That's not going to be the title, but I genuinely have no idea what I'm going to name it right now. I just want to get past this writing/editing hell. But here's a bit of something I'm "excited" to work on.
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“Iosefka.”
Her head whipped up, her eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. Lot had stopped ascending the stairs to look back at her. Behind him was the starlit sky filled with constellations that spelled her demise. The halo of the night sun fell upon his head like a crown. He looked beautiful, and she was terrified.
“Is everything alright? I can feel your heart racing from here.”
“It’s...”
She touched her fingertips together before shifting her hands slightly and interlacing her fingers. It was hard to calm down. Cold fear loomed behind her, a shadow of its own. It was perhaps the irony that made this all the more frightening for her. Life had been nothing but cruel. Why would that change now, when there was nothing but the night, the silence, and them?
“It’s...?” Lot’s smile slowly widened. He took a couple of steps back down towards her, and she wanted to run. She wanted to hike up her skirts and flee through the stone-faced hallways as far as her feet could take her. But she was trapped here, tied to Lot’s destiny, her purpose unfulfilled.
What was she meant to say? “I’m just wondering... Do— do we have to go up there?”
Lot’s expression changed, curious now, and he looked over his shoulder to the open doorway at the top of the stairs. And then he laughed. It was a lovely sound, rich and amused. Surely, if she was running, she would hear it echoing wherever she managed to escape. If she managed to escape (even in her dreams, she would never get away).
“Iosefka. Darling.” He descended the rest of the way until his shoulders could eclipse her shoulders. Being so close, he blocked out the night-sun, but the madness of the moon was in his eyes. Brilliant, haunting, and hypnotising.
She hated him, she hated her life, she hated the strings of fate that wove them together.
“It’s just the moon, I promise. There’s nothing else.” When his hands slipped from her shoulders, he took the stairs again. “So, when you’re ready.” His voice had been so soft, so kind. He wasn’t giving her a choice.
Iosefka waited at the bottom of the stairs, still worrying her hands together until it felt like she would rub the black shadows off her skin. She watched his back again, as intently as she always did until the night-sun brightened around him once again. When Iosefka felt a tug on their spiritual tether, she followed.
She picked up her skirts, and even though she wanted to sprint in the opposite direction, she made the same steps he did. Her stride was identical and smooth and graceful. She stared down at her feet, not terrified of tripping but of the radiant night-sun. It washed over her, illuminated her, and it was brilliant in its shine. Iosefka closed her eyes for a second and allowed tears to roll down her cheeks. When she landed on the top step, Lot was there for her. He wiped the tear from her face, but she could hardly feel it. The moonlight embraced him, cherished him, made him another star in its holy sky whereas she was embraced yet overwhelmed and consumed.
He was a champion chosen by the night-sun, and she was merely his shadow washed away in his light.
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