written and unwritten

Her skin was the colour of chocolate, her eyes were dark and dim, and her hair was blacker than a raven’s plumage. She was precise, fierce and frighteningly consistent in her words, actions and general demeanour. Her movements were gracious and ethereal, creating the illusion she wasn’t walking so much as she was gliding on thin air, leaving behind an almost impalpable scent of desire and madness. She never stood still for too long and there was always a faint breeze drawing in mortals in a deathly grip of longing, obsession and delirium. Men instinctively wished to get a hold of her, to tame her, to domesticate her, to keep her hidden from the rest of the world. But she always found a way to get away with a smile, remaining her usual wild and charmingly free self.

He was her complete opposite. Fair-skinned and freckled with piercing grey eyes that could unnerve even the calmest soul. He always paced himself and was the very epitome of stability and homey comfort. Something about him promised calm seas of domestic bliss. His sense of self-worth and strength of character shined through in every movement, every deed. He was generous in his actions and frugal in his words. People stopped and listened to what he had to say and even the air stood still long enough for him to leave his mark on everyone whose lives he had entered. He liked it.

But what he liked even more was her. With her illogical behaviour and ability to create a whirlwind in a seemingly calm summer day. Everything he had achieved with years of hard work and restrain paled in comparison to the alluring prospect of throwing it all away just to follow in her footsteps and get lost in a world of ‘what ifs’ and ‘never agains’. He was good at planning life; she was good at living it. He imagined holding her head between his palms – his cold calm eyes staring into her fierce gaze. Ice and fire, motion and stillness, inspiration and strength.It would be simply marvelous.

Naturally,she knew. Women always know. Passing by in a fleeting moment she could sense his overpowering presence with all her being. Everything in their lives had led them to the moment when they would stand in front of each other with all the honesty they were capable of. It was inevitable and they knew it. 

He was closer to her than he had ever been; he could smell her scent; she could sense his presence. He felt drawn like never before. It was a moment of simple truth: two sets of eyes were calmly gazing at each other.

– “Checkmate.” – the Player exclaimed, moving his Black Queen to F1, next to the White King.

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