Eve of Hallows — Alessa (Patreon)

It's not a dark, stormy night.

The sky is clear, not blue but not black either. Stars shine from far above, countless candles flickering gently, while a half-moon fills the east with its pale light.

There's a faint breeze in the air, you can feel its soft fingers shuffling through your clothes, and while the air isn't warm, the breeze doesn't chill either. It simply touches, unhurriedly, not lingering, and then onwards it goes. Refusing to stay in just one place.

You crane your neck and take a deep breath, stretching your legs until the muscles pull in a welcomed kind of pain, a brief recall that you're alive. Here, in a night preceding a day meant only for the dead.

"'Tis quite disappointing, is it not?" A familiar voice breaks the quiet, and your lips immediately quirk at the sound. Alessa's shape emerges from the night to sit beside you, one knee tucking beneath the other and hands setting on the back.

The stars are many, the moon is beautiful, and the breeze is as soothing as an Autumn breeze can ever be. But you take your eyes from the wonders of the world to focus them on Alessa. Moonlight bathes her profile, making her freckles stand out even further, and the long shadows above her lips only accentuate the smirk she wears on them.

Her eyes, however, are fixed on the sky, but you can see she watches you, so your smile grows bigger, and you decide to indulge her. "What is it that disappoints you so, my dear Alessa?"

Her own smirk grows, still not looking at you, and you think then, as you watch her arch an eyebrow and shrug with one shoulder. As you listen to her voice, ringing with amusement. How are you supposed to ever ignore her? "We have all heard the tales about tonight, after all," Alessa says. "Tales made for fools by fools."

"The Eve of Hallow," you say, looking over the square. No one walks it, as no one walks the streets either. The city is as lonely and deserted as a cemetery, but there are fires burning inside the homes. People are awake but too fearful to leave the door. "The night when the departed souls come to pay a visit."

As if four walls could stop a spirit.

Alessa scoffs in her sharp, brief way. "The very one."

Her right hand is right beside you, fingers adorned with rings made of silver and gold. You curl your fingers into a fist as you fight the urge to hold them. To hold her. "So what about it disappoints you?" you ask. "Did you expect to see ghosts roaming the streets?"

That makes her finally look at you. Her blue eyes are narrowed, but shining at the corners, and her smirk is so wide, it can only be called a smile. "Is that your perception of me?" she asks, leaning closer to you. And you didn't mean to, but you catch yourself watching the shadows shifting on her lips. "One of the fools who believe the tales?"

Silence. You blink and realize she waits for your answer. When you look back up, meeting her eyes, her smile is as large as before, but there's a new color to her cheeks now. "My perception of you," you whisper and throw caution to the wind. Your fingers uncurl, your hand moves, and now you touch cold skin adorned by rings. "Is that you are beautiful and clever and that you never do anything without a reason."

Alessa stares at your joined hands, so quiet, that you think she holds her breath. You intertwine your fingers together, warming her touch as she chills yours. "So tell me, fair Alessa, why did you join me here?" You lift her hand to your lips. Her eyes follow, and when you kiss her knuckles, you can finally hold her gaze. How you adore the shade of that blue. "The last thing I want to do is disappoint you."

Alessa stares back, and even after all this time, you can't read through her expression. Not when she closes it like this, face made of stone, eyes carrying the detachment of drifting ice. "I would not fear that," she says, and they're sharp, the nails that brush your cheek. But her eyes are softer now, and you kiss her knuckles one more time. "This is... far from disappointing."

Her palm cups your cheek as you lean forward. Your hand holds hers as your lips meet. And a numbness fills your mind on a warm, Autumn night when she tilts her head and kisses you back.

Stars, moon, breeze, and the lingering traces of departed souls all fall behind. Alessa's lips are soft, perhaps the softest part of her, and you lose yourself in them. In her. In the way she parts them, and now that you can taste her, an undead army could be tearing down the city walls that you'd still be right here.

But after an eternity, what felt like only a heartbeat, she pulls away from you.

"I meant the night itself." Alessa's chest is rising and falling, her breath mingling with yours, her hair tickling your face, and even as you gulp down much-needed air, all you want is to kiss her again.

"Uh?" you ask instead.

Alessa smiles. What a beautiful smile. "What disappointment me," she says, nails racking down your neck now. You're watching her lips again. They're glistening. "I did not expect ghosts, but at the very least some clouds, or a moonless sky." Her fingers stop on your collarbone, and now she fists your shirt to pull you towards her. You go willingly. “Instead, here we find a pleasant evening. Disappointing. No winds shall spook the templar fool."

"Ah," you say, smiling against her lips. You can't see it, but you can feel her smiling too. "You wanted a storm."

Alessa's nose bumps into yours when she chuckles. You seize the moment to grab her waist and scoot closer still. "Mayhap I have found one after all," she says, and her eyes are so bright now that if you were one of the fools she often mentions, you'd say they rival the brightness of the moon.

But you're no fool, so you don't say anything. You just kiss her again, and again, and again.

Tomorrow is a day dedicated to the saints, and maybe tonight really is about memory. But you're not concerned with the kind that have long faded, for you're too busy building new ones. Like the novelty of her touch and the sounds she makes when you hold her close, and the way even ice can burn as bright as the hottest flame.