Disclaimer: I own zip, zilch, and nada. All characters are copyright their respective owners. I own only the words, in this particular order, in this particular story. So don't sue me. P
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Faded Moonbeams
Chapter One
"A nocturnal concerto, candlelight whispers me where to go…" Nightwish - Astral Romance
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Night. A time of secrets, of sounds and scents unknown. Since the earliest of times, there have been those who have feared the night. It's mystery and it's glory. But most of all, the masses have feared the danger of the night. The innate human knowledge that the dark of night covers all that the psyche holds in contempt. Yet, there are some who can see behind the velvet curtains of the dark and lay their eyes upon the shimmer of hidden moonbeams. The black world entices them away from the white, pure world of the sun. Some realize where their heart truly lies and come to Night's beckoning hands calmly and quietly. There are also the more innocent, the more naïve, who run kicking, scratching, and screaming from the ethereal embrace. Woe to those who realize their affinity and passion for the darkness too late. For Night is a fickle creature who will kill just as quickly as she will embrace.
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The pale moonlight glimmered across the fields of cultivated roses as a single sound echoed across the night. A light swish of fabric against the sighing of the wind. For if one were to take a closer inspection of the garden, they would see a young woman moving between the throngs of sculpted nymphs and gods. Her face, however, could fool any mortal, for although quiet breaths escaped her every so often, she held an expression of constant melancholy. Oh yes, she would smile and she would frown. She could anger and she could contemplate, but her eyes forever held an uncomprehendable sadness. She was a child of the twilight, forever hanging on the balance between light and dark, day and night.
She made her way to the center of the rose garden, to an ancient bench of white marble almost covered in vines. It was a nightly ritual, she would come out here to be alone. To mourn for the life she had, the life she lost, and for the fact that she could never have led either one happily. She was safe and secure in this life, that was certain. She was loved and doted upon by her husband, she had everything her heart should ever desire, yet she did not have all that her heart yearned for. She would admit readily that she was a selfish creature, and had done so often in her nightly vigils within the confines of the garden.
She yearned to sing for the masses, she yearned to fly away from the stiff life of the aristocracy, and she yearned to see her maestro one last time. None of these would ever be and she would always silently mourn the deaths of her fantasies. For a noblewoman could not be a prima donna- the two lifestyles were utterly incompatible. She could never run from society as she had sacrificed too much. She couldn't change her decisions and so she would be strong and live through them. Her last wish, however, had died three years ago. For one can not return to see the dead.
She silently called out for him in the darkness, as she did every night. She never received an answer. Yet tonight there was something in the air. She could feel it cover her, embrace her, and silently beckon her. She could almost smell the candles, the music, the memories. And, as a young woman drifted off into the bliss of nostalgia, the wind sighed a little louder and the sounds of the night ceased to exist. Her eyes opened as the wind formed words in a voice familiar as her own.
"Christine…"
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Author's Note: Hey, thanks for bearing with me! I know this chapter didn't really go anywhere- probably a bit too much description and imagery, but I tend to do that. Please leave reviews as this is my first fic for this fandom. Love it? Hate it? Totally unoriginal? Let me know!