Harlequin
Active member
It is hard not to watch you dance across the water, all graceful and commanding. The sun is setting behind you and I cannot help but to compare the glow of its fading embers on your skin to the radiance of the very gods themselves, a radiance which you have in vast quantities.
Never before have I seen such a skilled, artful practitioner of your art and the way you coax the water to do your bidding, accede to your every command, is truly remarkable: I am left in awe of it and of you, you and your talent that is so great I fear it is beyond my comprehension.
I think I love you, have always loved you, and it is because you are perfect. Perfect in mind and body, in your form and in the substance that makes you who you are. I confess that I could not imagine, would not wish to imagine, anything as pleasant as you, for you are utter perfection. A goddess made mortal and more beautiful in that very fact, for a beauty that never fades is no beauty at all. It is in the passing of a flower that we feel its true value.
I had almost decided not to do this, to slowly come up behind you and whisper sweet nothing into your ear even whilst my hand caressed your body. I pause, taking in your scent for one last, bittersweet moment before I snap your neck and drop you.
Your body is fluid and graceful as always, even in death, and I cry as you float atop the surface.
I do not regret what I have done: you were too beautiful to exist in the vile, festering pit that is the mortal world and by my actions I have set you free. It is heart-wrenching and I fear I shall cry for days after this but it was my solemn duty and I have completed it.
I take one last, lingering look at your prone form until finally I leave, secure in the knowledge that you are, at last, free.
Never before have I seen such a skilled, artful practitioner of your art and the way you coax the water to do your bidding, accede to your every command, is truly remarkable: I am left in awe of it and of you, you and your talent that is so great I fear it is beyond my comprehension.
I think I love you, have always loved you, and it is because you are perfect. Perfect in mind and body, in your form and in the substance that makes you who you are. I confess that I could not imagine, would not wish to imagine, anything as pleasant as you, for you are utter perfection. A goddess made mortal and more beautiful in that very fact, for a beauty that never fades is no beauty at all. It is in the passing of a flower that we feel its true value.
I had almost decided not to do this, to slowly come up behind you and whisper sweet nothing into your ear even whilst my hand caressed your body. I pause, taking in your scent for one last, bittersweet moment before I snap your neck and drop you.
Your body is fluid and graceful as always, even in death, and I cry as you float atop the surface.
I do not regret what I have done: you were too beautiful to exist in the vile, festering pit that is the mortal world and by my actions I have set you free. It is heart-wrenching and I fear I shall cry for days after this but it was my solemn duty and I have completed it.
I take one last, lingering look at your prone form until finally I leave, secure in the knowledge that you are, at last, free.