Post by Rin Minigawa on Apr 15, 2013 10:39:56 GMT -5
Written while listening to:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SduKvHiPxdo Please open this and listen to it in the background as you read.
The girl sat with her tattered dress hanging around her bare feet in the now shoddy cottage that was once her bright home. She sat at her piano, her requiem filling the night. The sweet music beckoned the clouds and rain, and it did pour. She was chilled to the bone and yet the notes came flowing from the maiden's numb fingers as if she were possessed by some angelic spirit. The hole in the broken roof above her gaped and the moon cast it's glow upon her, as she was all there was in the dark and brokenness.
Smoke, black and sad rose from the ruin around her, flames drenched by the storming night.
A shining silver creature lay outside, a mighty dragon, her dragon. His inner flames quelled from the burning, the angry release; he lay silent, listening to the sonata, sweet thunder, sweet piano. The rain came ever flowing from the heavens as if weeping for them.
Around them was destruction, his flames, her nails, her words and his roar, their tears...and their broken hearts bled.
Below the sea raged, always calling, always reaching for the maiden who had only once given into it's call, rescued by her dragon. So cruel they both were, both made of stone, and yet both able to weep just as the heavens did for their great love.
She played on. The notes told their tale of tragedy, their tale...of woe, of love, of fear, of hope, of solace.
Her horse had long run away, and the dragon had threatened to follow...yet his wings, though unbroken dared not stretch again to the rising sun in farewell to her. Together they were bound by a love they both hated and yet both lusted for. Never were either of them satisfied by the pains of the other, nor by the pleasures.
Two soul mates, said the piano, two halves of one whole.
The cry of the rain, the growl of thunder, the call of the raging sea, and the song of the piano all under the moonlight. The dragon's steady breathing, smoke curling from his nostrils, her skilled and scarred fingers working against the ivory.
Echoing, echoing, the music is in her soul, and it curls steady inside that of the adoring beast beyond. Her hair, dark and shoddily shortened, long locks lost to grief, lost to hope, cut to try and erase the past.
She played on.
His heart unwhole, and yet too full, ready to leave it all at her feet, and yet never leaving. Her soul broken but mended only in him, her feet anxious to run but needing to stay.
Tragic lovers, soul mates.
This is not the tale of an end, only the tale of a moment. One moment, in the life of two lovers in the Sonata under the Moon.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SduKvHiPxdo Please open this and listen to it in the background as you read.
The girl sat with her tattered dress hanging around her bare feet in the now shoddy cottage that was once her bright home. She sat at her piano, her requiem filling the night. The sweet music beckoned the clouds and rain, and it did pour. She was chilled to the bone and yet the notes came flowing from the maiden's numb fingers as if she were possessed by some angelic spirit. The hole in the broken roof above her gaped and the moon cast it's glow upon her, as she was all there was in the dark and brokenness.
Smoke, black and sad rose from the ruin around her, flames drenched by the storming night.
A shining silver creature lay outside, a mighty dragon, her dragon. His inner flames quelled from the burning, the angry release; he lay silent, listening to the sonata, sweet thunder, sweet piano. The rain came ever flowing from the heavens as if weeping for them.
Around them was destruction, his flames, her nails, her words and his roar, their tears...and their broken hearts bled.
Below the sea raged, always calling, always reaching for the maiden who had only once given into it's call, rescued by her dragon. So cruel they both were, both made of stone, and yet both able to weep just as the heavens did for their great love.
She played on. The notes told their tale of tragedy, their tale...of woe, of love, of fear, of hope, of solace.
Her horse had long run away, and the dragon had threatened to follow...yet his wings, though unbroken dared not stretch again to the rising sun in farewell to her. Together they were bound by a love they both hated and yet both lusted for. Never were either of them satisfied by the pains of the other, nor by the pleasures.
Two soul mates, said the piano, two halves of one whole.
The cry of the rain, the growl of thunder, the call of the raging sea, and the song of the piano all under the moonlight. The dragon's steady breathing, smoke curling from his nostrils, her skilled and scarred fingers working against the ivory.
Echoing, echoing, the music is in her soul, and it curls steady inside that of the adoring beast beyond. Her hair, dark and shoddily shortened, long locks lost to grief, lost to hope, cut to try and erase the past.
She played on.
His heart unwhole, and yet too full, ready to leave it all at her feet, and yet never leaving. Her soul broken but mended only in him, her feet anxious to run but needing to stay.
Tragic lovers, soul mates.
This is not the tale of an end, only the tale of a moment. One moment, in the life of two lovers in the Sonata under the Moon.
