Dark in body, cold in heart, eyes that shine as brilliant as the North star, he draws people to him. He romances shadows and the idea of danger even when neither is present. Women fall into open lover's arms, certain they are hidden by his arrival while children cower in fear, calling for their mothers to comfort them. He is an entity in and of himself.
The royal court calls for him. They ask to honor him and although he attends their call he always departs by morning, leaving their tokens behind and taking with him their vivid imaginations. He is the night.
And if he could be embodied, he would ride tall on a dark steed in a suit of pitch black with a lance as cold as deepest winter. A knight of a different sort.
*** Daily Writing Practice ***
I am thinking that the line about his eye could be tweaked to make it better....Otherwise you know you I like it.
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