|More from Theavatardemotivator||Romance||G||Very Positive|
Chapter Three: Light Edit
The darkness begins to spill over the rim of the cut, flooding the passageway, daring them to move, to breathe, to live, for it knows that it shall shortly claim them as its own.
He shifts the dying torch in his hands. “We’re going to run out of light any second, aren’t we?” he whispers. The strings of his heart are still, dusty, broken.
This is the end, and I have never even told her how much I love her.
“I think so,” mumbles she.
Katara, I would give my life for you.
“Then what are we going to do?” he demands desperately. His body is screaming for him to live, to move, to leap, to fly, to be. “Katara, I—”
He pauses. Her expression has undergone a curious metamorphosis, from that of a girl, curious of kissing, to that of a woman, knowing and wanting.
His heartstrings quietly tune themselves.
“What can we do?” she murmurs, and he remembers the flower necklace he wrought for her so many moons ago. The thought of her as his, of this lady in the water becoming a lady of the air, has crept into his inner workings, and, like a seed, it takes root.
His heartstrings shift abruptly, harmonizing with his breaths.
“Ssh.” His lips are moving, but he is not in control. His arms shiver like reeds in the wildest storm. Her eyes are sparkling, not pools or stars or mirrors.
They are currents.
They are eddies.
They are the sky and the sea.
The horizon, so thin, keeping them apart.
Except at the ends of the earth, where they can finally touch, and caress, and love.
Like Oma and Shu.
Torn apart by war.
Brought together by love.
But if the sky can love the sea . . .
Then a bird can love a fish, he sings, and his heartstrings are an orchestra, playing, so softly, a melody of light and dark and all between.
He smiles and tips forward slightly, raising himself upon his toes until he is nearly her height.
His heartstrings perch on the highest note, his hope refusing to die until the last soul has gone beyond the veil.
The light flickers, flickers, and fails.
He feels the barest stir of warmth upon his lips.
Something moist brushes against them.
He is in paradise.
Like the fire of a thousand stars, it fills him. Her lips, so soft and tender, on his, asking, wanting, needing.
Time slows and stops.
He is caught in this moment, everlasting, for he is with her, and she is with him, and they are with other, their souls intermingling, their heartstrings joined in an endless melody—
A sudden brightening shatters their kiss, and he gazes, in wonder, at the shining crystals above, the taste of her still fresh.
And he knows.
Even without the crystals, he would have light.
For she, herself, is his light.
For the collective works of the author, go here.