A/N: The first little bit is the summary of my story put into a shakspearian sonnet. Not a true sonnet really because it is not long enough but my sad attempt at one! A shakespeanian sonnet was usually spoken by the chorus who would be an un named person, but I just like the way it sounds when spoken right. Now on to the story!
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Two people connected in ways unknown
Separate lives and live alone
A feeling of emptiness impales the heart
Until they meet by divine fate
A wordless promise to never part
And for each other, to no ends wait
Under the shocking brightness of the moon’s desire
Two souls blend and vanish replaced by one
Only honor will break, for love is above all higher
Through an age adoration has begun
Such it the story of our star crossed lovers
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As the sun began to sink lower into the foreboding depths of the sea, I was struck by a memory of a different sunset, one that had existed on the other side of the sea. It had existed in different time, a different place, yet it was the same. All sunsets have that remarkable similarity, so different from sunrises, so dark. This particular sunset began slowly, dipping lower and lower, so gently, like the slow drop of a feather falling away delicately from wing of the bird whom it came from. The glow that rested on the water lay unbroken until the bottom edge hit the sea. Suddenly that fragile decent began to speed, and I forgot its previous demeanor. It was as though I had no recollection of the grace from which it began. The golden oval of ceaseless light grew orange before my eyes, then red. It burned quickly like a match before you can light the candle. The sky lighted on fire and all birds left the heavens heading perhaps for the nests and nice warm beds. I knew in my heart that I should leave too, as not to be caught after dark but the glow fixated in my brain. I was transfixed by the terrible beauty of the burning sphere until at last the watery bellows of the sea engulf it.
I slowly made my way back to the manor hoping perhaps to avoid father and his usual questions. I wasn't in the mood to talk, just think. And it was a personal belief that one can only think alone. Father of course would try to pry into my consciousness whenever he saw the distant look on my face but hell would freeze over before I let him into my thoughts. Sure maybe we had an abnormal father son relationship but it wasn't all secrets and hiding. No, I certainly had a talent with adults. They would believe anything I said as long as I had that gleam in my eye. If I told my mother that she was a Brazilian opera singer I swear on Merlin’s beard she would burst out in song. I could manipulate any of them and my father bought it. He felt we were...Close... yah sure if only he knew what had happened that night. That beautifully vicious night where all that was once in darkness fleetingly came to light and all that was warfare was forgotten, replaced by passion, then guilt. That night...
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I snapped awake with the sound of a crack. I sat up and shook my wavy brown hair out of my sleep-blurred eyes. What was that...oh. I looked down to see my bedtime story on the floor next to my bed. Of course it was probably not a good idea to read thick books before bed, the Encyclopedia of Historical Magical Appearances being a good example, but the only other type of book I owned was a cheap paperback love story, you know, one of those smutty romantic novels? And I had only read it over five hundred times to many, and besides that book always brought back painful memories. Painfully delicious but all the same...That silly little book only brought trouble and made me pine for the one thing I couldn’t have. Ohhhh that night...that silver lined, death wish was what I yearned for right now. Whenever I was alone and craved love or passion the memories of that night flooded back to me. It should never have happened and could only cause problems but I wished for it whenever I was alone. Just thinking of it made me tingly, it made me shake. I bent over to pick my book up but found I could not. The weight of it combined with my incisive shaking prevented any prethought movement. I put my hands between my knees and held them there and the shaking ceased but the...what to call them...and for lack of a better word...the racy thoughts I was thinking. Was I turning into a...red bottom vixen? A scarlet woman? This was not at all like me, but these thoughts were a guilty pleasure I regularly indulged in. If only everyone knew. Then they wouldn't think of me as such a prude. I lay curled up in my bed and wondered if he still thought of that night as well. Perhaps he regards it with disgust but the passion came from both of us so that could never be. If only society were different we could be together. If only he were different.
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A/N: the first section is in the male's point of view while the second of course is the female. And contrary to what you may think there are NO sexual acts or even really thoughts going on in this chapter. Perhaps a sexual undertone, but no sexual acts so do not get confused.