Hijo De La Luna
By SMYGO4EVA
Even in the darkest of nights and the brightest of days, he still saw her. In the
Téa Gardener, the beautiful dancer.
She was everything Ryou Bakura dreamed of, to even see such an angel in his presence was so confusing. He wasn't worthy of her appearance and even of his own reality.
She danced like no one else could, her features shifting and coalescing with the moon's spotlight, conjuring Selene until dawn. Her tears would pierce her eyes, silver flesh embossing lullabies from unshed sorrow.
The love she bore for another is killing her inside, as she repetitively rocked back and forth in her godly movements. The horizon of the sun fails her, since she is one with the moon.
The moon was born white, platinum with chocolate eyes instead of cold gray. He was running with her, the goddess of dance, the only expression of her feelings. When she twirled, she was happy. When she dipped, she was sad. It was like grasping heaven itself, the emotions that make her human.
He had emotions too. He didn't show them much, since the darkness repelled human feeling, and darkness never found a love. The mass pretending to be something in existence meant nothing to feelings: it held nothing. Only black nothingness.
She cried for love.
He wanted to be loved.
She danced for affection.
He witnessed affection.
She danced for the moon.
He saw the dancer.
The fears….
The lies….
Love was something tainted and pure.
Dancing was both of those things.
The moon was coalesced amongst those.
The little angel….
The silver moon….
Shrouded in mystery in the dances….
Are you sure?
Are you sure, little Ryou?
Are you sure, dear Téa?
Are you sure you are not the dancer
Are you sure you are not the moon?
Are you sure it's her?
Are you sure it's him?
Dancers bruise easily.
The moon is sought after frequently.
They'll never survive the heartbreak.
Never ever.
Not even Luna would make it through without the antithesis of life.
Never.
(Inspired by "Hijo De La Luna" by Sarah Brightman)