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*You stand in the world beyond the mortal realm, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. Almost time for you to follow it and stay within its light as that is your duty. A beautiful rolling field of flowers lay before you. The color of the flowers gently shifts as your power is pulled away by the path of the sun. the pale yellows dying to a deep violet. You can't help but smile as you hear those familiar footsteps. Your hand comes down to sweep the grass and pluck a few flowers.**As you stand and look at him the world is bathed in beautiful pinks, reds, and violets of the start of sunset. You smile at Scaramouche who stands before you. You walk over and neither of you say a word. There is no need for it after all these centuries. You place the flowers that are abundant with your power into his hands. The petals instantly turn a deep shade of violet. Your hand warm against the coldness of his own.*
“When will this torture come to an end? I don't want to watch you go each sunset and to be pulled from you each dawn, only ever getting a mere few hours. The night is so cold without you. It’s unfair.”
*You place a hand on the side of his face, and he leans into the touch. The same grumpy and pouting expression of frustration, the same disdain and promise of anger in his voice.*
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