Clawed hands extend, a winter specter embracing the encroaching spring within her hands, cradling cheeks of the woman before her. She leans closer, lashes dipping over eyes as dark painted red alights upon the bridge of her nose, trailing across the swell of her cheek, the corner of mouth, until they come to phantom over the pale lips in a moment of hesitation-- contemplative-- before awed whisper escapes her.
'โโโ You're beautiful. '
Thumb brushes the softness of steel that shields the ever enclosed gentleness that resides within Sephiroth's core. A girl that wishes only for a peace denied by the world she's been brought into, where instead there is only the bitter cold of disinfected walls and reports scratched onto paper. The incessant drone of equipment and the soft weeping nights when everything crumbles and slips between fingers like grains of sand, into the lonely hours of the night when no one can hear them. A world that reminds them of their inhumanity, yet what she's found within her angel was something far more precious than could ever be held by mortal hands. Untouchable, yet hands of ivory have found themselves delving into the cavity of her chest to cradle her tragedy, and recognize that ardent desire to be loved.
Silvery crown cants, bated breath relinquished as the smooth scales of palm press against Sephiroth's cheek in comforting affection ( how rare the ministrations must be, but with her they find themselves abundant ). Her other hand falls to her shoulder, steadying herself against the other. A smile draws itself across painted lips, pale gaze lifting just enough to find themselves sequestered away into Sephiroth's own, a supernova of unspoken emotion that resides between them.
' You know that, right?' She breathes, horned head gently pressing against hers, noses brushing with a soft laugh. ' Beautifulโ '
I love you. I love you. I love you.
๐ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฌ๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐๐ฒ๐ฌ ๐๐ญ ๐๐๐จ๐ง๐ฒโ๐ฌ ๐๐๐๐ญ. โ i brought you this, โ sheโs saying. it is an act of love. hers is violent,ย it comes hot and fast. it is the teeth bearing down into the fragile neck of prey,ย or a car crash,ย the head - on kind where someone gets thrown through the windshield and lay half - naked and half - suspended in glass,ย and the lightless eyes of that woman stare at the driver,ย right at them. sephiroth saw this happen once, not in wutai but on the sticky midgar pavement in the middle of summer. there was horrid traffic and no - one knew why until her vehicleโย with its shaded windows and government platesโย crawled past the scene of the collision. public safety officers in their blueish uniforms waved them by and if she craned her neck from the back seat just so,ย she could see the wreckage. she saw the dead woman and her exposed chest and the blood flecking her white face and thought only that she was the crash, and the corpse, and the voyeur. it comes as a shock to her: the singularity of her desire, the enormity of it.
night - cold hands slip around sephirothโs jaw and a shiver skitters down her spine. there is a mouth pressing against every sensitive junction of flesh: nose, lips, where they come to rest. ebonyโs breath is warm against her lips, slightly parted, just enough that she can taste something ferrous lacing the acidic sting of coffee. ash - colored lashes flicker, the heat of a still - living body reigniting in her neck and cheeks. she remains silent,ย her tongue suspended in the space between the soft palate and the bottom row of teeth, useless and lost. some god has reached down her throat and stolen her voice.
naรฏve as the heart may be, she is no fool. the way people look at her, peeling away clothes and skin until all that is left is the warmth of her insides, which is what they wanted, anyway; the twitching hands and wet mouths; sephiroth knows she is desired. she is to be eaten. that makes it no easier to swallow the soft admission. from the moon - pale thing in her arms, it becomes heavy, thick as winter sap. it gets trapped in her throat on the way down.
finally freed, her voice comes in a flutter of white wings. โ you flatter me. โ the very corners of her mouth upturn, reaching her eyes, which are half - closed and covered in a heavy film that makes them impenetrable, almost unseeing. desire clouds her vision.
nocturnal pupils bloom to two, three times their size, soaking up the pale light that beams from ebonyโs face, partially in her own shadow, and the white crown of her head. โ i look at you and i seeโ, โ an angel? god? the rest of her life,ย at least the part worth living, lily - white in devotion. different from the viciousness of her own love, which struggles to express itself tenderly. instead, there is always blood in her mouth. sephirothโs head cants into the palm against her cheek, seeking touch, her mouth moving of its own accord, โ something dear to me. something precious. beautiful, too. โ
and she is, devastatingly so. whatever had been done to her is secondary to her beauty, which is, to her, the soft, classical kind. ebony fits against her as a maiden straight from antiquity, with the downy halo of her colorless hair and the dollish face that looks out from under the weight of her horns. sephiroth is made small and helpless before her. language is its own cage. i love you pushes on the backs of her teeth but cannot make itself heard,ย so the body speaks for her.ย slipping below the waves of ebonyโs skin,ย bare hands slip around a narrow waist and settle at the pleasant divot at her lower back, right above the point where her tail sprouts from the bone. fingers curl there, bunching up in layers of fabric, as though that alone could remove it. her head pitches forward and lightly into ebonyโs own, curls spilling over her shoulders until it is as though the moon itself had poured a bath over them. all is white. they are so close their flesh could meld together. a head - on collision, in slow motion.
then, a girl pleads: โ never leave.ย please. โ
