By Hanyoukai
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Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Author's Notes: Okay, being back from hiatus (due to IB exams and utter loss of inspiration), I've mostly lost touch with writing anything at all. So here goes.
I need Tylenol.
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"I will die," he pulsates ever deliberately, glissading almost as if dissolving into the lucid skies on his back, through the desperate skin of her throat, "with dignity."
Pale lips glean one thousandth of her shame and spite, gasping mindlessly, pressed intimately as they are against the nothingness beneath her luminous veins.
Kikyou laughs, cracks, sees to calls him a fool. There exists no dignity, no grace in death, she thinks fondly, such is its vast beauty. She clutches him, nonetheless, to her empty breasts, and wraps herself around his untried soul, once coveted, tainted now by her ashes and darkness.
"Maybe," she says instead. "But later." He is still hers, now and longer perhaps.
Cloaked by the soiled perpetuity of the encompassing foliage, they tumble perilously into each other, clandestine and hopeless as the unfettered pebbles that litter the damp forest floor underneath them.
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