stardust and ashes

"You're leaving?"

Her eyes were big and round, glowing with shock and confusion as rays of the setting sun caught dimly against the mossy green. Her body was suddenly stiff, a harsh rigidness taking over her as she locked herself into a horrible defense. The wind caught her long, scraggly black hair by its ends, and it tugged and whipped and snarled against her, pleading with her softly to move toward him. But she wouldn't, he knew, and that was fine. It was better this way.

He shrugged, his eyes closing behind the thick tinted lenses of his sunglasses. He had imagined this a thousand times, but he had not expected it to be this hard. It was stupid, but he'd grown so… happy. He couldn't feel the endlessness of time here, or taste the inevitability of their demise when he was around them. It was happy. It was a gentle touch of poppy seeds against his senses to drown in the ecstasy of humanity. He'd forgotten.

"Yeah," he said, his voice colder than the whip of the wind as it lashed at his flushed cheeks. "Found out yesterday. Daddy dearest has business down in Texas. So the me, Ara, and the witch, we're heading out."

"Just like that?" Jade's glasses slipped down her nose, and her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she looked away, her bold green eyes flashing to the sky. "No warning?"

"This is the warning," Dave sighed. He would tell her if he thought it would help— but it wouldn't. She'd only be more confused, and hate him a little less, and maybe she'd look for him when she was older, and he was lost, and the world was still turning, but he was somewhere else.

"That's ridiculous," she murmured, her breath a mist that unfurled against the air. "You said… a week? And then you're gone?"

"Five days," he corrected.

"That's even worse!" Her voice was high and pitchy, scratching painfully against his ears as he heard it grow slow and raspy, and he could hear the soft sucking of breath through her old, withered lips as she drew air from a respirator. But that was years from now, and for now she was not dying. "Can't you… stay?"

I wish I could, he thought miserably. But it'd just suck anyway, 'cause you'll be going off soon, and I'll be stuck in my own damn dystopia thing going on in my head as you get old and shit, and I'm all like, NOPE, NOT MORTAL, AND THUS MY CAPABILITIES OF HUMAN MATURITY ARE NAUGHT.

"Not a chance." He leaned back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Getting out of this shithole little town is like a dream come true, Jade. I'm going to a city, I think, so that'll be exciting, you know?"

"I guess." She swallowed uncertainly, her gloved fingers suddenly flying out and tangling with his own. "You'll call, right? And don't just say you will and not actually do it, because I'll track you down, mister!"

He laughed, but only because he was bitter. He wouldn't call her. He couldn't, because he would no longer exist. She might look for him, but he would be gone, out of space and out of time, suddenly somewhere else completely, without any clue as to how to exist and function as a normal human. He wished she could understand how life was for him, a constant ticking in his head, and the scent of death stinging his nostrils every moment of every day.

"Yeah, totally," Dave grinned. She grinned back, her fingers slipping between his, and she took a step back, the wind catching her and sucking her away, tearing her from his life forever. "Hey… Jade?"

She looked back at him, her eyes dying with the sun, and she tilted her head against the snarling wind. The world creaked around them, rocking like an old house in the rage of the winter wind. The sky began to cry ice, fluffy white specks fluttering around them, licking at her raven hair and catching on her thick eyelashes.

"Yeah?" She was dead already, a body that was withering fast with every sucking breath she drew between her teeth. She would never understand how hard it was to be around people who you knew were dying from the very second their faces met the sting of air.

Dave held out his hand, which was frozen in the eyes of Chronos. She stared at it, and she laughed, her voice a short string of sighs that pushed her farther into the thin, spindly fingers of death. She took his hand, and he grasped it tightly, his heart hammering against his ribs, and he pulled her gloved knuckles to his lips, listening as she giggled in confusion and surprise.

"What are you doing?" she gasped as he stood up straighter, his fingers tightening around hers.

"If I told you something crazy," he breathed into the freezing air, "would you believe me?"

"Um…" She pursed her lips in pretend thought, and then she grinned. "Well, that depends!"

"Okay." He moved toward her, his shielded eyes blinking fast in the dying light of the evening. She watched him curiously as he pushed the hair from her face, tucking a dark tendril behind one of her ears, and he smiled sadly, desperately, because she's been his friend for years, but that was nothing to a boy who breathed time, and tasted death, and heard the screams of a billion, billion every moment of every day. She blinked in surprise as his lips touched her ear, and he stood for a moment, his certainty dwindling as he realized what he was about to do.

"Dave…"

He felt her fingers tug against his, frightful and fitful, not fully understanding the reasoning for their close proximity. The rims of his glasses clinked against hers, and his flushed cheek brushed against her own, stinging madly, hotly, and he felt her breath rattle in a foggy blight upon his skin.

"I'm a time traveler," he murmured into her ear. She felt her stiffen in surprise, and then her body began to shake as laughter built in her chest, ready to spill from her lips in a radioactive elegy. He pulled back, unable to allow her to laugh at him so mindlessly, and he laid his lips on hers, taking her laughter for his own, and listening to it choke in her throat.

He pulled her closer, her body rigid in his grasp, and warm and tiny and decomposing fast. Her lips formed words, but his could only muffle her questions and her nervousness, and he held her, his fingers tangling in her hair, and against her gloves, and her breath caught in his throat as he breathed her air and tasted her skin. She finally began to accept him, her arms circling his neck, drawing him closer and closer, and her flesh was hot beneath his lips, and beneath her heavy fleece jacket. She sighed, her breath in his mouth, and her tongue slipping against his lips. She tasted like hope, and mint, and that only masked the acidic bile that stung his taste buds, the sorrowful taste of decay.

He felt his pale hair fluttered in the furious wind, and she tugged at the blond strands, her laughter catching on his tongue. She sounded happy, her lips melding fast with his, her tongue darting teasingly at his teeth, and her fingers sliding down his neck, gripping the lapels of his jacket. He wanted to laugh too, but he was too sad, his chilly demeanor slipping through his fingers as tears prickled his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, because this wasn't fair. He wanted to die too. She was dying already, and he was stuck. No one understood, and that hurt, and she hurt, and her lips hurt, and her touch hurt, and her laugh hurt, and her eyes were too big and too bright, and she was already dying, and it just wasn't fair.

The longer they stood, the more he wanted to scream, and the happier she became. His lips caught hers, trapped them, pulled at them, and she tasted sickly, and saccharine, and startling, and she tasted like stardust. She was fading, and he was infinite, and that was so sad. But he kissed her, knowing well that if he ever saw her again, she would be strapped to a whirring machine that read her failing heartbeat like a cheerless sonnet. She was dust in the wind, soon to be dead, soon to be nothing but a memory in the mind of an ageless agelast.

He wished he could say time had stopped when he kissed her. But it didn't. Time didn't stop. That was something he had learned when he fought with the 300, and fell with the empires, and danced with queens, and decimated civilizations, and became a god amongst mortals, and dreamt with automatons, and slept with demons, and spawned changelings, and prayed with the saints, and challenged the greats. He was Dave Strider, an anomaly and a festering tumor on the surface of creation.

She was Jade Harley. Nothing but a bag of bones, dead before she could fathom life, and a kiss that he could never shake.

She'd been warned by them all never to fall in love. First by Doc, who sat her down at a tourney when a knight had asked for her favor, and told her that he would burn her sooner than he'd love her. She watched him fall from his horse, and she smiled at him, and told him he'd done well, but he never spoke to her again. Then by Damara, who had been the quiet one for as long as she could remember. Until Rufioh had stolen her away, the smiley little pirate, the smuggler who they'd trusted to betray Mother England. When Damara returned, Rufioh's blood staining her gown, and her lips, and her hands, she was nothing short of a lunatic. She dragged a young soldier from the bloody battlefield, and plopped him in front of Aradia, and she'd made things clear.

"Ara. Let me be clear." Damara took the shuddering lad by his hair, snapping his head back, and she kissed his temple with bloody lips. Aradia remembered the battle vaguely, and the red coats had lost, but she didn't understand why Damara had taken one captive. "Men are tools. Fuck them bloody. Or just fucking bloody them."

Then Damara took a carving knife from Aradia's fingers and opened the boy's throat. Aradia could only stare as the soldier's eyes grew wide, and then dim, and blood spurt from the wound on his neck, spilling across his red coat and staining it black. Aradia stood open mouthed until Dave stumbled upon them, and pulled Aradia away, shouting obscenities at Damara for subjecting her to that kind of violence. Damara had retorted that they had all seen worse, and they were in the middle of a revolution, and Dave had not wanted to listen, because he was still naïve to the world, even though he'd killed, and fought wars, and seen technology cripple humanity.

Dave had told her at last that love wasn't worth it. He didn't elaborate, but Aradia knew he'd met a girl that stayed with him through eternity, the truth to his lies, and the life to his death, but of course it could never work, and they left her. It had been a short, sad, sweet affair, and Aradia had told Dave that he had kissed Death that day, and She had taken his heart with Her tongue, and left poison in the hole where She had torn it away.

Dave had called her a creepy bitch, and wandered away for years before returning with a skull and an apology. Aradia wondered if love was what she felt for Dave, but he told her that was nothing but platonic gratification. She didn't understand that, but she pretended like she did.

She met him in a swirl of lights and a lilting swing of music. He watched her with lust in his mismatched eyes as she twirled, the beads around her neck snapping against each other in time with the roar of trumpets, and pounding of feet, and she shrieked with delight as Dave whirled her around, dipping her and clutching her, his lips thin with amusement as the lanterns caught his deadly red eyes. Her eyes glowed a similar red, a demon's gaze, a maiden's bloody stare.

The scent of cigarettes clung to him as he cut into the dance, ignoring Dave's glower as he took her in his arms, his hair slicked back carefully to show the gleam of his unique colored eyes. He winked, his grip too tight as he swung her around, her beaded dress sweeping around her knees, a bold red in the midst of the darkness that hung over the party. She giggled, playing her part, but she did not expect him to speak.

"Jeepers, doll," he drawled, his breath reeking of gin. She smiled at the way his lips fumbled at the 's' sound. "Lookin' at you makes me go goofy."

"Oh?" Aradia saw Damara watching her from some poor bent boy's lap, her dress hitched up to her garter. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" He grinned wickedly, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She slipped away from him as his fingers brushed her breasts, and she scowled at him warningly. He got the hint, and loosened up, his eyes flashing mutely in slight shame. "Ah, damn, I'm blind out of my cheaters. Sorry, doll."

He stopped, and they stood awkwardly on the dance floor, his lanky body too tall, and she craned her neck to stare up at him, here eyes trailing across his face. He was slim, but attractive, bold and flashy and gloomy and arrogant, and she liked that for some reason or another. She looked to Damara, and she saw the way her eyes trailed the boy's thin frame, and Aradia decided quickly to tug him away.

"Want to blow this thing?" she asked, not really waiting for an answer. The music faded into obscurity as her face met air, and she breathed, holding the boy's hand without really meaning or caring to. He watched her with a dazed gaze, his eyes glimmering with fascination, and his lips opening in awe, and she peered out into the abysmal night sky, her eyes catching the stars, knowing their patterning and their names, and she turned to him and began rattling off constellations, her fingers still tight around his wrist, and she pointed to the sprinkle of lights that shimmered faintly above.

"You're…" He chewed his lip, averting his eyes as he tried to fight off his drunkenness to sound half eloquent. "You're pretty smart, red."

"Not really," she admitted, her body slumping against the balcony, and a ringlet of hair slipped from her carefully pinned bob. It slid against her ear, falling long and curled at her shoulder. "I just sort of listen? I don't know. This party is a flat tire, though." No one had even gotten shot. How boring was that?

"Yeah," the boy agreed, shuffling closer. She glanced at him, and she smirked, her mind caught in the tug of time, and she grimaced then as she caught a whiff of the cigarette smoke that tainted his lungs, and she closed her eyes, letting the smell intoxicate her, letting the world drown her in the sound of his choking gasps, and wet, desperate coughs overwhelmed her. She wanted to save him, but he was already dead.

That intrigued her.

"So was that your boy?"

"Dave?" She laughed, and shook her head, breathing in the scent of his blood as it drowned him. "He's my brother."

"Good." He turned her toward him, and she quirked in eyebrow, his fingers tightening, then loosening, then tightening against around hers. "Then it'd be fine if I kissed you, right, red?"

"No," she said. He looked surprised, and she smiled. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"But…" He looked hopelessly confused, and she grinned, slipping his grasp. Poor drunken boy. A fool, really. He would die soon, though, and that made her suddenly regret this. She should not have led him outside. She should have left him to Damara. She didn't want to get hurt like her, or like Dave. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Aradia."

He smiled then, and his whole face lit up. Despite his doom being so imminent, he smiled brighter than the stars, and she looked away, her body suddenly shutting down, because this boy was so young, so full of life, and it was too awful. Men were tools, but he was just a boy. He didn't deserve to die yet.

"Aradia," he breathed. His voice wavered, and he sounded ecstatic, like a child. She wanted to scream at him then, to warn him not to leave this party, because if he did, he would die. "You, Aradia, are… you're the keenest doll I've ever seen."

"That's sweet." She looked up at the stars, her breath catching in her throat as she realized she could stop him from dying. That thought made her forget her resolve to never ever allow herself to become broken like Dave and Damara, and she looked up at the boy, her eyes big as she smiled, her eyes bright and wild and alive. She didn't have to let him die, did she? No! He could live another day. She could let him wither up like a flower, and she could visit his grandchildren, and he would see her outside his window fifty years from now, and he'd call out her name, and she'd wink at him, and flee.

She pulled him down to her by his neck, and she smiled as he stared, her lips tenderly clasping against his. He took a sharp breath through his mouth, and stole the air from her lungs, and she blinked in surprise as he took her around the waist, his arms circling her and lifting her off her feet. She felt her back slam against the rail of the balcony, and she winced, her eyes widening as he pinned her wrists above her head, his lips moving fast against hers, trailing against her chin, his tongue flitting along her jaw.

"W-what…?" She gasped as his teeth caught her ear, and she shuddered, and snarled, "Stop!"

He did. He threw himself away from her, his eyes wide. He bit his knuckles, and looked away from her, and they both gasped, and she closed her eyes, her lungs burning from the smoke on his breath. He tasted like ash, and his lips had scorched her skin where they had touched her. She bowed her head, her hands falling into her lap, and she wanted to cry, but she felt too horrible.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with a buzz, and with a lust, and he looked like he was going to cry too. "I'm so… I'm such a fucking idiot, I shouldn't've… I… ugh! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she lied. The worst thing was… she'd liked it. It scared her, because she knew it was wrong, and it would hurt her, but she couldn't help it. "Come here."

He obeyed, simply, like a dog, and she pulled him into another kiss. She sat on her knees, and he leaned over her, his long fingers tugging at the strap at her dress, but never giving into the harsh frenzy again. His breath was fiery in her mouth, and his teeth dragged on the skin of her lips, sharp and tearing, until blood dribbled down their chins. She tasted his life as it melted away, far gone after tonight, and she began to cry, salty tears pressing against their tongues, and he blinked down at her, and he pulled back, breathing against her neck.

"What's wrong, AA?" he murmured, his lips pressing against her cheek, and kissing her tears. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

"No, it's not… it's… me, I'm…" I'm sorry I can't save you.

He sighed, and pulled back. He smiled glumly, his eyes darting down to his hands. "I can take a hint," he said softly. He stood up, and he grinned bitterly. "AA, it was a pleasure. It'd swell if we did this again when I'm sober."

She swallowed a sob, and she smiled. "Yes," she said, her voice pleading with him not to go. "I… would love that… um…"

"Sollux." He leaned forward, pecking her lips with his blistering touch, and he smiled against her, and she smiled back, reaching out, her fingers catching him by his shirt. Sollux sighed. And then he left. She listened, her body shuddering against the rail, and she pulled her knees to her chest and cried until she could taste his acridness around her once more, and she realized something. He was dead. But he had always been dead. They were all dead. Some time, some place… but he was alive too.

"Sollux…" she mumbled, smiling dizzily.

The sky lightened, and the world sped forward, and Aradia laughed, her lips numb and her eyes bloody, and she grinned at heaven, which she knew did not exist, and she stood, her body rocking slowly. Death was strange. But Aradia was alive, and Sollux was dead.

She found that he preferred it this way.

A Christmas present for my moirail, Angie. =] She's the best. Also in Mexico right now, but she read it already, so it's cool.