.skymarit2 {padding:0px; padding-bottom:120px; margin:auto; background-image:url(http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... skybg2.png); background-position:bottom left; background-repeat:no-repeat; width:526px;}
.skymarit2 p{text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; color:#000000; margin:0px; text-align:justify;}
.skymarit2 b{font-family:georgia, 'times new roman', serif; color:#A11313;}
.skymarit2 i{font-family:georgia, 'times new roman', serif; color:#703232;}</style>
Sky was up in one of the patient rooms upstairs, fixing up the bed there; it had been a touch wobbly lately. She'd been putting it off before but since the 'dirty deed' with... well, she hadn't wanted to think about it. Instead, whilst muttering to those stupid voices, Sky had turned into a home remodelling monster. Her entire livingroom had been moved around with new white blankets painted and hung on the walls. Her fireplace was unnaturally clean. Her kitchen spotless... her bedroom perfectly cleaned. Not a thread out of place, not a spot of dirt on the floors. Somehow she'd managed to clean the entire house since then. There had been little room for sleep between that and her medic tasks.
Somehow, though, as he usually did, Tal had managed to break her mindless task. Outside, in a beautiful series of pitches and tones, a familliar but new kind of voice sang up to her. Curiously, she peeked out the window. There he stood in his purest white, singing up to her window, a beautiful song. One she'd never heard before.
She waited. And listened. The window was open but the curtains were drawn, hiding her from view as she peered down at him and waited out the song. As his voice started to trail, signalling the last verse, she whirled around and darted down the stairs, pausing only to brush the hair out of her eyes as she went.
She stepped out carefully, tail flicking behind her in that odd, uneven way it did. For a moment, she had nothing to say, leaning on the closed front door and slowly, ever so slowly, starting to smile. That was beautiful, Taliesin. What a waste to be singing it here at my doorstep, though... surely you've gotten the wrong house...? No swan-necked beauty lives here. Her voice feigned mourning, the smile and gleam in her eyes speaking louder than her voice in happy hues of blue. She'd never been more flattered... she'd never felt so shy.