Midnight hair and lantern jaw, gentle in speech if not appearance, he spread his hands wide and, reaching them towards the bonfire, spoke an unbinding spell.
'What once was ours
Is now yours, and mine.
I release you from your vows.'
Tendrils crept out from the ring of stones, smoke snakes curling through the grass to encircle her ankles. She made a little moue of distaste and visibly stopped herself from stepping back and shaking them off. Interrupting the ritual now would nullify everything they'd already done.
He was sad, though not heart-broken. This was his fault; he had mistaken rigidity for strength. While strength was malleable and capable of spontaneity, rigidity snapped like a thawing icicle at the slightest provocation.
Better to start his search from scratch than to cross the finish line with the wrong partner. Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don't always turn out as planned.
I've wanted to try the Speakeasy for a while now, having read about it on Suzanne's blog http://lucidedit.wordpress.com/ and because I really love the name Speakeasy and its connotations. So, here's my first attempt, and now I'm going to go read the other link-ups for inspiration to get better because so far the writing I've seen here is way above par.