[oom] Come down into the Garden, Eve.

[vojvode]

The night is cold and bright.  The moon casts a pale light over the world, throwing it into chiaroscuro. 

He stands on the hill over looking the Bar and his thoughts turn to the gold of her hair and the gentle lilt of her voice.

So, we'll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

He covers his face with his hands, trying to recall the sound of her laughter.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

He can still taste the sweetness of her mouth.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

He can still hear the beat of her heart. 

Kate.  Wake up.

I need you.

Comments

[ikissdhimbck]

She sees the faces of her friends, her breath coming in slow and ragged, and shuts her eyes to cling to their strength.

"I'm not."

She swallows hard and shakes her head again, but this time the motion is pronounced and full.

"I'm not alone. I'm not alone."

She breathes in sharply, lifting her eyes to his.

"They'd be beside themselves if they knew I was here."

[vojvode]

He chuckles at that, his chin tucking in and his eyes glittering.

"As well they should be. But you," he says, looking down into her face with genuine affection. "You know better. You walk in darkness as well, and if it is darkness you crave, you know where to find me."

He makes it sound like a refuge, impenetrable and steadfast. A place of solace and comfort.

[ikissdhimbck]

And it's seductive, the thought of a place to hide and seek comfort from all the atrocities of her life.

But to seek out the dark path, and abandon what's left of her faith? To turn her back on her God, as he says?

You are already cursed.

She looks away again, breathing tremulously. Something feels wrong, through the warmth and the comfort. Something feels not-quite-right.

I just can't reach it.

"Vlad..."

Her voice is like wind through wheat fields, whistling quietly, sweetly, warm and dusty.

"...Tell me what to do."

[vojvode]

He reaches out a taloned hand, and the shadows around them both darken and grow long. His fingertips graze her temple, curving along her scalp until he holds her skull in his palm.

He turns her face up to sky and the moonlight kisses those pale cheekbones. Around them, the snow drifts and the crisp cold night unfolds in obsidian and diamonds. But she is swathed in warmth and softness, a golden warmth permeating her limbs, an intoxicating and heavy bliss that washes away all her concerns.

"God does not deserve you," he whispers.

[ikissdhimbck]

Her chest rises and falls with the rapidity of her breaths, deep on the inhale, shallow on the exhale. She's still staring at a grand ceiling in a warm castle, shadows dancing in the flickering firelight, like wicked specters circling a roaring fire.

She's warm and heavy, skin buzzing with the faint thrill of his hands in her hair, his breath on her skin.

'If it was punishment, then I ain't got no use for him ... He's foolish, not knowin' what He's losin'.'

Her heart beats a tattoo in her ears, like music rich and deep.

"You don't ... don't deserve -- to be alone."

[vojvode]

His eyes fall closed and the ghost of a smile drifts over his features. He pulls back from her a bit, and opens his arms, inviting her into his embrace.

"Then stay with me. At least, until sunrise."

[ikissdhimbck]

She feels dizzy, almost drunk with the warm spell he's cast over her mind, and finds herself willing when he opens his arms for her. She nestles into his embrace, closing her eyes as she seeks out his heartbeat.



"I'm safe, here."

It doesn't sound like a question, but it's not a statement either.

[vojvode]

"Yes."

He enfolds her in his arms, stroking her hair. He presses a kiss against her temple and closes his eyes.

His heartbeat is strong and steady, ocean waves against a distant shore.




For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.