There are no clouds tonight and the sky is so cold and still that ice crystals reflect shimmering halos around every star. I inhale the cool ribbon of blackness as I race through the leaf-blanketed contours of the ancient forest. It passes back out of my lungs at the same icy temperature. Sounds fade behind me - The noisy thoughts of my sleepless brothers and sisters. The clink of marble chess pieces on the black and white board...
Frosted leaves give way to blades of grass, and in a moment my hand catches the edge of the roof. One foot silent on the black sand of the shingles, long fingers against the faded paint of the wood-framed window, and a wave of warmth hits me as my feet land silently on old polished floor boards. The curtains fall back with a gentle flutter. I catch the flicker of the light off her eyes in the dark as they flit open. I can hear the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile as she inhales. She holds her breath for a moment.
She moves to one side to make room for me on the bed, stretching her arms above her head and quick fingers coalescing her tangle of damp hair into an untidy twist. The movement sends aerials of lavender tumbling through the darkness, and I swear my eyes could go from black to gold just feeding off her scent these days. The rocking chair sways slightly as I pull the threadbare blanket from its wooden frame and take opposing corners in each hand. She sees only my silhouette and the flash of my teeth in the darkness as I pass over her, simultaneously embracing her through the blanket and carelessly sinking beside her on the bed.
The house is quiet. The world is quiet and dark. She begins to whisper something to me, but I put one finger on her lips. Shhh, I whisper. We both freeze, me with a closed-lipped smile, she with anticipation. I graze my cold finger across the tip of her chin as I move my hand away. My lips move on hers, fire and ice. I pause and open my eyes purposefully. Her brown lashes flutter against my cheek as she looks up at me curiously. Our faces part and there's the tiniest sound as her mouth opens and her head sinks back to the pillow.
I take the edge of the blanket and cross it over her chest, wrapping my arm around her opposite side. I curl myself around her as close as I can, tucking my face into the side of her neck, the tip of my nose moving across her cheek, her ear, the curve of her jaw. Kissing the tangles of her damp hair, I press my face into the darkness. She reaches one hand over and absently runs her fingers through my hair, down across my neck and shoulder - I hold her closer and she repeats the caress.
And this is the antithesis of how my life has been for 100 years. The quiet. The stillness. The simpleness of holding her in the dark. To have my thoughts be my own. How strange it feels after spending an eternity of days pushing the noise of everyone away. Now, to hold her in my arms, I finally feel alone.
Hours after midnight she is sleeping. The places where my body lies tangent to hers warm ever so slightly. I don't deserve this quiet.