War in a Kiss

Her kiss bestowed upon his waiting lips were filled with future, life, a dream, her dream to make reality. Her pallid arms were wrapped around his cloaked shoulders to deepen the kiss, to deepen the romance, to deepen the life. In some way she loved him for who he was but in another, she only loved him because she had yet to change him. With this kiss, as their lips danced against each other, she would change him, and all would be right again...

His kiss for her in return, despite her attempt to give him life, was death. His kiss marked the end for her immaculate mien, her immaculate nature. His cloaked arms, the deepest, darkest black, wrapped around her, staining her gown with his dark.

As the play of their lips continued on, she saw veins of white beginning to web across his face, from his lips, from her kiss. They webworked up from his cheeks to his forehead, into his luscious midnight-dark hair. Strands at the front were beginning to pale, lose their black, iniquitous luster and take on one of light...just a little while longer and she would win. Just a little while longer and he'd be pure...

He could feel her light coursing through him, spreading from her, trying to overwhelm his nature, change him, make him like her. Somewhere within his black hole called a soul, a part of him yearned to be freed from the encumbrance of so much dark, so much evil, so much death. That tiny part, he suspected, was mostly caused by the white that was starting to transform his face, his hair, probing through the pores to reach his brain, trailing down his jaw, toward his heart. Yet his influence was far more greater. Afterall, when it came to circumstanes such as this, dark always won over. Dark incessantly chased the light, its shadows stretching out phantasmagoric arms, reaching to trap it, change it, turn all forever dark. Yet the two had never met until now...until this moment, until this kiss...and he was winning...

Her once lucid white face was beginning to gray with the profuse webwork of his power. Black capillaries throbbed at her temples in tune with her speeding heart. They looked like intricate spiderwebs, spun by some invisible spider. In a way, he was that spider. He could feel the first traces of panic, spurting up from somewhere deep within her, but he knew she'd strive to hold it in, not wanting to show her fear. This was, in fact, a tiny war, within a kiss, to see which would win out. Light or Dark. He or She. His cloaked arms hugged her tighter, his fingers entwined to achieve the best hold. She wouldn't escape, not now, not when he'd finally caught her...

She could feel his evil, just as he saw it on her face, she felt it like torrid metal in her veins, curdling her once pure blood, staining her soul. She brought up her hands and placed them across his chest, struggling to separate their tightening embrace. Yet, even as she struggled to pull away, his lips remained on her lips, his dark continued to obscure her light. And she could feel it now, clouding her mind, changing her just as she'd tried to change him. She dropped her hands from his chest and let them hang limply by her sides. He was too strong. She'd been foolish to think she would be the one to change him. She had bet it all and lost. She shut her eyes and then opened them, to clear her clouding vision. She saw what she'd done to him, what she was still doing to him as their lips caressed, the white veins. Her eyes trailed to his hair. The entire front of it was snow white but it wasn't enough, she knew. Her eyes left his whitening hair and met his eyes. They'd always been inky black, like the deepest depths of the oceans, like the large caves under the earth, but now, now at the center, a large dot of white lay amidst the ink, her light had done that. Inside she nodded, acknowledging it. She wasn't nearly as strong as he, but she was still strong.

Her hair, the color of virgin snow, the color of white purgatory, was now almost entirely black. His hands unlocked from themselves and trailed up her back to touch it, feel it. Like black silk on his skin. He closed his eyes, feeling the impending victory. She was almost his, only a little while longer and she would be...

He met her gaze, saw her eyes. Once upon a time, before he was even close to catching her, before their lingering kiss, her eyes had been nacreous, almost as white as her hair, like heavy cream, like ivory. He had feared those eyes once before. Feared them because he was afraid, afraid that she would be too powerful to overcome. Afraid that she would be the one to change him despite his prodigious power. Obviously that wasn't the case. Those once hauntingly white eyes were stained with a large black dot at the center (similar to the white one in his own eye, one he wouldn't notice until later). He watched as it began to eat at the rest of the white, as it neared its completion in changing her. Only seconds to wait now...

She could feel herself turning

becoming

changing

(betraying)

Why had she let him catch her? Why had she liked how it felt to feel his dark fingers on her light skin? Why had she let him kiss her? This last thought hung in her mind as the darkness inundated her being, this last thought, the last entrails of her purity, survived the first tsunami of black, but was vulnerable to the next ones to come. She pulled away from him, surprised at how easy it was considering the iron-like grasp he'd had before. She coughed, expelling some strange black liquid from her lungs as she did. She struggled for her next breath but found that she could not draw one in, her lungs had begun to fill with more of the dark foreign fluid. Soon, she would drown in open air, drown on his evil, choke on his evil. She hacked, spat more of the black liquid out, and collapsed to her knees, ebony tears rushing down her blackening cheeks. Her now entirely black eyes stared up pleadingly at the man that had managed to change her. The man that had finally caught her in this apparent end. The man now dressed in white.