears clinging to his metallic face.  His head in his hands as he accepted his fate; his true love will never be in his arms again.  The battle was over; she had won.

What Lies Beneath

Untrodden, forsaken
Fresh ground undisturbed by foot fall,
Hundreds of years untended.
Abandoned.  Forgotten.  Wild.

The elegant flight of a night owl,
Wings beating heavily
Across the blue moonlit sky.
Fresh kill, still warm grasped in the talons;
blood drips slowly to the earth.
Blood and soil unite,
the sweet scent awakening what lies beneath.
Nostrils twitch with an aroma long forgotten,
Deep yearning pulls at the flesh.

Asleep for so long, the blood lust takes hold once more.