darkened clouds upon a strained mind

the skin under Anders’ eyes is dark and stained
as he drags himself though the empty hallways
a blanket secured around his neck
and billowing out like a cape

he can feel his hands trembling under the cover of the fleece
and he can sense the nervousness
wafting off the few people he comes across
spoken in wrought hands and pained faces

but no words are muttered as he makes his way to the staircase
where lingering a bit too long haunts him with visions
a half-glimpsed image of Miranda waiting for him in the garden
a rose in his hand and gold in his eyes

his cracked lips almost give way to a weakened heart
but nothing gives out on his ascent to the suite
except maybe his legs when meeting the mattress
and another shard of his willpower

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