He fills her eyes and stays there, quivering, a bundle of starlight shot by a bow, fatal, final, into the smoldering ashes of her overcast heart. She regards him as though through a mirror, from afar; he is a memory given corporeal shape, manifesting even as she fades away. He has grown stronger and she has grown cold; he has been crownless and she has been queen, but today she stands before him a pauper, penniless, begging for scraps of a once-verdant happiness wrest too early from her luminous soul.
He inhales sharply and his breath takes her smile; she is left quivering, wondering, tentative hope replaced with blooming uncertainty- what did I do wrong? Her gaze searches him for some sign, some clue, some indication of the steps he wants her to take. She wants to dance but has forgotten the notes; they are swallowed, drowned out by the pounding of blood in her veins and the weight of her grief. Embers lay listless on her burnt ochre hide; she tilts her head and they stir but do not ignite, a cascade of light back-lighting her figure, a halo of protection from the whispering dark. He promised her, once, they'd be safe in the dark- safe together, safe as friends, safe in the laughter he brought to her lips and the wonder which glittered so bright in his eyes.
She does see that wonder tonight. Instead she finds something dark and austere, a cold rejection slicing cruelly across his guileless face- for me? she wonders, but then, why did he seek her out? What is he looking for here, in her shadow, in the cast off reflections of embers and baubles which shroud her, defend her from the terrors which so plague her sleep? Has he come only to leave her, to draw out her smile and throw it away, scoff at the memories of moonlight and soft words, adventures and secrets told under the moon?
No- and anger flashes over her face, a moment of heat snarling up through her veins which flares out, crimson, across her bright form. But her fury is not for him, just as his rejection is not for her, and with a second's still her eyes draw open, rising up to meet his gaze. She will not believe his malice until it is proven through act or word. She has spent too long shielding herself in the sunlight; she wants to be able to enjoy this night.
His voice startles a laugh from deep within her belly, something rusted and withered, but still real, still her. "Yes," she affirms easily, some ember of mirth bringing light to the dark, rich timbre of her alto voice. She takes a moment to look him over, really look him over, endless eyes sliding across the brittle lines of his figure before returning to rest upon his face, the slimmest hint of a smile tugging once more at inky lips, coupled with wonder, a delicate hope. "You are Caneo."
She reaches out to meet his touch, neck extending delicately, silver mane dancing in the light of a thousand sparks. She does not mean to, it is not planned, and even as their noses grows closer she feels the rapid beating of her pulse, feels the way her breath comes fast then hitches harshly in her lungs. She closes his eyes and feels his breath, then skin, the softness of it surprising, the warmness of it enticing. It is a butterfly's kiss, barely there, but she wants to hold it, cling to it, remember on days when the sun goes out.
"I lost you," she whispers against his lips, eyes still closed. Her voice shakes. "Where did you go?"
Why did you go?
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