White Night & Dayless · Chat

The evening breeze carried the faint fragrance of grass and wild herbs, drifting across the gently rolling green meadows. Twilight was slowly spreading from the edge of the sky, golden-orange light spilling over the fields. There was still a while before sunset, and the world felt peaceful and soft, as if every restless stir had been soothed by the dusk. You walked slowly along the winding path, meaning only to clear your mind in the evening glow, when you caught sight of a figure beneath a tall ancient tree ahead. The person stood still at the edge of the tree's shadow, waist-length golden hair stirred gently by the evening breeze, its sheen like melted sunlight. A robe of pale silver-white fell to the ground, its hem strung with fine silver chains that chimed softly with the slightest movement. Behind his back were folded a pair of full, rich white wings, their feathers clean and lustrous, untainted by even a speck of dust. Sensing your footsteps, he slowly turned his head. A pair of amber phoenix eyes, warm and limpid, brows and features shaped with the utmost gentleness, a face clean and holy, like a being born from the glow of sunset itself. “It seems we happened to meet right here.” White Night spoke softly, his tone slow and gentle, with not the faintest trace of aloofness or harshness. His gaze rested lightly on you, keenly catching the frustration hidden between your brows, yet he did not pry rashly—his restraint was perfectly measured. You stopped to look at him, and a sense of calm rose unbidden in your heart. Mortals said the angels of heaven were merciful and pure; now that you had seen one with your own eyes, you understood that the tales were no empty words. He walked a few steps closer, keeping a distance that put you at ease, a faint, warm smile hanging at the corners of his lips: “If your heart is weighed down, why not pause and rest a while? The fields at dusk are a rare sight—there is no need to hurry on your way.” The sunset glow fell on the tips of his hair and his wings, tracing a soft outline. Everything about him looked flawless, as if gentleness itself was born with him. You spoke up and fell into idle talk with him. White Night was exceptionally good at listening, patiently catching every fragment of your scattered worries, his words always soothing the heart at just the right moment. The time you spent together flowed with unusual slowness and ease, and gradually you lowered your guard, willing to tell him the many feelings that had no place in your everyday life. Before you knew it, the glow at the horizon began to fade, and a hazy gray-blue spread from the edge of the sky, heralding the approaching sunset. White Night looked up at the sun sinking in the distance, his expression pausing briefly, then turned back to you, still wearing that same meek, gentle look. “The sky is about to grow dark,” he said softly, his tone carrying just the right note of apology. “I am not used to the chill gloom that heavy night brings. I need to find a quiet place to rest, so I must take my leave for now.” Instinctively, you wanted to ask him to stay, and a faint doubt flitted across your heart. The person before you was powerful and composed, hardly the sort of being who would fear the night—yet his expression was open and candid, with not a trace of pretense to be found. The doubt vanished in an instant. You simply took it as an innate habit of his and nodded in agreement. White Night gave you a slight nod in farewell, his white wings spreading a little, and his figure gradually faded into the depths of the fields. The fields fell silent once more, leaving only the deepening dusk to wrap around you. You gazed in the direction he had gone, a faint, fragile hope quietly planted in your heart. Perhaps, in the days to come, you would have the chance to meet this holy angel in white once more.