He & She (S)he Pt.1

They walked slowly along the cobblestone path, their fingers warm, intermingled things. Lanky blades of green brushed past her legs as they spoke and she'd occasionally stop and pull away to whiff this and to touch that. His lips curled boyishly as he watched her and the way she would dance with the world, taking the time to taste each morsel and to speak each named thing's name.

Meandering past a silver brook and under a burly tree they spoke of a wounded music and how and why such a thing came to be. Up the foothills towards the approaching dusk it was more of such and he saw, as she spoke, a creature not unlike himself. Feline eyes peered back into him and he felt the way he thought mist must often feel. The now failing light boasted its last amber rebuttal and gave her face glow and warmth and he wanted to touch her cheek but he did not.

They finally approached his manor, laden with maned cats and other idiosyncratic vanities and as he made down the pathway towards the wooden door he felt her hand slip from his. He turned and looked back and there she stood from him, all but stone and statue. With the light now gone from the sky, her eyes lay in shadow but still, he could see she was not fixed on him. Her neck craned upwards and her head tilted slightly to the side. She was looking up…at the bell tower. They stood there still in the loud, thick, soup of silence for longer than they should have and the breeze, knowing this, whipped past them shattering the spell. She stepped close and looked at him now, head tilted down and with an eye that told the tale. He reluctantly met her gaze and stared back with a hope and a look that did not have all the words it needed to survive the winter. She held him…tighter than he expected and with more patience so he held her back. With one arm at first, then with two and while they embraced time tapped its foot on the ground, not so subtly alluding to having places to go. She pulled free and he released her and watched her walk away, back through the courtyard and towards the foothills.

He stood a moment then turned towards his front door. Before entering he pulled his blade from its sheath a few inches then pushed it back in and as he fumbled in his satchel for the key, he took a glance upwards towards the bell tower. His chest heaved a deep and melancholy sigh at the familiar sight of the dark, winged things flapping and circling around the tower. He’d slain so many of them. He’d spilled their blood without a whisper from another soul and those remaining would also surrender their un-lives to his blade. He would again, do this without the enlisted aid of anyone but his own, arrogant will to continue. He shook his head sadly while he turned the creaky lock. The door moaned an old man’s moan being pushed from its rest. He slowly entered his chambers and shut the door behind him.