A Memory of Things to Come
Scene 1, Act 1
A Memory of Things to Come
One thought about it...
Strange how warm it feels, having so much on the ground. Knowing there wasn't much time left, not being able to do much other than stare at the night sky.
Contentment, a one's thankful feeling, that dimming eyes weren't staring at the same patch of dirt that was currently soaking up the blood.
How did I manage to get here?
Am I dreaming?
Is this really the sound of a dying heart?
This was the result of one's failure, a failure of conquering the inner self.
For that reason, one lies here upon the cold earth.
Beautiful you are tonight, Luna. Thank you for being full at this particular point in time.
Or should I thank the one that laid me to waste instead?
What a joke, thanking the very thing that put me here!
I must be dying...
...
What? Did I drift off?
...damn.
The moon even shifted positions.
Why aren't I dead yet?
Eyes focused in on movement, a movement across the moon herself.
Strange, it... seems to be growing... larger?
The closer the image got, the more detail was distinguishable.
A person? Wait... why is it flying...? Visual hallucinations? This must truly be the end...
It wasn't long before the 'visual hallucination' was hovering over that mangled body.
A smile...? Looking over me...? The predatory gaze of a lioness...
"Look at you."
A female's voice?
"Such a waste."
...throaty, almost purring...
"It's rather karmic to find you laying here."
...without a doubt feminine in nature...
An attempt to speak, but nothing happens.
Breathing... shallow, fast.
Something of critical importance to speech seems not to be working.
A single finger is then placed upon wordlessly moving lips.
Slender, slightly chilled.
"Speak not, for you cannot. Speak within yourself, speak within your mind. I'll listen intently."
Are you mocking me? You can hear me even now?
"Of course, I heard your monologue while I was crossing the Moon and Stars."
My monologue...
A silent chuckle suddenly strikes; a broken body seems to still be able to reflect the semblance of humor.
Who are you? What are you?
She smiles again, those teeth... so brilliantly white, dangerous, and oddly comforting.
Yes... such beautifully deadly looking canines. A quick death, no more suffering.
May I upset you, creature? Will you devour me, then?
"You're delirious; you don't have much time left to live. Your heart is far gone; pumping something so empty causes much damage."
Kill me, then. Make it quick for me.
She laughs! Deep, throaty laugh, of all the women in the world, at such a strange time... one finds her sound so very beautiful. She leans down; one can see her smile even more clearly, those eyes, such deceptively warm eyes, the eyes of a huntress, the coloration of light emerald and misty grey.
Mock me still, do you?
"I'm going to make you an offer, darkling of mine. You boldly welcome death, you do not beg for life. You sought out life, but never begged for more than what was your fate even in death. So I give you a choice. Seek death with me or find life thereafter."
Her breath is upon that chilled skin, she smells of cinnamon and honey. A shiver, a clear bodily reaction to such closeness a desire to be near her, closer to her, a broken body that aches with that sole desire to survive.
Yet here is that smile... my smile. A smile that will always have a third option.
How can I conquer the world, if I cannot conquer myself?
Narrowed eyes, much like the eyes of a cat when dilate.
She is pleased.
"Good answer."
Biting her tongue, one is forcefully kissed.
Vitae.
Sweet, like honey, savory, like cinnamon and with what strength was left; the unbroken arm is lifted, only to find itself wrapped around her.
As one drank, the warmth filled that broken body and that broken body slowly slipped into the unknown, an unknown were only her scent filled his dying existence.