Disclaimer: I own nothing.
This is just a one-on thing that hit me while listening to some music. The lyrics–which were, by the way, from Raistlin and the Rose, by Lake of Tears–that inspired this go:
Only now,
only now does he know
silver doom,
unseen moon will show
As they dance under the moon
they bring doom
he calls her friend
and says he'll change
she calls him friend
and he deceives again
Hope ya like.
There are a lot of metaphors in here, see if you can find them all.
Dancing In The Dark.
She sat, alone, in the shadows next to the tent, her arms hugging her white-robed knees to her chest, her face tilted to the sky, her eyes watching the thin crescent of the silver moon, Solinari, sail slowly across the dark skies, his now-weak light reflecting in her grey eyes, turning the dove irises to purest silver. A gentle, cool, night breeze flitted through the trees, tugging back her white hood, blowing her black hair into her silvery eyes, the only spots of light in the darkness, besides the far-off celebrations of the camp. She did not go to the banquets: the presence of the 'witch' would harm Caramon immensely. She smiled at the Platinum Dragon in the skies, smiled with a touch of wistful bitterness.
She heard the music of the night, so much more restful than the clanging music of the day. She heard, for the first time it seemed, the secret whisper of the night wind in the leaves, the hollow cry of the owl, echoing deep into the night, the rushing of the stream, the river, normally silent during the day, ringing in the dark silence. Solinari was but a mere glint in the sky, Lunitari was absent from the heavens. She, however, heard the dark, whispered secret of the dark moon as Nuitari hovered, unseen, between the plains of the immortal and those of the mortal. All these blended into a gentle, soft, comforting song that soothed Crysania into a restful doze. She saw the shadows, and her sleepy mind turned back to Him.
Raistlin.
Closing her eyes, tilting back her head, the Revered Daughter of Paladine breathed deeply from the night air, shivering in spite of herself. She could see his white-skinned hand, resting on hers, the delicate, slender, gentle, burning fingers touching the cool skin of her own hand. She could see his eyes: both of them, the forbidding, golden hourglasses, and the cold, brown, mirrorlike irises. She saw all these, and her blood burned, not unlike his touch.
Sighing, she slipped into a gentle sleep, lost in her dreams.
---------------
Raistlin sat at his studies, smiling slightly, his thin body hunched over the table, his cold eyes scanning his work. He had figured out the words to a difficult spell, and he was pleased with the results. Closing his eyes briefly, yet not that tired, Raistlin rose from the table and stepped out into the night.
Moving silently through the shadows, Raistlin lifted his eyes to the Platinum Dragon and the Five-Headed Dragon, regarding both with a slight sneer on his thin lips. His plans, though far from complete, were progressing perfectly, with few minor setbacks that were quickly . . . corrected.
Moving quietly, Raistlin glanced towards the forest. No one was coming through there. Good. And his fool idiot of a brother was busy drinking too much ale and playing inane games with his allies. Fools, all of them fools. But that was neither here nor there.
Turning, he moved towards Caramon's tent, where he had left a map that he wanted to look at, he caught sight of Crysania, sleeping.
She was pressed against the side of the tent, her robes knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, her head back, resting against the cloth of the tent. The black light of Nuitari shone on her hair, causing it to gleam like liquid obsidian as the wind blew several stands across her marble face. Her eyes were closed, the thin sliver of Solinari lighing upon her lashes.
She was so beautiful that Raistlin just stood in the shadows, watching her silently. Then he moved forward to stand in front of her, still hidden in darkness. This close, he could see the light-the dark light of Nuitari, the slight silver light of Solinari, the twinkling starlight-reflecting in her tears, tears that glittered like diamonds on her lashes and shone like black pearls upon her cheeks.
Long he stood, watching her. Minutes seemed like hours, milennium, the seconds slipping through his fingers like the grains of so many sand.
She stirred suddenly, her senses awake and warning that someone was there. Half-opening her eyes, she stared at the black-robed figure before her in silence, for he seemed more like a part of her dreams than real life.
"Revered Daughter." Raistlin's cool voice broke through her thoughts, assuring her that he was, indeed, real. Moving nearer, he surveyed her silently, with calm, cold eyes, then spoke, "I was on my way to check a map from my brother's tent when I noticed you. I hope you are well."
She nodded, almost fully awake, barely hearing him, not catching the touch of bitter, cynical sarcasm in his tone. Stepping closer, she regarded him with silvern eyes that drew his own to them, against his will. "I am well."
He nodded: the hood rustled slightly, up and down. Her eyes were drawn to his, and she found herself wondering what lay beyond the cold mirrors of his.
Shaking her head slightly, she did not notice that he drew nearer. Lowering her head, she put a hand to her tired eyes,then looked up slightly,seeing Raistlin's eyes on her own. Inexplainably, she drew a bit nearer, until she could have twiched a finger and it would have brushed his robes.
Raistlin looked at her, at the face so near his own. A warmth, a fire that rose within him, threatening toconsumehim. Yet he did not pull away. Reaching out a robedarm, he put it gently around her waist. She stepped a little closer, a little more than half asleep, and, not realizing what she was doing, unconciously raised her arms around his thin shoulders.
Leaning closer, she placed her other arm around his shoulders as well, desperately wanting the terrible fire she could feel within him to burn away the ice within her. He placed his other arm around her waist, feeling her coolness soothe his fiery warmth, and they pulled reflexavely together.
Slowly, holding Crysania, not truly sure of what he was doing, Raistlin began to slowly circle, Crysania circling with him. Silently they danced, each holding the other, each tired, each longing, in a distant part of the soul, for the other.
Making no sound other than the whisper of robes, hers purest white, his darkest black, they danced for what seemed hours, years, centuries unending. Beneath the unseen moon they danced, just a gentle, slow, circle. Crysania laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes against the midnight robes. Raistlin lifted his eyes, staring at Nuitari in silence.
At last, they drifted apart. He loosened his hold on her, while at the same time she loosened her hold on him. They drifted away, she to her tent, he to his.
All the while, the dark moon whispered silently across the skies, seeing all.
Well . . . what do you think???
Please review.