Hmm... Experimenting here to see how to do this, patience is nice.
A brilliant light, so soft and silk, piercing the air from the rose-ivory disk.
Can you hear it, do you hear her? The calling, that ceaseless beckoning further into the night. Whispering, waiting, crying so sweetly... "Come, come to me. Come and see..." That whistle in the wind, the trees crying aloud the tales of their ages, all the worlds they witnessed, begging for someone, anyone, to come and listen. Still the wind roars on, beckoning the weeds and greens, the silent grass and the muttering roses.
Oh that magic, feel the touch of the rose light upon your cheek. The caress of the wind so kind and enticing, urging you on to follow her further and listen to the maiden. The intoxication of the night, the rush of life flowing through the wind and the verdant land. rushing, zipping past the trees and beasts of her world. The breathless joy of life alive, a world so real it cannot be.
Love and war, the chaos