Night. It fell injuriously over the ruddy canvas of light. The days grew brief upon the slithering approach of winter. That same bright day brought the brazen warmth of the sun, letting reciprocate its feelings for even him.
Nary did the sun give him enough solace, and protection for the savagery of the moonless nights.
This eve was wrought with discouraged palpitations in his heart as the crystalline stars unfurled from their nests.
Each hung in position, batting their eyes at him in sympathy as the moon covered its weary head, hiding from those searching eyes seeking its refuge.
What was gloriously exposed was so easily taken away on mountainous chariots to the darkest recess of the sky's ever moving drapery.
Each was a secret, holding this boy in a taunting display. He would infinitely have preferred the heat of summer extending his senses to something beyond the fear of losing parts of himself. Those he considered, equally as damning and necessary, had been accepted by the loving body laying next to him.
Security came in the swollen caresses, soothing the aches as he flittered away into the sophomoric body akin to her own.
Protection was bequeathed to the quiver and simple bow, tattered by deficiency in her own abilities. When his hands lifted in repute, the stubble left from the once acute cuticles made him frown.
What price was he willing to give to throw away the evils that lurked inside of him for this inconspicuous life? What was once relished, in the narrow cage surrounding his heart, was floating in a spacious denial in his mind.
There was nothing he had to give this darling soul guiding him though the darkness, with her poorer eyes still shining like the stars.
Offering her the mirth of retaining the deplorable self - the one of morning and light - was what she had requested upon many occasion. The silence teemed over the carefully placed beats of his heart. He could no more refuse her, in all form, than to give away his breath to the nacreous beast clawing at the backs of his companions.
No weakness, or meager will, would allow him to spread suffrage when it could be salvaged by this dire affection.
Closing his newly blackened eyes, the man waited on baited breath for the girl to press her skin closer to his. Her closeness remained bittersweet and welcoming as she guarded him from the harm and nightmarish serpents that would come to claim him.
The night - it was always treacherous.
Yet, in a moment, the sweetness tethered to the fingers that traces circles upon his wrist - outlining a map leading to his heart - let him succumb to the humanity bleeding from his pores.
There was no fret, no fury in his bones as long as this chaste being soothed the darkness with delicate hums and hymns of spring and honeyed hopes of the morning.
The haunting hours could no more take him away from her, than the magic could truly erase what he really was.
AN: A prose on InuYasha's human night. Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated, never expected.
