So I’m writing a “short” story about a mortal and immortal and

ruins-of-gold:

this is how it’s going:

Maybe it was the way the moon shone when they met. Perhaps it was the thrill of doing something you were not supposed to. She did not know, but she knew that she loved it. Every moment. When they would meet under the canopy of dark trees that reached the sky like a shadow of a horrible beast, when the moon and stars would shine brighter than ever when their lips met, in kisses gentle and warm, like being dipped in a pool of gold. Like a beautifully wistful dream many thought of to be a nightmare.

It was too late for Eiddwen to say that she wasn’t in love. It happened long ago; just when their eyes met.

It was likely that a young girl walking into the forest late during the night was dangerous, but she cared not for danger, her heart was alight with desire for adventure, for excitement, for love. She knew it was impossible to find love in such little time, but knowing did not decide what you were to do if you had a free spirit and a strong will. The villagers did not call her ‘wild’ for no reason. It was the desire that made her her. It was the desire that led to adventures; desire that led to trouble; desire that led to love.

@katabasiss thank you (and also not) for inspiring this and helping me find the prompt.