Grim gibberings gnash in the gloom.
Night flows out of the east like an inky stain, blotting blue from above and shrouding snow in stygian shades of unseen eyes.
Tenebrous eyes. Eyes in the night. Eyes unseen, which yet see. And what the seers? What visions do they see? What words fall silently on unlighted snow? What phantasm of darkling dread lurks, beyond light, beyond sound?
Narcissus-X sailed through the grotto of velvet coal, roams at will throughout shining obsidian vastnesses, yet knows not what stands but a few yards beyond the wall.
Stands, abides, endures: or crouches.