He sat at the sticky bar, regarding his beer bottle with cold grey eyes. No one sat anywhere close to him, this man who even in a moment's rest, seemed completely lethal. His dark brown hair was pulled sleekly back into a short ponytail, and his black clothing was fitted but made for easy movement. Long fingered hands played with the beer bottle, and his handsome face was set in an expression of apathy. No emotion flickered in his grey eyes, and he shifted on his barstool with the leashed grace of a panther. A night, unlike all the others. No screams tonight, no agonizing pain, no slow death. For once, no weapons are in his hands, and the call for death is unheard by his acute ears. He watched in silence as a leather clad teenage girl moved to the juke box, and a dark smile touched his lips. Such easy prey to him, as were all but one. As the teenage girl began looking through the music, he quirked a smile and began to slide off his barstool. The opening of the door made him pause, and then something deep in his eyes changed.

The figure in the door was slender, as only years of disciplined training could make one, moving with the silent grace of a deadly cat. Clothed in black linen, the garments fitted to her form, her flame-red hair pulled back into a thick braid hanging to her hips, she stood in the doorway. Cautious, measured steps took her further into the room, the only color besides her hair her dark red lips, set in a firm line. Hard green eyes traversed the bar, and came to settle on him. For a moment, those emeralds widened. Music began, the notes compelling, pulsing through her ears as her blood through her veins. He rose, silent, and walked forward. Without realizing her actions, she moved towards him. Across the dance floor they stood, gazing at each other. For a long moment, the beginning strains of the music floating around them, they just looked at each other. Faces so familiar, and yet so strange off of the killing field. Spurred by the music, they both stepped forward, and within moments, his arms slid around her waist, holding her slender body against his as their eyes met again.

They move fluidly, two lethal weapons in a moment of truce. No harsh words, no taunts, and no spilt blood for these few stolen moments. A rough hand strokes back a loose strand of fire-red hair, and a delicate hand rests on his shoulder. The words float around them, soft on the smoky air, almost taunting them.

" Face to face my lovely foe...mouth to mouth, raining heaven's blow...hand on heart, tic tac toe...under the stars...naked as we flow...cheek to cheek...the bittersweet...commit your cry...in your deadly time..."

A torment, just to listen. Bodies held close, the warmth from one infecting the other. Whispery sounds as black cloth rubs against black cloth, and no sound made from stealthy feet unused to dancing.

" It's too divine...I want to stay...I want this bliss...but something says I must resist...another life, another time...siamese twins, writhing intertwined...face to face...no telling lies...the masks they slide...to reveal a new disguise...you never can win...it's the state I'm in..."

The music slows, descending to a graceful end, and the moment of truce dies with the last notes. Extracting herself gracefully from his arms, emerald and granite lock for one moment before she turns. He stands, motionless, in the center of the floor, watching her retreating back. For one timeless moment, she pauses in the doorway, and looks back. Again, granite and emerald lock, and it is understood that the truce is ended. The next encounter could result in death, both understand, and the door closes behind her without a sound.

-- Angel (keita@my.sanguinus.com), October 18, 2002