the way you kiss me will work each time // Dawn

[Rhaegor]

Rhaegor

the playboy

She holds him as tightly as she can, tighter than she ever has; for half a heartbeat, the foolish prince thinks this a good sign. A sign that she loves him back, that she wants to accompany him to Tephra, and that everything will go back to the way things were before the onset of the Contagion. With this thought in mind, a smile ghosts across his lips, the expression the perfect image of triumph and self-righteous glory.

Flashing across his closed eyes, a vision of a rage-filled polar bear overtakes him, and the expression dies where it stands. Suddenly, it is as if that which he holds in his embrace is ash, threatening to rekindle into a full blown fire.

It takes everything for him not to withdraw, burnt by that which is to come.

Sunny. She tugs on his mane, like when they were kids. Rhae loosens his grip, resenting her fragility and kind countenance now that he knows how she truly feels. Or how she may truly feel. In the heat and rush of the moment, Rhae forgets to treat his precognition cautiously, taking the vision as law. Immediate law.

She says that she loves him too, and he knows it's true, but he wants to think otherwise.

But you have Chryseis.

"Bitch."

He doesn't think before he says it, but suddenly, he has. Ears pinned, his eyes flash to find Dawn's, wondering if she heard the insult, though the wind had picked up at the exact moment his half-mutter escaped him. Most times, people had a hard time hearing him when he meant for them too; in all likelihood, she hadn't heard him. Holding his breath, the brooding pegasus waits for her to react - but she only continues to explain herself, and somehow, that makes him hate himself more.

She deserves better.
God fucking damnit.

Having pushed himself to the edge, if not over it by now, Rhae can barely contain the tears which swell in his eyes. She continues talking and he fails to understand her, though the sound of her perfect voice continues on in the background of his senses; lost puppy he hears, and again the image of the polar bear invades his consciousness.

And, with a bitter irony, her colour shifts, and her shape wavers. This he sees through the filmy glaze of his tears.

I am but a small river feeding the pool in comparison.

"Goodbye, Dawn." It's not enough, but he daren't say more. "I..." But he only shakes his head, biting his tongue and feeling the tears fall as his eyes squeeze shut.

He turns away.
The rest of his tears fall, cast down due to his realization that everything she said, every word of it, had been true.
I love you, Dawn.
But his lover for her would never be enough.

...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...