Constellation
Lupo knows a lot about stars.
She knows that, instead of romantic things, made by the lovers, the stars are balls of elements fused together by the grip of gravity. She knows that there are special, Lupo has decided not worth looking at the gloss or glamor that upon them.
Bertha knows very little about the stars.
She does not know why they shine in the mantle of the night sky, is perhaps the final moments of a star that's been dead a long time. She does not know the science of life or spiritual life. She will not admit that he died in racoon city. And not to speak, and ruin the beauty in the eyes of Lupo.
Bertha knows very little about the love.
She does not know which is the warmth of an embrace of a mother (which suppressed the memory of his mother and his death, leaving the old wound from spreading and infecting to in it). She does not know which is the caress of a man, she does not know which are the timid eyes of a schoolgirl. She does not know the importance of a great first kiss (never mind that he never received). She does not even know the full meaning of a wink, or hips swaying and singing voice (which suppressed the memory of their allies, because instead of seeing them die, she had pulled the trigger, she had killed them.)
Lupo know much about the love.
She knows they are the embraces of a mother known to be safer. She knows that a fall in love, is like planting a seed, only needed to be cared for properly and given proper attention before flowering with a deeper meaning. She knows the importance and greatness of a first kiss (and, as such, it has not given). She knows what it meant in the eyes of a suitor and his lips, when to smile and when to attack (although it has only happened once and only once, thanks to Spectre).
Lupo knows very little about life.
She does not know the joys of the flesh (never felt the need to surrender. Her grandmother had taught him that the greatest pleasures are in the mind, not the body). She does not know which is the sound of laughter of a baby (she was afraid the children due to their fragility and innocence, and she could not stand being around something so pure). She does not know (she does not remember) playing games for girls, nor is it known why play with them.
Bertha knows very little about life.
She has seen life through the windows of his room. She never played with other girls, and girls should. She does not regret his birth, does not regret being born as it is. She does not regret losing their childhood, and she does not regret the decisions he has made. Maybe when she is older, when she was a little wiser, she would regret, but the future is something we know very little Bertha.
Lupo knows a lot about death.
She knows the feeling of dried blood under her fingernails (a kiss, the majority of others). She knows it's the sound of bones crunching as she treads heavily smashing the skull of a soldier. She knows it's the smell, touch, the art of death. She knows she has approached several times, thousand times, yet there is always someone who dies in place. (His mother, father, grandmother, all dead, because he knew.)
Bertha knows a lot about death.
She has seen the collapse of entire cities, has been massacred and killed people and animals feeding on them. She has seen the children loaded on trucks and in the depths of hell.
They know many things. And they know nothing.
Bertha Lupo teaches about the stars (and Bertha Lupo teaches about these changes). Bertha speaks of death and life, and Lupo stays quiet and offered a shoulder to mourn when the memories were too hard and too brutal for Bertha.
Lupo said nothing of life and death, until one night gave Bertha open wounds and scars (burning flesh and the blood) and instead of breaking, as Lupo thought it would, back wing decline. Bertha is the voice of the listening, persuasion of pain and grief. Lupo is the shoulder on the falling memories, memories with her, and, finally, finally, helps to heal the wounds.
It's a night, so similar and so different at the same time, they learned of true love.
Lupo looks in the center of their memories and say goodbye to your family. She says goodbye to the memories she has clung desperately. Bertha has the hand, fingers intertwined, and is silent and speaks Lupo.
Then.
"Do you know the importance of a first kiss?"
Lupo looks down and catches the eyes of Bertha. "What is the importance of a kiss?"
Bertha smiles. "It's sacred to a child. They say their first kiss is the first time I trust someone other than your family, your body, fully and completely."
"... It is only the lips," said Bertha, honestly confused. "How is trust someone who has the largest lips?"
Bertha changed and tightened with greater force the hand of Lupo, cupping his cheek in the palm of your free hand. Lupo, at first, flinches away from contact, but then relaxes a bit.
And then they kiss.
Bertha's lips loose and unresponsive at first, Bertha feels pressure within and below your heart and fears she may have just committed a very serious mistake and then you move with Lupo careful and timid. Bertha moves away and she's out of breath.
They are silent.
Lupo looks at the stars.
Falls into place, aligning perfectly Lupo sees for the first time since she was a child, a constellation. The grandmother had described the meeting of the stars and the symbol of hope.
And then she looks down and kisses her again Bertha, kissing firmer. Bertha was a bit uncomfortable, but it melts.
It is the first time Lupo said goodbye to his past, and hello to the future.
When you drop back, share a look, share a laugh. His hands are clasped again breathless, insecure and afraid.
It is the first time they've kissed another being, and the first time we have trusted no doubt in anyone else.
They have no home to return to actually slip on safety and the comforting presence of nature and embrace them.
Bertha may feel to be looked at (the strange sensation of having another set of eyes settling on the back of your body) Lupo looking, looking into the woods, watching the stars. And the words are repeated.
"With you, it may not be so bad."
It is the first time an inner peace between them, is the first time they have recognized the place where the soul of Bertha and welcomed. Just to be near ...
His kisses are deliciously caste, like sips of wine, like the steps slowly under the rain of summer or the heartbeat of a child.
It is the first time Lupo drops a final barrier, the barrier between them and the world.
There is a symphony that surrounds them, the noise rise and fall, the wind as the driver, blades of grass.
It is the first time that Bertha has felt the hand of another person on his own, stripping the clothes.
I should be ashamed ...
It is the first time I let someone else Lupo touch your heart.
But ... When I'm with you.
It is the first time that Lupo has seen Bertha with her hair down, a cascade of light blonde waves, white tinged with supernatural light of the moon.
It feels like I'm drowning.
It is the first time that Bertha has seen with her hair down Lupo, bronze and copper waves flowing outward, the soft lines curl around your fingers as you pass your hands through it.
No. .. say those things.
It is the first time that Bertha has touched the scars on the back of Lupo. She fondly trace in the memory of each mark, each, and closing her eyes as the tears fall.
It makes me feel like I could lose ...
It is the first time that Lupo was allowed to play that way. Bertha's fingers pain relief, even temporary relief may be forever.
And I ...
It is the first time that Bertha feels bare skin bare skin against each other, as it nears for another kiss.
Do not want to lose ...
It is the first time Lupo looking at someone's eyes and sees nothing but acceptance.
Do not worry ...
Is the first time that do not require words.
I'm not going to leave.
It is the first time in a dance move, so different from the dance of death that have known for so long.
There is a hug and the wind calls for a crescendo, the nature persuaded the stars to shine more and more to be brighter until there a million lights shining around them.
It is the first time that Bertha throws her head back in abandon, breathless.
More than a thousand words.
One thousand confessions.
It is the first time that Lupo close your eyes and ask and pray for something I can not describe.
A thousand memories.
A thousand nightmares.
Is the first time...
A thousand possibilities.
Thousand beginning.
It is the first time ...
Thousand uncertainties.
Thousand terminations.
It is the first time no longer.
The wind strikes a chord end.
The symphony is more.
They know a lot about things. And they do not know much about some things.
Perhaps they know much about anything.
But that's enough.
END.