LE VIOLETTE – for caitlan

episode one:

axel x kairi

A hand coils around her pale, slender neck and slithers upward, cold palm stagnant on her cheek. A lump grows in her throat and her eyes squeeze shut and she thinks (stopwatch heart tick-tocking in allegro): this chilled blood of mine is melting from a devil’s touch.

And this piece of truth is sinful in a million ways, castle on cloud smoldering, pink dress sweaty and wet.

A desert blooms in the caverns of her mouth, and the girl finds herself paralyzed.

Swallow, but the hot dampness at the nape of her neck does not subside. The tension and sparks are perpetual, flesh against flesh, eye to eye.

Immortal, like him and his chakram and her and her girlish innocence; the two combined, red haired rhymes and lines. Trademark wicked love story. Perpetual.

(There’d be static electricity even if only our fingernails were to touch.)

With his probing green eyes, he locks in on her (oh, the games we play while your hero’s off to save the day).

His face gravitates towards hers, hand still resting against her right cheek. Her purple-blue eyes quiver and she feels as if her eyelids, chest, and pinky toe are going to explode (bang, bang).

Veins crammed with blood pulsate to the un-heard beat of his name.

Lips that only know how to smirk nudge at her ear, nose buried in a choppy cascade of crimson-brown hair, inhaling.

Pause (and please don’t repeat or rewind).

A whisper, breathy and tingly in her ear:

“You know, he’s taking an awful long time to pick you up.”

Spindly fingers, hot as ice, play a scale in C major as they find their way to grasp the back of her neck.

“Fuck off.”

And there’s so little time ‘til the time bomb sets off; the princess can already hear it going tock, tock, tock.

Heart shaking to the rhythm of an invisible clock.

She’s going to become a wax and wicker girl, he sees.

And what a pretty glow she will make; seashell glamour and oceanic light.

- - - -

“I’m going to make you burn.”