smoke beneath the playground lights

Silas Agata · 07-19-2010, 04:09 AM

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Overhead the moon was sliced in half, exactly fifty percent full in the dark night sky. Though the weather had been relatively decent over the last week or so, a thick haze hung in the air tonight from the humidity that had clung to the area giving the moon an ethereal halo. For whatever reason it seemed as if the Praeses couldn’t catch more than an hour of sleep at one time. His body was plenty spent, his pale blue eyes struggling to stay alert as heavy lids drifted closed, yet it always seemed as if sleep didn’t stay long with him. Silas was starting to think something was seriously wrong.

Slender fingers pulled one of the cigarettes from the tatty paper box before Silas quietly made his way out of his second story bedroom. Though there were no rules against roaming at these hours, he was well aware that many of his fellow clan members preferred to get some shut eye at night. Descending the stairs, he did his best not to step on the invisible weak spots that tended to creak and moan under the weight of a paw.

Venturing into the sitting room, Silas lit the cigarette he held between his teeth with a flimsy match. The young Russian didn’t smoke too often, but he welcomed the swirl of tobacco smoke. There was much on his mind, but he tried to put those thoughts to the back. For now he just wanted to relax and hopefully find a way to secure himself a few more hours of sleep. Dropping into one of the stuffed chairs that furnished the room, a plume of smoke rising overhead, Silas brushed some of the onyx hair from his face. Perhaps he was becoming an insomniac. But Silas wondered... his body couldn't reject sleep for much longer, could it?

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