My lover and I, we wait for nights like this.
After torrential downpours have loosened the ground's grip and we rise from the dusty earth and into the pale moonlight. We cannot see, but we know our bodies have changed, but neither stop us as we manage to find ourselves in each other's arms. My broken ribs rest against his cracked sternum while he traces over the crack on my skull, fractured into thousands of ridges and flecks of bone.
They thought that death would separate us. They thought binding our legs to the backs of horses and dragging us, alive and screaming, down a back country road would put an end to our love. They felt we deserved to be punished for our sins, for our crime against humanity. We were to be examples for others who thought to follow our path. But we were martyrs for love, for one man could not love another.
Our hands were clasped as our skin tore against the road. Our hands were clasped as our flesh became bloodied and bruised against the ruts in the road. Our hands were clasped as our shattered fractured against rocks. Our hands were clasped as our ribs bruised, broke, and punctured our lungs. Our hands were clasped as we whispered 'I love you' and our eyelids became heavy and our souls rose, free from the pain of our battered bodies. Free from ignorance, intolerance, and prejudice.
Now we sway in the ashen light to death's bittersweet sonata in the rain that has calmed to mist filled with memories I can't shake. I can still feel my waist being pinned to the clammy ground while a knife flashed under the torch lights and they decided to take the only part of me I had left to give. I can picture the mob swarming onto my lover, pulling at his silver hair while he was stripped, bound, and cut. Red is the color of stolen dignity and violence.
Although we have each other, time still holds us hostage. For come sunrise, the earth will beckon us back and our bare bones, which have resisted becoming dust will one day disintegrate. I await the day when our souls will no longer be bound to the earth. It is then we will be free.
Thanks for reading. I don't own Sailor Moon, but something tells me you knew that already. This was written from Zoisite's point of view, as it was probably hard to figure that out. Major thanks to my co-author and proof-reader on this, SomeoftheFame.