your long floating sleeves
beat outwards with the blossoms
white butterfly wings
Byakuya came across to read her verse. Without commenting on her clumsiness, he took the brush from her hand and added:
you shine, a snow-born flower
on the night's fragrant dark hair
Hisana lowered her eyes, blushing. Her fingers touched his as she took the brush again.
I am my lord's rest,
his moment's pleasure, his whim,
the dew at dawning
"It is still night," Byakuya murmured, "my bright star."
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