Title: We Were Born To Die
Raiting: M
Disclaimer: 18+ This story depicts descriptive sexual acts and may contain adult content not suitable for most adults.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long since my last update, between the perpetual cycle of looking for work so I can continue to be broke that rages on and my lack of inspiration to write has be at a loss for the story. I hope to get back in the swing and crack out a few more chapters the next few days for this and Possession. This is a bit more dialogue then usual but I'm satisfied and it will help lead in to the events to come. Thank you so much for the continue growing amount of people finding this story and adding it to their Favorites and Alerts. You guys fucking rock!(Reviews Are Always Appreciated)
Nira opened her eyes finding herself lying in Tate's arms, their legs intertwined as her head rested on his chest. Her body was clean of all evidence of the events that had transpired in the early morning hours. She lifted her hand lazily, glancing over the smooth skin of her hand, now fully healed from the abuse from the flames.
"You confuse me."
The voice broke through the silence and concentration that had consumed Nira.
"You spent all night trying to save your sisters, yet you fuel him to inflict the same pain on to others."
Nira looked over Moira who was now young again. "It's my nature, you'll never understand, Moira. You and me, we're not even the same species. I used to be you, until I evolved. From where you're standing, you're pure and innocent.
Moira rolled her eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed by Nira. "Hardly."
"Compared to me?"
Nira's comment silenced Moira.
"Murder? It's pure and natural. You're the one who made it impure."
"Murder is a ghastly and unspeakable act…"
Nira caught off Moira, "It's just murder. All God's creatures do it. You look in the forests and you see species killing other species, our species killing all species. We rape and pillage the earth around us, we just call it industry though, not murder."
Moira crossed her legs, letting it slowly, seductively draw up her leg. "So the gruesome murder of your sisters was a justifiable act then, their deaths and miseries are pure?" Her words cooed with venomous poison.
Nira sprang like a cat, she had pounced Moira off the bed, pinning her back on the hard wood floor they had just slammed onto. "This world is filth and destruction; nothing will stay pure and innocent. Those girls were too good and not meant for this world."
Moira's eyes widened in horror. "You're not saying… You simply can't be that delusional to compare their deaths to that of a Martyr."
"Martyrs are exceptional people. They survive pain, they survive total deprivation. They bear all the sins of the earth. It is truer to say that martyrs create faith more than faith creates martyrs."
Nira moved aside allowing Moira to adjust herself and sit up.
Moira sighed, "So is that how you perceive it, your brewing Romeo will be a Martyr to your cause of death and destruction.
Nira was getting frustrated now, her eyes glowing a haunting red, tinted in the black orbs. "Tate is only a victim. Just as the others who have and will continue to die at our hands."
Moira felt like a fly being lured into the web of death. The room was still, the energy thick, silence encompassed them.
"It's so easy to create a victim, Moira, so easy it's ridiculous. You lock someone in a dark room. They begin to suffer. You feed that suffering. Methodically, systematically and callously. And make it last, really make the suffering endure. Your subject goes through a number of states, more then I care to name. After a while, their trauma; that small, easily opened crack, makes them see things that don't exist, not in the realm where most reside, anyways."
"Were you always this, unhinged?" Moira's voice shuddered as the words came out showing how afraid yet transfixed she was on everything Nira said.
"No, in death I have transcend to a new plain of enlightenment. This house has transfigured me and continues to do so at an extraordinary rate."
Nira had changed; she could feel it deep inside. The fear and confusion that had ruled her short existence had paralyzed her, taking control of her being. It was the same fear that fueled her self destruction and made her run away from Tate.
She stood up looking over his sleeping form. His bangs draped over his face, body sprawled out over the bed. He had that same angelic look from sleep her sisters had the night they died, she wondered if she to had the grace to be blessed with such a divine glow before her untimely demise.
She reached out languidly running her fingers down his jaw, the warmth of his skin radiating under her cold, clammy touch. "I will admit I never expected to feel anything like this."
Moira brushed off her skirt as she stood up. "Dare I ask what?"
"Love."
Moria snickered, "The only thing you love, if you can even call it that, is your compulsive need for each other."
"Your wrong, our need comes from the love." Nira was brushing the hair from his face, lost gazing down on him.
"How can you say you love him and know in a few hours he will be dead?"
Nira smiled, "Till he and I die, and die, and die again, no matter what we will always be destined to be together. It's fate, you know. Nobody can stop fate, nobody can."