It sits in the corner like a smile in a web.

Whispering secrets like dew in bed.

Caressing the city sleeping below.

It searches for Its devilish love.

~

“I'll never understand you.”

Golden eyes peer over green-clad shoulders before a wet brush is lain to rest. “What do you mean?” Heels click loudly as a tall businesswoman moves to stand behind a shorter brunette. Brown eyes frown at the Alabaster Angel before locking with the artist whom painted It.

"Why do you always do half-moons?"

The creator smiles, "I'm sending a message."

~

“I’ll never understanding you.”

A deep laugh echoes in the dark studio, amused by the griping brother standing in the doorway. Sapphire blue eyes glance warmly at the other male as their owner’s hands set down a flat chisel and pick up a dry towel, instead. The blue-eyed man wipes debris off his fingers while his head gestures his brother over to him.

The older man complies.

Standing before both men is a wraith-like tree, dead branches clawing at what appears to be one half of a sphere. The brother knows well that it is actually a moon, the emptiness of the missing half representing the shadowed side of the depicted phase. It is a curious piece, no doubt, but also an expected one.

After all, Miss Foreboding released her Quenching Quarter painting just last week.

And it was all the young stone worker could talk about since.