Pseudo Inferno
Disclaimer: These characters I do not own. They are creations of Tamora Pierce. (I'm so jealous! Lolz.) A simple one shot fan-fiction inspired by my tired, frustrated, nostalgic mood.
Written in response to a challenge at the Tamora Pierce Fan Fiction Challenge. Celebrations.
Special thanks to Karmastya and Meemo – who between them, took Pseudo Inferno and So Mote it Be apart, edited them, and put them back together.
The fire danced in front of them, beckoning, intriguing. Around them, darkness gathered, yet moonlight glanced off copper and black hair alike.
His hand was warm and comforting, yet she quivered as she stood beside him. She heard his voice murmur in her ears – low, caressing, as he squeezed her hand gently.
It was time.
This was the moment she had been anticipating year after year.
She gathered a handful of her lilac silk skirt, keeping it well away from the eager flames. The fire beckoned. Her grasp on his fingers was tight – painful, even.
Together, they ran. Their footsteps echoed behind them, melding with the fire into an ecstatic rhythm around them. It was a dance, escalating higher, faster – flying out of control.
Hand in hand, they jumped. The bonfire blurred at the corner of her peripheral vision, the scorching heat mingling together with the warmth she knew was his. They were enveloped in essence of smoke, cocooning them within a world not their own. A world devoid of reality.
In that one brief second, they made their wish. In that one second, two souls merged, two voices whispered the same dream, and two hearts beat as one.
It was their moment – pure, right, and utterly perfect.
Like it was always meant to be.
Perfection.
They landed, slamming into the ground – hard, jarring, but in unison.
He chuckled lightly, holding her close for a moment, as she looked up into unfathomable, sapphire depths.
Slowly, the laughter faded. Those eyes she had come to know so well deepened as he carefully eased his lips over hers. Years of pent up passion, of yearning, of frustration – every emotion that had wrung his heart over the past years when he thought of her.
She was the first to pull away. Breathless, gasping for air, wishing every day could be a Midsummer's festival.
The dying flames reflected in his sapphire eyes. Taunting. Trapped. In their depths, she saw her past, or what could have been hers, had she not let pride and diffidence get in the way.
Nostalgia.
Memories that could have been, but never were. A future that will never be.
It was too late.
The moon waxed, growing paler by the minute, waning, as the night of the Solstice ended.
Slowly, tenderly, he kissed her once more. She felt him brush a strand of copper hair away from her upturned face – lingering, longingly.
She felt the rush of cool air that filled his place as he turned away. "Jon", she whispered, watching his silhouette slip between the trees.
He did not turn back, yet his name lingered, echoing in the wind.
A/N: How was it? Comments and reviews are appreciated!