DisclaimerI do not own any thing in this story. Not Fala, not Moira, not the Donovan song Moira sings, "Legend of a Girl Child Linda" (1).
A/N: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's... an update!
(It is much later, and clouds shroud the stars in the darkened sky. Water still pours from the sky, and it is beneath the rain – not in the rain, but beneath it – that Moira and Fala sit. They are both cross-legged, facing each other like mirrors or doppelgangers in a perfect world, opposite and imprint. Moira now wears an oversized t-shirt stolen from her thing of prey; Fala, Fala who lives in the Past, wears an old-fashioned, impractical outfit that would befit a 50's housewife.)
Fala: I –
Moira: Shhhh. It's not time yet. I told you, wait for the stars.
Fala: But the clouds –
(Moira puts a finger to her lips.)
Moira (again): Shhh. Wait.
(Moira takes both of Fala's hands in hers. She begins to hum to herself, then to sing, louder and louder, still humming or whispering some lines.)
Moira: From out of the sun a giant gull came flying
And the children got ready to sit on its wings.
They waved to the raindrops as they soared over the trees
The wind tossed their hair high, flashing gold on the sea. (1)
(She stops abruptly as the clouds part to reveal glistening stars.)
Moira: Told you so.
Fala: I love you.
Moira: That's all you have to say?
(She is now gripping Fala's hands even more tightly.)
Fala: No. I want to hear everything. Where you've been, what you've done. I want to close my eyes and pretend I was there with you.
Moira: Silly. If you close your eyes, how will you see me?
(She gently strokes Fala's fingers. The sand around them is imprinted with a pattern of raindrops. Behind them, two young humans, male and female, are running across the beach, laughing, hands above their heads as feeble shields against the rain. Moira stands, and reluctantly drops Fala's hands.)
Moira: This is for you.
(She races, sand flying up at her heels, and grabs the male around his middle, pulling him to the ground as she grabs the female and drags her to the ground with them by the neck. She feeds slightly off each one, just enough that each of their bodies lies limp. With the corpses, her food, her prey, she forms a sort of statue, lying across the beach, the two bodies together forming a heart.
Fala comes to join her just as she is putting the finishing touches on her artwork.)
Moira: I'm an artist now. Modern art. I'll call this, "Food for love." It's all yours.
(Fala wraps her arms around the younger vampire, kisses her gently on the lips. It is nothing like their first kiss, a rush of passion, spur-of-the-moment. This one is well-thought-out; they have dreamed and planned it for centuries. Their lives thus far have led up to this kiss, these lips on these lips and this love that tarnishes and stains their golden auras. All is perfection.)