Just a short snipet I wrote. In like, five minutes. Read at your own risk.
The moon spoke brightly. No, that’s stupid, moons don’t talk. Rather, the moon shone bright. But then again, that sounds too common and Irene found herself in a rather uncommon situation.
The sand beneath her feet was delightfully cool, the hot palm of the sun having abandoned it some hours past. Sand wormed its way between her toes with each step she took. Occasionally, a small wave would playfully tickle her feet.
Yuri took her other hand and faced her. She was truly a most beautiful lady, at least in his eyes. The way her eyes cast off milky reflections of the moon, how her smile seemed to make her glow in a spotlight that was all her own.
Her hand felt nice in his. Like a lock snug in place. It felt…correct. Yuri traced a lock of hair from her face, following her eyebrow, along her temple, and over the top of her ear, his hand coming to a rest on her cheek.
“What?” she asked, restraining a small fit of giggles.
Yuri leaned his forehead against hers.
“Nothing,” he said, his hand now dropping to encircle her waist. “Just…I never believed this would happen.”
Irene nestled her head against his, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Honestly…neither did I. But why complain?”
Her hand matched his, encircling his waist.
“Oh perish forbid I ever voice complaints, dear maiden.”
At this, Irene made something between a snort and snicker.
“Oh indeed.” Her eyes scanned the ocean’s horizon, small ripples reflected the moon on its surface like some odd painting. Something Yuri once said about the moon randomly visited her mind. She repeated it:
“'You ever dance with the devil by the pale moonlight?’”
Yuri smirked, impressed she remembered that.
“No, but I think I’m about to.”
With that, he raised the hand that was clasped with hers and made slow, delicate movements, swaying around in a pattern unsolvable by the world’s top thinkers.
Irene matched his steps, humming in the back of her mind the same beat that was playing in Yuri’s.
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