The world centred and then it was off, an explosion propelling it away and painting a trail across blackened halls; rainbows of spectrums without name. A journey both long and short—for time prattled on incomprehensibly—found us lost in a sea of blue and lilac respectively. Had it really been that long? Had it really happened so fast? Surges of tightly coiled emotion rolled over us, a glimpse of her passion; my sea bleeds red and fire dances upon our skin. It does not smoke, nor burn, nor heat; though we are not cold: our masses intermingle and become one.
A cough sounds nearby and the world shatters beneath us; rebuilt in garishly mundane colour and sense. Her face painted a subtle red to match her eyes, my breath caught in my throat we turn as one.
We run.
The mad old crone caws at our heels but doesn't give chase, it's a journey—just short this time—but we escape intact through gates of iron and into columns of steel. The stars our steady companion until they're blotted by artificial light. I'm lost, she's not; we're not.
Scenery changes and soon we're elsewhere; somewhere even more vibrant. Sound pumps out of the walls and inebriated masses writhe disjointedly. It makes me uncomfortable, I say as such. A silvery laugh washes over me melting my unease, I trust her. She gets drinks, vile concoctions that I suffer with only few splutters.
We join the inebriated masses, writhing disjointedly as time becomes finicky and fickle once more. At some point here or there I lose track of her, she's disappeared into a swarm of bodies. An arduous task but I fight my way out of the writhing flesh and splayed limbs, searching. Touches of blond dance in the corner of my eye, ghostly memoirs lead me onwards, backwards, towards her.
Chains of fair skin encircle me. I do not struggle against my fleshy bonds, I recognise them. Turning into the embrace I return the favour and we meet again.
Everything dims, we're alone; sound or heart pulsing in my ears. Sensations in flavours I'd never experienced dance upon my skin, rain upon my heart. The moment is heated, more desperate than before; claws raking at each other's bodies. It becomes almost unbearable, a heat we need to vent. Our bodies, far redder than before, separate for a moment. Our eyes rove the other's body until they meet and we consent.
A final journey, far too long for our tastes but finally complete. An isolated room, an encapsulated world consisting of us, we meet again briefly on our way to the bed. Clothes litter the floor by the time we part. A final searching look is exchanged; we find each other ready.
We join.
I wake; she's gone. I'm lost.
"So how do you like your eggs?"
AN: So hopefully I've managed to format this in a way that doesn't look retarded while capturing the disjoint in the final scenes. Anyway, sorry for not writing Burning of Arc, I've been pretty lazy with it. I've also been getting fed up with my current writing style so here's me trying something just a bit different; it doesn't really have as solid an application in longer pieces though. So tell me what you think about it, good, bad, complete dicks?