The moon like crystal sheds watery light on wharf and river, falling in sheets upon Pelargir. Fears monkey in shadows. The eye plays tricks – what lies therein? Death? In The Bottle, darkness has holes to hide him in.
Thrasja walks alone tonight. Unwise. When the road forks blindly, she clutches Haurnja's pendant close.
Wise men stay locked in nights, but who can turn coins, works: she's ale to pour; violin tucked under arm, Adris has dirges to play.
Movement catches his eye: green, flowing between shadows – following her.
Greencoat. Adris bites his lip, then raises his bow: Good luck, lass!
Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork, hole, lock, sheet, pendant, crystal