Dichotomy of One- Wren

[Fury_US]

A moment.

How many times had she asked for only a moment? A moment more, a moment to never end? Caught up in his arms, sweaty and spent, laughter and tears mingled into heady bliss- how many times had she chased a moment with fingers scrabbling across the bed, snatching for, grasping at seconds made fugitive by the dawn, begging that ephemeral thing to please, please be eternal; even as the door softly closed, sheets grew cold, and persistent, inconsiderate Time left her alone once more?

How many times had she pleaded with a moment to simply stop, and endure?

What she wouldn't give, for that moment- that moment of realization, that moment of clarity, that moment of grace; when eyes beheld the work of her hands and her words and knew, with certainty, none could do what she had done. That moment of success, that moment of power and potency, that moment of compassion, empathy, that moment she could only be gentle, that moment she needed to be, and was, fierce- to abide, to persevere.

It was instead a quiet interlude that was suddenly constricted by the freezing grip of fear when she saw it, saw Her, and she knew; even as the world was engulfed in the sudden, searing pain that lanced through her body and wracked her being, as muscles violently spasmed then locked; even as her throat seized and choked on her agonized cry as she fell; even as eyes saw everything, then nothing at all; even then she knew that every moment she had ever yearned for was simply gone- consumed, in that moment, by blistering torment, to be turned to embers, and embers to ash, to be blown away on the last of winter's winds.

Of every moment she had ever hoped for, prayed for- of joy, of hope, of love and promise, of lust, of passion, of success or self reliance- of all those moments, it was, instead, this moment. This moment of her soul caught between this world and the next, snarled in and pierced through by thorns of corrosive hatred, reaching toward either side, and the promises held in each, yet held in torturous stasis by light and dark struggling to pull her apart with grasps whose barbs rent at the flesh of the very essence of her. This moment of watching, over and over again, every perfect moment past fall, fall then shatter- a thousand and more shards scattered and the heart, the gold that bound them together, spattered across the floor.

This was the moment that joy, hope, and love were ripped free then torn asunder by regret and loathing, leaving nothing but agony, sorrow and loss in their place. Of all the moments she could have, this was the moment she was given.

This was the moment that would last forever.