[m] - blackbird singing in the dead of night

Alaine Winters · 01-15-2011, 10:54 PM

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table © Mel
SoSuWriMo: 534

There was a joint need now; no saving grace to tear them from the nightmare that had overwhelmed each waking day, but a single thought that hovered on the gilded wings of hope, maintaining light where once there had been none. Two hearts, one wilted and one charred, could beat as one in the wings of the nighttime. She had loved him once, to be true - Now, perhaps, she loved the idea of him. Gabriel had become a figurehead for her hope. Within the dark channels of her lucid frame, the woman knew that this collision of theirs was nothing lasting; never would the love they had known as children be returned to bless them again. She did not deceive herself with thoughts of a bright white future, the kind of fake color that peeled from picket fences once they were left to ruin.

Ruin was what they knew. It was who they were. Together, at this moment, they would embrace each others' wrecked and craven shells, and perhaps for a second become whole again.

He handles her with a tenderness that belied the power of rippling muscles, scarred face twisted in an ironic portrayal of the sincerity they both felt. So gentle, was the War-King; Claws that had ripped flesh from bone caressed her softly, as though she were the porcelain moon - Breakable. Alaine could sense that her savior had broken many creatures, and perhaps he feared to see her crumble, moondust in his blood-stained palms. But she was stronger than that, as strong as he in a polar way. Where his hands brought chaos, hers brought healing, and they swept through the thick plushness of ocher and shadow pelt, sweet ivory and bone white.

She could give to him what she gave rarely - The blessing of her body. It was an inevitable chapter in a story worthy of the Brothers Grimm; but they were no Hansel and Gretel, and this thing was hers to give. It had been taken from her by force, once; a sin that could never be forgotten. The cruelty was written in lines across her arm, readable to those who knew the dialect of haunted emerald eyes. But to him, she could surrender, a temporary hiatus of the walls that had held her frigid and restrained for so long.

He could give to her what is was she had needed from him, all this time; but this was a thing she did not consciously know, when her body opened itself like a flower in bloom to accept him. Moonlight pulsed through her like electricity, and in the darkness their eyes glowed mineral and harmonic. A soft sound spilled from her - A sound of relief? There had been no pain, though she had mentally readied herself for its intrusion. Instead, her body welcomed him; Two pieces of a puzzle slotting together at last. Lithe frame arched against him, a friction of dark and light bodies. Slender, tentative fingers now wound with purpose in the dark locks of his hair, eyes shutting slightly as she trembled, taught as a bowstring, beneath him.

His scent washed over her, branding the beauty as his own, for this night.

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