Sweet Night
Oh, sweet moon!
Her hands, delicate and long-fingered shafts of pale skin, reach out toward the starry sky. The blue-blackness of the night calls the little winged being, begs her for a dance among its jeweled stars. A gentle night breeze rustles her skin, asking her to take flight and dance.
She cannot help but want to answer its call. How could she – or anyone for that matter – resist the lovely moon's gentle beckoning, especially with the lady being so full and bright on such a beautiful night? The girl's wings, hidden beneath a blue jacket, flutter with anticipation and the white flight feathers tremble with want. She wants to fly. She knows she can. She wants to dance!
But she does not. Not yet. Instead, the winged girl bows her head and allows her short black bangs to cover her searching blue eyes. They flit right, left, then right again. She is alone. She is alone on the abandoned rooftop, alone on the old building in the ancient part of the ghettos of her town. There is no one here. There is no one to see her, to mock her beautiful wings and the ability of flight.
A shy smile crosses her lips.
She scans the rooftop one more time, just to be sure, before she carefully removes the jacket binding her. Although she is slow, the flimsy silk creaks with the force of holding her wings back and the soft fabric threatens to tear right off of her. It flutters as the wings shoot out from her back, expanding in a burst of white feathers.
The girl sighs. What relief to stop pretending to be what she is not.
Her wings expand, shaking off the last of the restrictions that had kept them hidden. It feels good, like waking up after a long and peaceful dream. She couldn't help it. The girl holds her arms out and she feels her legs begin to move, walking toward the small metal railing that circled the very edge of the building. It was designed to keep people from jumping off to their deaths but her feet clamber up it anyway.
As she walks, her flight feathers bounce off of her ankles. They tickle. She smiles as she climbs up each of the three shafts of metal that made up the railing. One, two, three. As she stands on the very last rail, the girl looks up at the moon again. Its silver light calls her again. The girl holds her arms out and as she raises them, her wings lift as well.
She jumps.
Snapping into action, the force of her wings yank her up into the night air and keep her from plummeting to her death on the concrete below. Her hands reach out to the sky again and her wings respond to the movement, spinning the girl around in a clumsy arc. Oh, what a beautiful night! How forgiving the heavenly moon! The winged girl laughs as she twirls in mid-air, her gestures growing graceful and gentle. She cradles the moon in her hands and spins with it, her eyes focusing intensely on the white light she sees in between her fingers.
She sighs, content with her dance. She dips into a dainty curtsy, paying her respects to the ruler of the night. The moon seems to twinkle back at her, its silvery light congratulating her for her daring leap. Spinning, spinning, spinning, the child twirls in the sky, her limbs shifting gracefully as her wings take her higher, higher, higher.
As she spins, she suddenly feels someone else twirling with her, a gentle hand cupping her elbow.
The boy smiles at her as they dance in the air, unafraid of her reaction. Even as her hand shoots forward, moving to strike at his face, he is already several feet away. There's a flash of emotion in his dark eyes as he moves away. Pain briefly appears in his blue eyes but he turns around quickly. The girl is frightened, terrified at how quickly he had appeared before her. His flight feathers tremble with the beat of her heartbeat: ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
His wings are black against the dark blue of the night.
Rage fills the girl as he floats away, lands gently on the railing she had taken off from. What was he doing here? This was her building! Her dance place! He had no right to be here! No right to be here with her!
Her mouth opens, readying to expel her vicious words and send him scurrying away from her beloved abandoned rooftop. To leave her in peace. Her wings shake with fear. He would mock her. The boy, even with his back to her and rooting inside of a backpack on the ground, is already mocking her. She had wings; so did he. But hers white and his black. His are better. More easy to hide. Less of a painful thing than her white.
Everyone mocked her. The only place she is safe is up here in the darkness, underneath the moon's uncaring gaze. Her fingers tremble as she flits over to the railing, landing on it as lightly as she could. It creaks beneath her feet. He would laugh at her. She doesn't know who he is, but he would laugh. Everyone did. Her wings are beautiful, but white is not. Her sneakers scrape against the ancient metal as she steps off and lands heavily on the cement.
He doesn't stir, only keeps looking through his backpack. Any emotion he'd had while dancing with her has already disappeared. Instead of a smile, there is only a cold, hard line on his mouth. Other than the movement of his hand in the backpack, he is still.
Guilt twists in the girl's stomach as she watches him, too afraid to move, too angry to stay. After a moment, he glances over at her and then the harsh look softens. A smile teases the corner of his grim expression. A soft sigh emerges. Dark eyes flicker and linger on her shape. He blinks, once, twice. His expression softens even further.
His hand slips out of the black backpack, hiding the object he had found in his palm. Despite her annoyance and anger, the girl finds herself curious on what he was doing.
What did he have in his hand? Why did he stop dancing? Had she scared him off or something? No… if she had, he wouldn't still be here, would he? He'd have left, either by sky or by climbing down the staircase if he didn't want to broadcast the black wings.
But he is staying. Why?
The boy turns his hand slowly like any movement might send her running. A finger peeks out from the too-long sleeve of his leather jacket, beckoning her to come closer. That smile widens ever so slightly. She finds herself moving toward him, taking tiny steps closer and closer to his trembling figure.
In too little time or maybe too long, her fingers close around his proffered hand. She can feel him shaking under a fingerless glove. His smile widens and he opens his other hand. Glancing down, there is little more than a long, black feather in his palm.
The exact same color of the wings on his back.
Her lips purse, startled by the sudden gesture. When she remains still, somehow, the feather is suddenly tucked behind her ear, behind a thick lock of black hair. She blinks, once, twice. His smile softens even further. As he drops his hand, the boy's fingers linger on her pale cheek.
She suddenly knows who he is.
A smile flits across her lips as she cups his hand around hers. The surprise is enough to make her laugh and that makes the boy stand up, clasp his fingers around hers. A glossy, black feather tickles against her temple as he leans down, presses his forehead onto hers. His expression softens as the recognition appears in her eyes.
They laugh softly.
A white feather somehow finds its way behind the boy's ear. It is tucked lovingly behind a lock of wiry, blond hair. Her fingers linger on his cheek before sliding down his jaw, moving then to his lips.
He softens under the touch, obviously amused at her playing.
She laughs softly. How had he known she would be here? Did it even matter? His hand closes over hers, intertwining her cold fingers tightly with his. His eyes glance away from hers for a brief moment, looking up toward the moon. The girl couldn't help but smile at the gesture. How could he – or anyone for that matter – resist the lovely moon's gentle beckoning, especially with the lady being so full and bright on such a beautiful night?
The girl darts forward, pressing her lips suddenly against the boy's. He freezes in mid-motion. His eyes immediately flicker to hers, astonishment appearing before softening to bliss. He raises his hand to her cheek and pulls her in. The touch is warm, comforting on a cold night.
When she pulls away, he begins to speak, clumsy words beginning to form on his trembling lips. A hot blush appears on his cheeks. But without saying a word, the girl presses a finger to his lips again. She looks up again.
He understands what to do.
She smiles as they climb up each of the three shafts of metal that made up the railing. One, two, three. They stand together at the top. As they stand on the very last rail, the girl looks up at the moon again. Its silver light calls her again. His smile broadens, his hand tightens on hers. The girl holds her arms out and as she raises them, her wings lift as well. Her feathers tickle as they look up at the moon.
They jump.
Snapping into action, the combined forces of their wings yank them up into the night air and keep the children from plummeting to their deaths on the concrete below. White and black meet. Her hands reach out to him again, pressing against his pale skin. His wings respond to the movement, spinning the girl around in a slow, deliberate arc. The movement brings her that much closer.
Oh, what a beautiful night!
How forgiving the heavenly moon!
Disclaimers: Kingdom Hearts is not mine, and as such, neither are Roxas and Xion. However, the story IS mine. It was originally created for two unnamed characters of mine, but I thought it'd work just as fine for an alternate universe story for these two little Nobodies. Hence why names are not used in this piece.
Gods, this one was an interesting experiment in how much detail I could cram into one piece. As it turns out... a lot. It was almost painful. So much fluff... I think I'll go burst into flames now.
Oh, and for those wondering. Why do they have wings? Just cause. Why are white wings made fun of? Make up your own reason. I just wrote the one-shot; the reasons are up to you lovely readers. :)
Please read and review!