Isn't the moon bright tonight?
It is here, where I am tonight. And it is times like this I decide to put another piece originally intended for school to suit our demon duo.
Slightly AU, as I do believe they don't live in a world with kimonos.
Set just after Lu awakens as Diabla, Ciel is not yet Demonio, unable to fathom what to feel.
The night air is cool, pleasant against her skin, and the feeling of steady heartbeats fluttering against the palm of her frail hand. The warmth that radiates from within despite the chilling breeze, the tussles and whispers of trees soothes her soul.
It feels ethereal.
It is times like these that make her remember that there is more to this world than the ravages of demons and the promise of anguish. The gentle trickle of a thousand patter along the stony ground, entwining with one another to form a tranquilising tune long forgotten. It is a persistent one, flowing endlessly like time without ending, without change. What a pity she thinks, gracing the riverbank with the long hems of her kimono. Her neck arches towards the sky, an elegant curve under the unyilding gaze of moonlight. It shines, sending the unhurried rush of water to twirl and shimmer in an intricate dance. The reflection of the full moon ripples ever so slightly, gently reminding how easily it is lost in the times now.
Yet it was this time now, that the cherry blossoms bloom. For spring had made its entry, teasing the closed timid buds to bloom in an open embrace for the spotlight. A beautiful night, the graceful flow hinting at eternity. Yet she knows with an inaudible sigh, this is only for a moment.
A moment lost in time, because nothing lasts forever.
Her impatience is not unrivaled, it seems that the gust of wind has other things in mind as it sends pure strands of hair into a frenzy. This fast-paced dance trips the movement of the other performers, especially the disgruntled petals that trial in their wake, determined to chase to reprimand them for cutting through their routine. One particular pink blotch becomes lost, swirling still with a silvery glint into the white glow of a web. Her touch untangles this unfortunate petal, settling it on porcelain hands before directing it on its way. She feels a peace, here where there is no ferocious movement of blades, no steps that require the equal vigor of an opponent. Only the soft and subtle progressions with the cadenza, which the river so graciously provides along with nature as her only audience.
She belongs here. This, this is where she dreams.
A smile graces her lips as a fan emerges from the elaborate folds of red, gold and endless black. A swift flick and it spreads like wildfire, the flames dancing on its fabric seems alive, incredibly so under the delicate carvings of a skilled designer. Even the trees have stopped their hustle, they know when to honor a dancer with their prying eyes.
He dreams. He dreams of colours he never knew existed: blue-reds and silver-greens, translucent pinks on glowing waters. There are words he cannot fathom, drawn out lullabies and rounded clangs forming scattered verses and dancing across the black line of a riverbank. These letters shape to his will. His will shapes into wants. His wants shape into a dream, because he knows it is only for a moment. There is no room for maybe's and I wish, there is only hope. The ideal kind that only blooms on a riverbank decorating a blank black velvet.
And he sees, the silhouette that is his most divine gift.
It dances, but there is so much more. Each and every swift turn of her hand brings forward a series of red and gold and endless black. The whip of an ornate fan flashes like lightning, a wisp under the silver spotlight. The feet are clad in a pale white, every so often visible as the embroidered hems are lifted from a well pronounced lunge. White, the colour of purity, of innocence.
How it does not fit her now.
He watches on, body already unconsciously moving towards the shadow. The river, the rifts of time that separates them now. It is times like this that he remembers the world is more than a discarded splatter of red, but only when he dreams. He realises he has also forgotten, that this was what it was meant to be, what he had striven so hard to protect.
When their eyes meet, that is when he wakes. He wakes to know that she no longer dances, she is no longer a body of pure white.
Because the riverbank is always there, the eternal flow an eternal reminder for what is no longer there.
And that brings us to the end...
Perhaps this can be considered to be a prequel to Moonlight Memories.
I hope you enjoyed it, and do leave a review and tell me what you think. OwO
Sendo Erika 07.10.17