— @ressusciters ❀ sc.
The night dampens all colors. Even the usually lush green of Yggdrasil’s head-sprout appears washed with dust.
The ocean and sand look as though they’re cut from one continuous cloth. The water is dark, but the crest of its waves glow with the colors of autumn leaves. The sand is dull, but the contours left by wind, water, and many feet, faintly reflect those colors too. Where they meet, wet sand softly gleams by the wan moon, a foggy mirror of the sky.
Starkly standing apart from the scene is the woman walking across that mirror. The white of their hair shines like a beacon in the dark. Yggdrasil is distinctly reminded of some of her crew mates, the people from the moon. Feeling an inexplicable pull, Yggdrasil glides down the embankment and over the sand, drawing close. Cool blue eyes, too.
Good evening, Yggdrasil chimes in mellow tones with a shallow nod. She cants her head. Are you from the moon?