She sat at her desk, tranquille, staring out the window. The quiet night was facing her, humming star glitters lights thought the silent countryside and the little shy fireflies above. An unfinished line was waiting for her under her pen, but she was holding a cup of tea.
She lifed the breuvage to her lips and took a sip, thinking about the next devloppement in the story she was uncovering with her eyes lost in the night in front of her. She didn't get the light footsteps behind her until an elegant hand brushed her bare shoulder.
"Why must you stay away from me this long?" Whispered a low, smooth voice. "Only in the night can we come together, and yet, you stay with this piece of paper and this pen."
She looked up in his crimson eyes and smiled gently as the sole response.
"Does my craving amuse you?" Asked the Shadow.
"No..." She looked in front of her and took a distracted sip from her cup. "You amuse me in many ways, but nothing I can't laugh about with you."
"So why do you deny me so? What lover can you find in a sheet of paper?"
"I found you in a sheet of paper," she replied. She lifted and arm and tried to capture him, but her hold came back empty. Again. She sighted and got up.
It was no use.
She got up from her desk and walked to her cabinet. She opened it and pulled a few old notebooks. She was a writer, a writer with a cursed story haunting her, a story she would never dare to finish... and yet it came to her, night after night, after the busy day was gone and only the stillness of the night remained for it to roam.
She never opened the notebooks. If she did, she knew that a being more powerful then her would take over and make her kneel in front of it.
She lightly glazed the cover of the first notebook with her nails.
"One day... I will be ready for you," she whispered to the story.
"I will be waiting," echoed a dark voice.