Montagues and Capulets

Time for a change in plans.

With day six of the 25 Days of Repetition… I mean Stadarooni here, I want to spice things up sooner than later. You may have noticed the lack of storytelling, and otherwise a blast to the first few weeks of analysis with some reviewing and showcasing (?) on the side as well. As those posts seem to be the most enjoyed by you guys, you shall have your unasked request. You may have also noticed the change in the website’s theme, and I hope that you enjoy it more than the last. Please provide me with any feedback on it as you wish, but otherwise, we will head straight into this dose of storytelling.


In the wind, the knight danced, or was it the night?

Either way, this was her night. Ecstasy filled the mist and pumped into her lungs with a fragrance of lavender. It coursed throughout her veins, and her eyes were like perfect white yolks that glistened in the air like marble. Men admired her, but could never come close. Woman despised her, but they could only look up in awe. Selene was the night, and her audience waited below in the fog of flamboyance.

The mist seemed to be cast over the precisely laid candles, which Selene scented with the spice of cinnamon. It was rich, and those present would feel eternal affection to her everlasting and silent song of beauty. These songs flew over every dandelion and rose, with a seductive cast on all who gazed upon Selene. Her hair was the streaks of the galaxy swirling across time, her lips were the tantalization of primal desire, and her skin was a silk woven in the sands of time.

Love was a luminous star and many thought of Selene as such. However, Selene was the night. She outshined the stars with every subtle movement, almost as effortlessly as men took to hilt. She seemed to be an emerald, but this was to them.

For Selene, she was the night. Even the stones provided a warmth in which she did not, and the night left her hollow. Her audience waited in the fog of flamboyance, yet they could not reach under all efforts. A primordial sensation lingered within her beauty, almost as if she had a fiery passion for discovering her better half. Her chariot would never reach this personification of all light which she desired. Music that filled the air with the ecstasy of romantics, bur furthermore a truth in which she craved to find.

This truth was didactic to her. Did the knight dance in the wind, or was it the night?

A horizon divided.


With that, we come to today’s close. While this is without a doubt shorter than all posts on this blog relating to storytelling, I hope the detail and many symbols put into this made it worthwhile. Tomorrow might be a return to analysis, but I hope you enjoy the next venture into storytelling very soon as well.

Adios, and farewell.


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