Here again where the voice of the waters reigned. Reverberations of a raise reprise; falling, trickling - raining down. Moisture clang upon the air, weighted. Droplets beaded upon fur, settling into inked pelt as imperfect spheres captured. Within each orb the caverns themselves were contained - warped images of a mirrored place. Marbled eyes regarded the world with silence. Mouth so parted, revealing the barest shine of (daggered teeth). In that space of fractured light, a glimmer of moonstone existed over which lips peeled back.

The black shuck sat there upon haunches. But a moveable statuette against the stone. A shape of resemblance. Sharply outlined there, the shadows met and parted with the edges of him. He waited. With consideration of all that was laid before him. With hesitance of all that remained. Soundlessly he measured the distance that existed between breaths. Wordlessly he watched the ripples sent out upon the puddles where the waters fell - as above, so below. Here.

“Vyette,” he so breathed into empty space - as though the void itself had contained the name (and he had merely plucked it whole from there). Steam panted from the name. Head tilted, barest motion. Gaze was thrown to the side as though therein to find the figure in which sight, mind, soul was everin devoted. For where there was to be he; she was also bound.

Raising self from the shelf on the edge of the known, Kazgut paced the length of wall that separated his gaze from the sight of her. Steadily, he advanced. There was no panic in this; only inhalation, exhalation (breath). For even if the wraith had chosen to wander from this place, he would find her there.

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@Vyette