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wolven7They sat, smoking, atop the hill, watching the scene play out below them. He looked at the smoke, and pitched his own to the wind.
"There's quite enough of that, right now, wouldn't you think?" He looked at her, and tried a smile. It felt wrong, on his lips, and didn't show at all, in his eyes.
"Hm," she said, and continued to smoke. She turned to him, then, drew a breath, as if to speak, and turned away. The smoke curled from her nostrils, and formed ancient shapes, before being torn apart, by the wind. The fire, from the cities, danced in her eyes, and it looked at once at home, and so very wrong. She took a long drag, on the cigarette, and held it, exhaling slowly, and with great care.
"I'm dying," she said. And he knew it was true, in his heart. "I'm dying, and only now am I able to feel this powerful. This.. Alive." A short, bitter laugh escaped her, and it hurt him to hear it. "Look what we've done. Do you see it?" She swept her arms wide, framing the destruction, and the rampage, below. "For the first time, they have something to think about, something to distract them from their petty differences, and conflicts. And it's beautiful. And tomorrow, it will be over, and gone. There's nothing left for me, here, and as soon as they repair the damage from this lesson, they'll forget all that they were shown. And that hurts me more than... Well, it hurts."
He moved behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. She turned to him, then, and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, and neck. They stood, together, and hid their faces from what they had seen, what they both knew must come. He could never tell her that, now, he didn't care if they learned, if they grew, because she was with him, and he would enjoy the effort, of its self, as long as they were together. He pushed his face into her hair, breathed deeply, and felt tears patter against his chest. There was a sharp pain in his back and he thought Not again, but there was no blade. This time, the pain grew outward, and encompassed them both. She pressed her face, harder, into his chest, and cried there.
"What happened to the wind," she asked, and she never looked up to see his pitch black wings enfolding her, dropping blood to the hillside, keeping her safe, for as long as he could.
(c)Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved.
"There's quite enough of that, right now, wouldn't you think?" He looked at her, and tried a smile. It felt wrong, on his lips, and didn't show at all, in his eyes.
"Hm," she said, and continued to smoke. She turned to him, then, drew a breath, as if to speak, and turned away. The smoke curled from her nostrils, and formed ancient shapes, before being torn apart, by the wind. The fire, from the cities, danced in her eyes, and it looked at once at home, and so very wrong. She took a long drag, on the cigarette, and held it, exhaling slowly, and with great care.
"I'm dying," she said. And he knew it was true, in his heart. "I'm dying, and only now am I able to feel this powerful. This.. Alive." A short, bitter laugh escaped her, and it hurt him to hear it. "Look what we've done. Do you see it?" She swept her arms wide, framing the destruction, and the rampage, below. "For the first time, they have something to think about, something to distract them from their petty differences, and conflicts. And it's beautiful. And tomorrow, it will be over, and gone. There's nothing left for me, here, and as soon as they repair the damage from this lesson, they'll forget all that they were shown. And that hurts me more than... Well, it hurts."
He moved behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. She turned to him, then, and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, and neck. They stood, together, and hid their faces from what they had seen, what they both knew must come. He could never tell her that, now, he didn't care if they learned, if they grew, because she was with him, and he would enjoy the effort, of its self, as long as they were together. He pushed his face into her hair, breathed deeply, and felt tears patter against his chest. There was a sharp pain in his back and he thought Not again, but there was no blade. This time, the pain grew outward, and encompassed them both. She pressed her face, harder, into his chest, and cried there.
"What happened to the wind," she asked, and she never looked up to see his pitch black wings enfolding her, dropping blood to the hillside, keeping her safe, for as long as he could.
(c)Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved.
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Date: 2003-02-12 05:10 pm (UTC)--JMDC
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Date: 2003-02-12 05:44 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing this...Very touching.
-sister anonymous
Re:
Date: 2003-02-12 07:16 pm (UTC)I reiterate....
Date: 2003-02-12 08:22 pm (UTC)Re: I reiterate....
Date: 2003-02-12 08:30 pm (UTC)