The water steamed gently and he added the fragrant rinsed tea. He let it steep in the simple teapot. The steam rose and danced sensuous curves that tugged at distant memories on long forgotten shores. Outside the winds howled. This simple hut protected him, for now.
How many more years would he wait here on the ever mist-shrouded and wind-scoured shores?
As long as he had to.
His lips curved in a smile and the skeleton nodded to himself, reaffirming his long ago decision. Bony fingers raised the cup, poured the tea. The sips disappeared into him despite his lack of flesh. He had a lifetime to wait.
There was no hurry for her. In fact, he hoped she tarried in the land of the living longer.
“This land in between is no place for my lady to walk alone.”
This is based loosely in one concept of the land between realms in Japanese myth. In a chant used by certain Priestesses a Catalpa Bow and voice is used to summon the dead from the windswept beach and mists that they wander.