Literature
The Summit of The Tall Dark One (ROUGH)
The tall figure stared out off the edge into the endless black clouds below and the purple-orange glow of light far away in the distance, like a candle flickering in slow motion behind a lavender curtain. Still, he was a statue; living in some form yet still like death, a motionless construct of flesh that was cloaked and garb in full shadow. The wind pushed against the being and took pause in his heavy ancient robes. And as thin and light each bit of him seemed, perhaps as if the breeze could pull him off into dust bit by bit, he yet strode forward with a cold confidence, as like a virus at the last beat of its host’s heart. The edge,