As the moon inched towards its apex in the sky, he watched in silence as the cool, white light cast an eerie glow across the land. People say that moonlight is beautiful, but he didn't think so. He thought it was rather harsh and clinical - stealing the colour from everything its greedy fingers touched, and leaving dark pools of shadows where it could not reach. The land looked very stark, very empty and very unforgiving.
His name was Giovanni and he was a strange figure to be roaming the desolate ruins at this bewitching hour. It was difficult to distinguish his features as he lay shrouded in shadow, but if one looked close enough, you could make out the heavy spill of his cloak and the wide brim of his hat (although the colour was quite indistinguishable). He looked up at the moon with displeasure; he disliked the light which both revealed and hid everything all at once. He was impatient and the person he was meeting was late.
