Happy Thursday, guys! Here, have a new and angsty kiss!
A Kiss At The End Of The World
Serenity screamed. She couldn't help it. He'd told her to be quiet but the boom was so loud she couldn't keep it in, she shrieked and held her ears and fell to her knees and Endymion yanked her up, shouting at her to be quiet even louder than she'd screamed, and dragged her after him across the floor with eyes that looked more frightened than the panic she even felt herself.
Her world was burning, her lungs were whistling pitifully with the effort to breathe, the Moon Palace one giant flame of destruction. Smoke was filling her view and her body, blackening the sweat-drenched silks of her gown and burning in her throat and her eyes, and she knew for a fact they could not hide here any longer.
She would have been long dead had Endymion not run for the danger to sneak her out. The first explosion, disturbing the peace and dead of night with the force of a sonic boom, had taken her chambers. Had Endymion not deserted his own people, fleeing just to rescue her, she would have been the first casualty of this war. And she knew she was still its most wanted target.
He knew it too. His shaking fingers and wet, manic eyes spoke of nothing else as he pushed her forcefully, brutally into corners, hiding her with his complete body like a crazed, frightened animal sheltering their young.
But where they were going, there were no more corners or walls to back her into.
They'd hid in the smoke as long as they could, but if they didn't leave now, they would suffocate, filled with black poison long before the flames could take them or the rubble could bury them.
The castle was no more; a dead, screaming ball of flame, surrounded completely by a people possessed by hate; the lust to kill shining in seduced eyes. They thought they were right. They thought it was their right. Her death was a promise they'd learned to yearn for; it came with lies of a better world for them, a world where they'd be more important than they felt.
The only way out was over burning stone bridges designed not to shroud anyone's path, right through masses of people that wanted her slaughter.
Endymion ripped the cloak off a man's dead body; contorted in death with his hands grabbing at his frail old throat, and wrapped her in it, drawing its hood over her head to hide her away, then cradled her and dragged her out. It made breathing even harder and sweat run like tears from her body.
He turned back to her just in view of the gates, pushing his hands into her hood, shaking her dirty face and leaning in with panicked eyes.
"I'm going to get you out of here," he cried at her, eyes wild. "I promise. I'm going to keep you safe. We'll survive this."
It was a lie. They both knew it was. But they had no other choice but to try and believe it.
She didn't nod. She didn't say yes. She couldn't lie to him. Instead she yanked at him and he fell into her.
His lips hit hers violently, harshly. Bruised and smokey and chapped and shaking in terror. She sucked him in as if she could keep him like that, and he did the same to her.
They kissed like it was their last kiss because it was; crying and desperate and hungry for life. They clung.
She was still clinging, gripping his hand so tight she must have cracked the bone, when he pushed the gates open and ran out with his sword raised in one hand.
They ran out screaming, hand in hand.
Obvious Setting Tag: Silver Millennium
I'm… sorry?