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Lily of the Valley (CA - Silas)

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Diane felt a greater sense of gravity with every breath she breathed, as though the center of the universe were between his toes and hers.

How were his eyes so immaculately bright despite the darkness of the night? Why did they make the rest of the world seem dull and boring? What was it she wanted to say a moment ago?

Oh, how her mind filled with questions. It was infuriating! And yet, such a sense of excitement flooded her chest with each one. They came as if with the beat of her heart, quickening.

What would be the harm if she kissed him? What harm need be considered; the harm to herself, or to the rest? Did it matter at all? One part of her said that it did. The remainder seemed to quickly be forgetting that there was such a thing as consequence.

Wiser to take it, or wiser to refuse... the question most important hung like a light and lofty thing, floating further away into the air.

Diane didn’t move. Time was frozen, besides the two of us. I was lost in her eyes, she in mine. Her heartbeat quickened, mine followed.

I had to break the spell. Perhaps the world would stop moving if we didn’t seize this one moment. Maybe just mine.

I wouldn’t allow it.

My hand caught her waist, drawing her close, my lips meeting hers. Time rushed forward and looped back, the earth began freefalling, stars imploding. The end and the beginning hitched on two heartbeats.

Diane fell into Silas' kiss like a dove on water and let the exhilaration of the moment surge into her being. Kissing him was like seeing the bright moon two days before it was full, or racing to the top of a building and looking down. The world fell away in the excitement of the moment, and no thought could turn her mind from it.

When Diane left his lips, she stared straight up into his face.
"Italy?" She said, grinning. "My, you really are obsessed with me." Her eyes danced from one of his eyes to the other, and to each of his features in turn.

"You know, it's a dangerous affair getting tangled up in this." And by this she meant her family and the House of Baltronan. "How are your eyes so impossibly blue?"

My heart was racing when Diane's lips left mine.

I smiled and laughed lightly, "You don't know the half of it."

At least now she had an idea. What she didn't know was how in that moment, however fleeting, I'd felt as though I'd breathed my first.

Her eyes traced my features as she spoke and I was perfectly lost in her emerald gaze. Unable to relent it, I brought my hand up from her waist and rested it on her face, warming it and tracing her features with my thumb instead. I felt the curve of her jaw, the line of her cheekbone and the structure of her chin. I closed my eyes a moment-I'd never picked up a chisel and hammer, yet regardless I was certain if I tried my hand I could carve her face in stone from the memory on my fingertips.

"It's a dangerous affair not to." referring to my own lack of self preservation. I opened my eyes and smiled deeper still, "My family would have liked to know. My mother said I was born under a shower of shooting stars and that they landed in my eyes." I gave half a shrug.

It was a true story, about the shooting stars, but the real reason was the likely affair. That was a detail for another day-it made for a much less romantic story.

"Are you cold?"

Diane smiled softly and let her dark lashes fall while Silas traced her features into his mind. His hand was gentle and soft. One would need soft hands to make a precise shot. Her eyes came up again.

"Your mother must have loved you so." She said. "No doubt she told the truth."
No secret was safe from Diane when any subtlety was present to reveal it. She gathered from his words the story he did not tell, though she dared to dismiss it.

At his last touch, Diane turned her cheek into his palm just so, and then withdrew.
"Winter will come early this year." She said. "I'm sorry I could not treat you to custard and lemon sauce tonight, it really is worth the wait. Perhaps, next time?"

“Next time,” I echoed in agreement.

****

We departed, and suddenly the brisk of the night rushed to greet me. I had ignored it until I left Diane’s presence. Her scent lingered in my mind, yet no longer encompassed in it, all of the odors of the city returned in a bitter affront on my senses.

Compared against the hue of her eyes, the softness of her skin, and the sweetness of her lips, nothing could be measured. The world became gray and everything lifeless. I would hold in precious memory the tender moments that this evening brought.

The dangers would have to be considered in time. A certain powerful traditionalist need be recalled. In time. In time.

She was the desire of my heart, yet what steep price did her affection come at? Surely no earthly measure of value could be given; no, her affection was priceless. The cost of our endeavor could only be weighed in the immortal, the dangers of such a dance carefully considered, and in a kiss, easily forgotten.

She was the Diana to my Actaeon. The Eurydice to my Orpheus. Both my poison and the sum of all my desire, my Lily of the Valley.

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