He is sleeping now. His hair is spread over the pillow. The tangled web of dark silk. One lock have accidentally wrapped around my fingers. I don't remember how had it happened. It's weird though. Have I dozzed off before? Although... It's slowly turning into a habit - to lose the border between the reality and the dream. I don't mind. It's fine. Everything is fine as long as I can watch him like this. So close. There's no need to deny - I've been dreaming about this for years. I've never hope. I was sinking into my rescuing delusion. But reached neither calm no happiness there. So I can state rather surely: it's anything but a dream. I'm completely unable to imagine something like this. The safety. The warmth. The world where we are a team. We are partners. Although if he ordered to stay master and slave I'd gladly accept it. But he didn't... And... One more thing. Never ever in any dream I could imagine him looking like this. So... Young. And a kind of vulnerable. Honestly... I thought he would stay rigorous even in his sleep. Seeing him like this is painful. I want to lock him in my arms. To press him to my chest. To protect him. To cover him from the entire world. I've dreamed about other things. Other roles. But. It's not a dream. Not like I'm disappointed. I just have no idea what to do with this too-good-to-be-true reality.
His lashes shiver. Too easy to be drowned into these marbel ponds. The darkest marbel. So rare. So...
- Why don't U sleep? Are U hungry?
He always asks me if I am hungry.
I'm nodding. I don't mean to. I'm nodding to my thoughts. Without realizing. Because to see him watching me... To hear his voice talking to me... It's still overwhelming. And...
I have to answer him. I need to answer him. I have to say I'm not hungry and there's no need to go to the kitchen as he often does in such cases. He takes my hand, leads me to the kitchen. And begins to cook. He is not an expert. He can make only daily meal. But I don't feel any taste. Until he does our ritual. He puts the bowl in front of me. Waits untill I make some bites. Then narrows brows and takes my spoon. In especially good days he takes it with my hand. He tries the meal. Nods. And brings the other half left on the spoon to my mouth:
- It's kinda fine. Eat. U need to eat, little moth.
Then he always takes his spoon. (Spoons... It was not so long ago. But feels like a couple of eternities pass since we were in...a different place. Where spoons weren't a table serving.) And joins me with one bowl for the two of us. And the meal turns into the most enchanted treat...
I need to answer. I'm trying to make my lips move. But I can't. My voice doesn't listen to me either. As always. When I really need it, it doesn't work. But. If he gets up, the silk handcuff of his lock on my wrist will disappear.
I make some chaotic moves with my palm. He frowns and bends over me. In my insane thoughts he often did such things. When something was not as he liked. After frowning he became furious. But in real life after such frowning he becomes worried. And overprotective. He stares at me. The corner of his lips shivers questionably while he is trying to read my signs. I don't know the gesture language though. No one would talk to me anyway. In our previous world...
My hand unconsciously freezes in the air. Not far from his face. I remember him in full suit. Giving orders. I remember him in battle stuff. Fighting back to back with me. I remember... My general. My master. My hopeless dream. But never before was he as beautiful as right now. His locks are heavy and dark as wet granite at the stormy night. His skin is milky-white without any shades. Covered with thin cracks of scars. His eyes keep multiple colors with dots of green (or not so green) jade. Every cell of his body seems made of stone. Colored marble figure of the legendary general. What if he isn't real? What if it's just me dying near the statue experiencing the agony of delusion? The most beautiful. Most precious agony.
- So beautiful... My general.
I don't know why on the Earth my fucked up vocal cords decided to let these words out. Very fucking clearly...
He freezes too. His lips are parted in soundless words. Sharp lines of his scull bones lose colors. For a second he is looking not like a statue but like a black-white drawing. And then the liquid flame pours over his face.
- Whatever! Do whatever U want about this! - He chokes with words falling on his back. From the side I see too well how his lashes move up and down trying to chase tears of embarrassment away.
- Do?.. Whatever?.. I can only fight or torture people... - My voice laughs at me again. It lets my random thoughts out. I'm too used to be mute. I forgot how to control words.
He frowns, shrugs his right shoulder and snorts nervously:
- Well. If U're into such things U can put a needle under my nail or something... But I'd prefer U to kiss me, U know.
There are less then 30 centimetres between us. But it's an endless distance. I move slowly. Soundlessly. As I used to do at the battlefield. If my general orders I obey. He orders. He wishes for... I sneak close. I can't control myself. All my senses are sharpened. Is it a lethal fight? Against what? But I feel like it definitely is. In the name of my general and master. He holds his breath. But his heart drums. I touch his lips with mine. He does nothing. Doesn't move, doesn't speak. But I feel the warmth of his exhale while his mouth opens a little. Inviting. It's an order, right? The battle in the name of my general and master begins...
*************
Steps were inaudible. I'm used to do this. When I need to. Normally I don't demonstrate this ability. Like countless others. The shade in the yard. Small inner yard where no-one walks in. I've prohibited to. I wanted to keep at least this one place to feel safe. Although this is the perfect one to make me an aim. Blind walls, only one exit. And no witnesses.
When it happened for the first time, I sneaked on the balcony hearing someone's cautious steps. Going to capture the assassin. And to bring him to the basement. Where my mute executioner, who never takes off his hood and mask, is able to make absolutely anyone speak. And never let the condemned one die untill I allow.
That time I was waiting. To see the one who came after me. Thin tall figure in black battle clothes went in. The visitor looked the yard around. Relaxed obviously. And took the cloak off. Thin body with old scars over open arms. I watched this toned back and dextrous hands so often... Bringing prisoners to the torture chamber. And every time my eyes were captured with dark silky rain streaming over shoulders of the living excruciation.
The shabby mask fell near the cloak.
I forgot to breathe. The first thought was "unexpected". The tension of the not happened chase had still shadowed emotions. But they gained intensity as boiling water over the flame. With every second.
The face of my executor was angelic. Such a fairy look could hardly exist in mortal realm. And even less - to belong to the tonned and scarred body of the warrior. From my place I didn't see the color of these dollish eyes. But the shade of thick black lashes laid on moonlight cheeks as
a lace half-mask. This wasn't the beauty of the girl. This was more stunning. The ultimate grace of the dancing sword. The moth of the new Moon... He moved shoulders opening out invisible wings. Unsheathed the blade. Both thin but strong palms laid on the handle. The dance of the death began.
...I learned too well when exactly my vision comes here to practice. Although. I can't say for sure was it for battle trainings or for something else. It looked like the moonlight moth tried to turn the art of war into another masterpiece. I felt the painful urge to find out. But couldn't make myself to step out of the shelter and ask. Even if my mute slave found the way to answer... He would possibly never come here again...
...Once (not really once but the first case I remembered like no other) the nobble woman from my Palace noticed I asked servants about the mute executor... I knew too well their style. Moonlight moth would disappear if I won't stop it. Stop it the way no-one ever would dare to interfere...
************
The master brought the culprit to the basement.
- She is a traitor. She went against my will. And now U - he nodded to the nobble lady - have to stay here and watch from the beginning to the end. And remember: the next one here will be U.
He set on the chair. In a couple of meters from the torture equipment. What if drops of blood accidentally stain his cloak? Would I be allowed to wash them away? No... He simply won't ever come here anymore. And may be will order to whip me. Not like I care. I don't even feel pain clearly. But not to see him again... I'd rather... What if to fall down in front of him and kiss his hand? Seems like I'm a bit faster. He won't be able to kill me before I do it. And he'll immediately cut me in pieces right after that. Well... It's a win-win situation... Although. When I look at him I freeze forgetting what I was going to do. And... I'm scared. Not like I heard much. But. The position of the Palace is not perfect. If one day they come after him. Who would fight for him if I die right now?..
The culpit screams and screams. I almost don't hear her. Neither her nor her vomiting and begging noble mistress. Because MY master is here. And all my sences are caught by the quiet sound of his breath. It's a bit unsteady. Why? Is it disgusting for him? I burn one more wound and begin to cut the wrist cart. My insane dreams take me away too fast.
If only... I was a bit cuter. Without scars and... Could I pretend to be a girl? To be his slave and concubine. Could I sit on his laps right now? Could I please him? Could I suffer for him? Could I?... The entire fairytale erodes everything in my head. If only... If only I knew how it feels - to be happy... To make the loved one happy... I'm locked into a circle of causing and receiving pain. But... The pain is precious if it's for him or from him... I always cause it for him. Can I... Please... Get it from him. Because this is what I can get from him only for me. No-one would dare to steal it. And he won't regret giving it.
When the noble lady passes out he orders slaves to take her away. There are only two of us. And the culpit. Although there's no need to count someone who made my general mad. While I'm working he steps close. Bends to the victim and for a long, long time is watching her flesh being separated from bones. Slice by slice. And for no reason I can't get rid of the weird feeling - that he is watching not her but my hands.
***************
These hands... Scarred, thin and dangerous. I couldn't make myself stop starring. The poisonous beauty of the white oleander? But poisoned flowers keep the danger out of sight. The moonlight moth was different. He neither bragged nor hid the merciless art his white fingers kept. The beauty of the steel. Of the dagger. Of the sword. Isn't it perfect?... I realised I gazed him bending too close. Blood on the white skin. So unclear color in the gloomy basement... The white moth. The red Moon. The night before the storm. Will the storm bring this creature into my hands? To cover the flying miracle from the rain?
***************
- You have to go. - He looks pale. Shadows under eyes make his marble features sharper. Beautiful. Exhausted and rigorous. But still beautiful. As always. I wave my head. I know too well they will break in soon. His head costs more than this palace now. He snorts looking aside:
- Or maybe... You'd better kill me right here. And get the reward. You'll be promoted then. And buy yourself a noble status. Go ahead. I won't fight back.
Is he serious? Nonsense. Although. The way he set the sword aside... He isn't testing me. He really means it... And he knows already. Sometimes I'm able to speak.
- Can?.. I?.. - It is no louder than husky whisper. He nods. Black lashes go down. He relaxes supporting himself with a sword. I step forward. Maybe he will kill me after my attempt. I won't fight back. It's a win-win situation. Fingers of his free hand are stained with blood and ash. I reach for them. With my shivering ones. So warm... Absolutely not like the statue. Warm. Partly corsenned from the inner side because of weapons. And they shiver in an incautious answer... Jade eyes widen questionably. His hairband was lost somewhere during the battle. And now the dark silk randomly tosses over his shoulders. Stained in enemies blood and ash like his hands. And his clothes. It's not that dark here but his pupils widen. He slowly tilts his head to the side and forward a bit. Closer to me. His breathe becomes unsteady. Heavy and unsure at the same time. As if he forgets how to get the air. His warm exhale touches my lips.
The doors crack under the ram. They break in.
I turn around leaning back to back with him. My general. My master. The sword and the dagger dance in my hands only for U. It's easy. So easy. To build a soft wall from left to right. To cover my sanctuary from any bother. It's just... The red flood gets higher and higher. It's not fine. It can stain his precious cloak...
- The column! Can U cut the right column?! - His voice is loud and hoarse. He is so used to give orders on the battlefield. Why does it sound so.. Bitter? So full of regret?
While my sword is making it's way through the golden wood I catch his eyes. I don't know what this expression means. But... It's beautiful... So beautiful... My ge...
The roof falls.
**************
It's dark. Not really comfortable. But not bothering either. A bit chilling. But not cold enough to be troublesome. Tall grass? Are we outside? What a weird afterlife... My Moonlight Moth is laying in front of me. His porcelain skin seems glowing in the dark. Traces of battle disappeared. He shivers in his sleep trying to curl into a ball. Is he cold? Or... Is it me being an idiot?? Of course he is! In that battle he was in his usual, rather thin outfit. When I was fully dressed to meet the death decently. I'm shaking the cloak off to wrap him into warm navy fabric. He gasps in his sleep burring his face into my shoulder. So fondly. It's a weird thing - to be dead. But absolutely not bad... The dead ones don't need to worry about their status or danger around. Nothing really exists except this silky grass. And my beautiful Moth clinging to me through navy velvet. The wind is a bit chilling. But leaning to each other it is perfectly warm. Just the way it meant to be... I never thought stars in the afterlife have an absolutely different pattern on the sky. And... The only one crescent Moon in this time of the year?.. Although. Who cares. This one is enough to light up my little Moth.
