Advent of Chaos

17

Mora shuddered as she sobbed over and over again, and didn't even notice the hand that pressed against her shoulder as she relentlessly let herself go. But she froze at the warmth, his bare hand a new, soft thing she did not expect. Slowly, she turned around and buried her face into the chest of the man, he smelled of pine and snow, and for a moment she closed her eyes, finding herself in a forest, her hands braced against the earth. She heard his voice, and he didn't even need to speak, but in that vision she felt an actual soul inside of her body. She was weak, but it was a natural sort of weak, and she drank in the sensation as it slowly fell away from her.

Dorn had his arms wrapped tightly around her back, his eyes shut tightly as he took all of the pain away from her. His body shook, an irregular, cold state washing over him as she looked up at him slowly. Her fiery eyes had dimmed to embers, and that tore into him in ways he never thought he'd feel again.

"What are we going to do? What if he's already dead?" Mora cried, begging herself to stop, and with his hand slowly moving through her hair, she took deep breaths. No, he felt familiar, and she let that soothe her.

Dorn only spoke quietly enough for her to hear. Anyone listening, if they were, wouldn't have even noticed he was there. "Do you really believe in death?" He brushed a hand down her cheek, and her heartbeat thundered. His touch, she surrendered to it, tilting her head in response to his fingers.

She calculated through her thoughts, remembering that all guardians were practically walking corpses, some with memories and some without, before answering his question. "No, I suppose I don't." She found her hands reaching for his chest, feeling his human heartbeat. He was the most human guardian she'd ever met, she realised. Behind all of that cold, unfaltering strength and knowledge, she felt that he'd always been holding in his own thoughts and feelings. She felt that, throughout his entire life as a guardian, he was nothing but an open library to whoever stepped in, searching for answers. It never mattered what he felt. She felt that in his heartbeat, and didn't dare draw back.

"Then you have no reason to worry." He started, his own heart beating faster as she assessed him through the simple contact of her hand against his chest.
"We are going to come for him, and back him up. If he's smart, he'll wait for you, your fireteam. He left this note for a reason, didn't he? He knew you would come for him, either way, we're going to end up on the moon." Dorn said while he brushed his fingers down the back of her neck, then through her dark, messy hair. She was an utter mess right now, but he didn't care.

Without thinking, Mora grabbed his arm, pulling him down on her quietly.
He faced her, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips. He was stunned, and so was she, as she suddenly realised what she'd done. Quickly she pulled away from him, her face reddening like fire.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just pull you down, I wasn't thinking. It just sort of...happened." Mora didn't feel like her guardian self. She felt different, but it felt familiar, and that very thought tugged on her constantly.

"We should.. Get going. I want to head out as soon as possible." Dorn nodded at her words, and stood up from Uriel's bed. She watched him as he stepped away, his eyes pinned on her as if she would vanish at any given moment. Those eyes, they told her a different story. They almost seemed sad, she realised. He stood at the door of Uriel's chambers, and Mora waited in the messy sheets like an abandoned cat. But just seeing him, she felt comfortable. She locked eyes with him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest grow uneven as he assessed the way she held herself.

She heard him curse under his breath before he practically came running towards her, his hands slipping around her waist and his lips crushing into her's. His palms brushed against her so roughly that she felt like she would detonate at any moment. His lips were so warm and soft, that she melted within them and focused on nothing but him so that she could savour every second he had her within his grasp. They fought, the both of them, for an equal amount of power over the other while their tongues danced under phantom moonlight and his hands kneaded into her hips like clay. She laid back against the bed, pulling him down into her, their bodies radiating a vibrant energy as she was, barely aware of the outside world, yearning for him to keep going. He cursed again, and he broke away from her lips to test the strength of her control with his mouth against her neck. She stiffened and arched her back in response as she felt his tongue graze her skin, the very edge of a silver knife threatening to cut into her. Mora moaned, and then it was her turn to curse as her core bloomed with fire and she felt herself slipping away from reality.

Quickly she pulled away from him, and sensing her urgency, he pulled away at just the same speed. They both looked at each other helplessly, hungrily. As if they both knew the other for decades. And perhaps that's what it was, because Dorn covered his mouth, clearly grinning from ear to ear, as if he missed this. Mora's heart faltered as she caught a glimpse of his smile. A real, genuine smile. And Mora smiled back at him, a smile that finally agreed with the glistening in her eyes.

"Let's get ready." Dorn said, shoulders lowered as his mental defences dropped.

Mora only nodded, pushing her way out of the room quickly before she could be drawn back in by the sight and scent of him alone.

~

Dorn, too, retreated back to his room and rubbed at the growing tent in his pants. But he didn't let that stop him from suiting up. He merely sighed in happiness at the memory, and pulled his robes on, tightening his weapon belt at his hip and pulling his gloves and boots on as quickly as he could. He felt along the fabric of his robes until he met with a faint bump, sighing quietly to himself.

Dorn made sure nobody was near his chambers as he pulled, out from the inside pocket from his robes, a small Polaroid photograph. The young face, dark hair, and golden-caramel eyes all shaped together to form the woman he loved. He had one arm around her, and both of them looked overjoyed. Well, Dorn looked slightly less happy than Mora did. Even he frowned at the sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed at the photo of the two of them, the woman pressing her cheek against his. He held it to his chest as he pulled his helmet over his head, the golden shine of his armour a reminder of her.

He flipped the picture over, and kissed the back of the photograph gently. Only the words "The Golden Age, Dorn and Mora" remained, written by her hand.