Along the Cliff - Fiction

I was too restless to wait and went to walk along the craggy cliffside. The moon was gaping at me with a translucent fixation and the balmy air was swirling around my head in golden threads. I wasn't focused on any one thought, I let the air of the sea stream around me. My hair blew delicately in the wind and the clouds that hung alongside the pale moon, seemed to mimic its route in circles.

The water was waving at me from below, swishing and whispering to me words I could not quite grasp. A part of me was at ease and yet a part of me was shown how at ease I would never, could never, be. No, I could never flow that gently and cleanly as the sea or the clouds, and I envied them as I admired them. An action may be in vain but nonetheless, it is better carried out, or felt, than repressed. So I reasoned with my envy and left it.

The ground broke under my bare feet, the grass quilted in aqua dew tickling the soles. I breathed in deeply. While I exhaled I sensed a stirring to my right. Without turning my head I strained my hearing to catch a glimmer of what was moving towards me. A moment later a shape revealed itself.

His head was pale and lips were red, it was as though they had the same aqua dew as the grass upon them. I paused my strides and tilted my head, awaiting his appearance. Barely perceptibly he strode over the moonlit grass, like a ghost in the shadow of the clouds. Barely perceptibly I held my breathe. He nodded his head at me, showing me the chestnut crown that lent clockwise.

I feigned modesty and dropped my eyes. He breathed in my affectation, as I had anticipated, and half-smiled. I mimiced his action, although mine was not sincere and his was. What is sincerity anyway, sometimes it seems to me nothing more than laziness, simpleness...I'm dreadfully envious of the sincere. I waited to let him speak, so that he would have the impression he was in control. It's very important for men to feel that they are in control. Mockingly I let them assume it when it's time, knowing all the while that once I reverse the power hierarchy for a moment the effect will be doubled.

My nature is cold, I can do nothing for it. His hand is warm as he reaches out to touch my arm. His touch is soft, like the moonlight that slides over our bodies. He is taller than me, of thin and muscular build, with an even, symmetrical face. I raise my head upwards towards the heaven so that our gaze is level, though I stand a good deal under him. The tide swishes below and the air seems to begin swirling around us. I let myself pretend it is, giving in to illusions of the senses is one of the few things left to me.

Still I don't speak- it's important that he begin. And he does, of course. A moment later a cloud slips in front of the moon, so that we are basked in a dull glow and the night carves itself away above the swishing sea...