The Lustre Of The Moon

01: Capacity Of Love

"Between two worlds life hovers like a star,
'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
How little do we know that which we are!
How less what we may be!"
- Lord Byron, "Don Juan"

***

Ravens cawed in the sky, their silhouettes dark and frightening as their passage through the sky lined up with the moon. Alexander looked down at his boots, the leather soaked as rain tumbled from the black skies, and then looked back at Helen. Her copper red hair was tied back in two pretty little braids, showing her round face with freckles that dotted her rosy cheeks. She smiled, chewing on her lip nervously as she gazed at him, fiddling with her fingers. He eased his jacket off his shoulders, and draped the fur garment around her.

"Thank you, Dawson," she mumbled, and his looked down at his feet so she wouldn't see the colour in his face redden. Helen pushed her arms into the sleeves, and yawned quietly, hiding her mouth with her hand. Her hair was soaking wet and droplets of rain caught hold of her eyelashes, and the dampness made her nose and ears turn bright pink.

"Miss MacKimmie," he mumbled, and she looked back at him. "Don't you think it's about time you started calling me Alexander? Dawson seems a bit formal."

She mouthed his forename silently, and smiled sheepishly and turned pink, "It seems so bizarre. I'm used to calling you Mister Dawson, and then I shortened it to Dawson to seem more casual. Alexander, though. Well, I suppose if you want to start a habit then you have to pick a starting point." She straightened her back and smiled. "Alright then, Alexander." Helen looked back at him again, acknowledging that he didn't have a jacket. "Won't you get soaked?" she asked, reached her hands over to her shoulders, preparing to return the jacket.

"No, no! It's quite alright; the rain doesn't bother me," Alexander said quickly, reached over towards her shoulders to ensure Helen kept wearing the jacket. Of course, what he said was a blatant lie; the poor man's insides could feel the dampness through his skin, but he knew that she needed the jacket more than he did. "Besides," he said, "it's getting quite late, so I'll be heading home soon. I'll be fine once I'm home."

The realization of the time made Helen's smile suddenly vanish, and she grabbed his hand, gasping at little as she felt his icy skin. "I don't want to go home, Alexander! I want to stay here with you, forever and ever," she said, entwining her fingers with his. Though her mannerisms didn't give it away, he could see that the girl was tired; she had purple bags under her eyes and her grip was rather weak, and even though her eyes seemed to glisten like big emeralds, he noticed how her eyelids were growing heavy.

Alexander smiled at her, and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. He held back a shiver as her scent invaded his senses. When you are near a woman, you smell her scent, not just the perfume she is wearing but the entire olfactory nature of her - a compound of perfume, the odour of her clothes, and the natural animal scent underlying all.

"We'll meet again tomorrow. Same place; same time, as always," he said, half-heartedly smiling at her.

She nodded and sighed, "I know, I know, but I still miss you in between our visits." Her dark eyes travelled down to her feet and lingered upon the sight of her little black shoes peeking out from beneath her dress and then looked back up at him, "Mother is so ill that I fear she won't last the winter, and the servants do nothing to help. My stepfather is always working and doesn't care about my sisters and I, and my brother is under so much stress as of recently and I wish I could do something to help him. But then when I'm with you, Al, when I'm with you... everything just seems to melt away; I don't have to worry about anything when we're together," she said, reaching out to tuck a curl of Alexander's inky black hair behind his ear.