purestflesh:

❝The cloud, the stillness that must part The darling
  of my life from me; and then to thank god from my
  heart, to thank him well and fervently.❞

    _{The darling s a i n t, the angel who wept lonely in the comfort
of weeping hollow trees, and mahogany sunset    Lay on bedded
grave. Using her soft angelic voice to mutter Anne Bronte poems
under her breath, that ironically echoed in a cemetery filled with
rotting corpses. Their granite graves were the only sign that they                                     were there. She liked this place, the peacefulness of silence. Nothing
compared to a rushing city, Just the sound of rustling crisp leaves.}

  _{She is at most completely fine with being lonely,
especially when it’s so beautiful and silent. Like a black and 
white movie, but this evening someone strolls along, and yes
she will jump to her little feet, and watch you approach
her resting place. She’ll scan over your speckled face, and                                                       call you by your name, because this Angel knows you! she knows
everyone. For she is in fact, an angel.} 

                                   _{❝Hello Cathal.                                                                                                                am I in your way?❞}

                _{Every day was an anniversary of some sort – Whether it be life, or death. For one who lived so long, knew so many, the idea that each passing day held the memory of not even one but multiple people was not one to be easily dismissed. Today marked one such day; A close family relative. A little girl, barely over fourteen, with the whole world in her hands.} 

                                _{– Died in a car crash, and was the only one dead in a collective of six.} 

                _{Of course the immortal would visit her grave, an excessively large bouquet of various types of lilies. Too many for Cathal to name – He was never the botanist, any how. Tomatoes and potatoes were all he knew, as far as that subject went. And, of course the immortal would make sure he had a few memorabilia for the grave to have. Cathal wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural, but after living nearly six hundred and eighty four years?} 

                        _{He wasn’t one to doubt it anymore.} 

                _{The girl who had been there, a girl who was most definitely not the intended recipient of the bouquet, had confused the immortal. His brows furrowed at her question, and chapped lips open slightly to reply – With a series of scoldings, with a demand that the other get off his relative’s grave bed? With a stammered hello, perhaps, or a confused greeting?} 

                _{Rather –}

                                        _{“ – I’m sorry, have we met before?”}

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