Wind chimes moved by solar winds.
Inspired by the 31 Days LJ Community's theme for June 1, 2006.
It was to those sounds that they made love: to the whisper of wind through the boughs of century-old trees, to the endless rolling mystery of the shoreline, to the quiet intrusion of summer rain.
It was in such light that she mapped and memorized every portion of her lover's body: sunlight, moonbeams, and the shifting rainbows of stained glass. Eyes, mouth, limbs, fingers, toes, the invisible line separating breasts and tracing down across the belly then below, to the spot where, at a touch, she could throw her lover so completely it was both sweet and devastating to behold.
It was in such ways that she viewed their relationship: master and student, lover to lover, coffee brown skin against vanilla cream, imperfect replicas of the species pressed together to match curve for curve. She hadn't considered eternity — there were things moving between and beyond them, and surely someday it would rip them apart, but not before she did the ripping herself.
When the someday came sooner than she guessed, she did not protest, only left with her companions to start their small, unnamed rebellion. Her lover then wrapped herself in black and silence, choosing never to hear or smell or taste or touch or dance in light again.