A/N- The pictures above are not mine, the angel tattoo is hers (and her clan) and the antichrist tattoo is his (and his clan)
PROLOGUE
It is not a usual thing for her to be at a point where she had no words. No snarky fragments to throw around carelessly without thinking about the repercussions.
She was overwhelmed by the intensity of their eye contact. Things were never certain with them, but she was certain about one thing that he was going through the same thing as hers.
If she was at loss of words then so was he.
If her heart was ready to break through her ribcage then his heart was not all that behind.
If her head was coming up with lies to deny the inevitable then he had some things going on there too.
But none uttered a single word.
They never needed words. All their conversations and meetings started with passionate battles of their tongues followed by moans of pure bliss and ended by the intensity of what they never gave a name to.
They were wasting time; Precious time. They were aware of it but none did anything. The tattoos on both their arms were a clear proof of the fact that they cannot engage themselves in an activity that included feelings.
That they cannot hold each other while they cry out their worst nightmares.
Those tattoos proved that the only time they are allowed to look into each other's eyes with any sort of emotion is when either or both of them held a gun in their hands.
They were a clear proof of the fact that she cannot call him hers and neither can he call her his.
They had nothing yet when they looked around they were flooded with everything.
The tattoos were a clear indication for them to realize that they aren't meant to spend the rest of their lives together, feeling the apricity in the cold December.
He was pernicious. His affect was something like a drug. Could lead a person into oblivion but still so harmful.
She was an arcane. Only understood by a few. Her mind was a secret she kept and was determined to take that secret to her grave.
Those tattoos were a mark, Mark of them being sworn enemies.
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Zemblanity
General FictionZemblanity... It was an abdication. Abnegation of their love. An aesthetic tragedy, filled with insanity, not an ounce of clarity. The atrocity of assault, the auxiliary provided to the act of darkness, the babel created in the arena during the barb...
