T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
“Another wish.” Tenebrae murmurs with a smile as Elena asks for another. “You have so many.” Though he smiles, playful, a part of him is sombre in remembering how she told him to leave Terrastella and not return. There was something in the way the fae-girl said it, that was like a wish. A dark and painful one.
But here, this night, with their lips and bodies pressed together, Elena’s once banishment feels so distant. Just a bleak memory. Something has changed between them. Was it love that was able to surpass his misdeeds? Will it always be enough?
He is reckless this night and he cannot deny this girl her wishes. When she looks at him with eyes the colour of the deepest sea, she drowns him. Tenebrae sinks, willingly, swallowing down her saltwater love as if it were air. Elena is air. The monk breathes in the scent of her, the wildness of their thundering love. It runs out of control. He is out of control.
Tenebrae does not stop to think what the Order might say. He waits to be struck down by Caligo even as he touches, kisses Elena. He expects his shadows to bind shackles about his limbs, a lasso about his throat to drag him back, away from temptation. He needed something to stop him, but maybe that was the reason nothing else yet had… The only thing that could stop him is himself.
And the monk does not wish to stop. He does not think he can. Not when love blinds religion and corrupts his faith.
They dance together, through the lake, its surface the mirror of the sky above. He grants her the wish upon her tongue. He dances like this is the only time that matters with her as if the world only makes sense within this one moment.
She speaks, desiring to remember only him tonight. Her words are a whisper across his skin. He does not withdraw from her, even if he wished to. Tenebrae’s eyes close at her words. His brow presses to hers, his eyes closed. “Then let us remember only each other. We have all night.”
And Tenebrae knows the festival is too far away, the shadows too dark where they dance away, away from the crowds. He knows that tonight he is not a monk, but a man. Tonight Tenebrae is made for reckless things. Her kisses are fire across his skin. She sets him ablaze. He hungers for her light. He hungers for more too. The Disciple returns her kisses, pressing along her jaw as their dance turns to something other.
He knows he will not relinquish her this night.
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