Peaceboned. [ David L., Open ]

[Ophelia]

Three AM was the fondest hour for Ophelia and her art-making, which was a private, sacred practice for the girl. There was much preparation in each little composition ritual—painting being her latest fancy, followed by poetry, which was always in a constant high position on the hierarchy of her passionate expressions, followed by dancing as a third. Ah, and this is what she focused on today, the art and passion of dance. She was stripped of her heels and of her black and white plainness and period clothing. She stood in her typical nude fashion, in the center of her room, staring at her feet. Imprints from the heels decorated her skin like little tribal tattoos, marked with a jewel of twin blisters kissing her Achilles’ tendon. Ahh, she’d have to alter her dress now, at least for a few days, until those damn marks faded. It was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make most of the time, but she listened to her protesting body when the hellish bruises or blisters graced her otherwise delicate feet.
Ophelia would have to alter her dress further for the night. It was a Wednesday—nobody was out on Wednesday nights, especially in the small little park-garden hybrid in the center of her apartment complex. It was a perfect place and a perfect hour to lose herself in dance—if she kept the music quiet enough for only her to hear, she wouldn’t wake anyone, and she could lose herself for at least an hour before retiring off to sleep. No…she was capable of no disturbance. Ophelia was a very open person, but when it came to her practices, her expression, she felt some sort of reserve…She could explain her need to touch a person, her reasoning for wearing a long coat in the dead heat of summer, even why she would eat peanut butter and cherries together (because it was damn delicious, that’s why); but she could not bring herself to justify the inner-workings of her art; even if it was as simple as a petal-less flower on a melting snowball in a moonlit sky; sometimes even she did not understand what came from her body. So she kept it secret, kept it safe from peering eyes who would surely misunderstand her motives and motions…especially with her kind of dance.

She wore clothes specified for such fluidity, with materials like gossamer and silk comprising the skirt and top. Her tummy was kissed by the air, giving her goose flesh for a couple moments. She walked quietly, barefooted, out to the garden with the trees. Her keys and a small music player were set near the tree she would conceal herself behind. She began to play the CD, and started to feel the music creak her bones to life. It wasn’t less than a minute when she started to sway, her hips at first, then it slowly became her entire body swaying to the rhythm. That sway became a swirling of the hips, like painting clouds on the sky, her hands swiveling about like a gentle, graceful breeze. Her hands flicked out the stars and her torso made the circle of the moon. Her feet were roots tearing up and back into the earth, her legs the trunks and branches. She was painting nature with her body, without threat of spectators or judgment. She loved dancing, as any omnipotent presence could see with the large smile on her soft petal mouth. Her eyes were closed like butterfly wings in prayer and she let the music carry her whispered thanks to the ears of her gods, over and over again.

[utilit4rian]

What did one do when they stayed up well past midnight? For many of David’s friends, the answer would certainly revolve around partying and other social bacchanal’s of the typical adolescent boy’s life. Far from untouched by such youthful rites, David might indeed arrive home at this hour with quite a buzz, but tonight he had taken a more solitary nocturnal stroll, true to both his night-owl nature, and his introspective nature. He had set out at about 2:30 A.M., at an hour when he was fairly confident that he had the night to himself, and could take in the sights of his darkened world at his leisure. Perhaps the comparison to an owl was apt for David. He recalled being to a farm where one of the sharp-eyed raptors had been around to watch for mice and such. Equipped with night vision better than any human’s day vision, it had fed itself by surveying all around it, the fake bird had stood as an inanimate sentinel. David liked to take in all of the sights as well, and one might swear they fed him, since he might easily forget to eat to take a stroll in the moonlight.

He wended his way to the apartment with a smile. His legs felt well-used and he was utterly refreshed. Sometimes the inside of his apartment, or even any building, felt like tartarus. He froze in place as his eyes caught a glimpse of graceful movement. Were she made of fallen cherry blossoms, the wind could not have guided her to move with such lightness as she seemed to possess now. As the shy sunrise deprives most of the world of the privilege of seeing her, leaping out from under the concealing blanket of the crowds and stretching her limbs only when the tired world is at rest and indoors, so did this wonderful dancer hide while being only a glimpse out the window away from some. Like the early riser or daytime napper who glimpses the sunrise, only he was privy to this more terrestrial light. He had always had a childlike awe for dancers and acrobats, people who were so graceful, who seemed so in tune with their physical bodies. To David, the body was a cumbersome and troubling thing, but to such people as dancers, it became a blessed vehicle, like Elija’s Chariot, or the wooden ebony horse from 1001 Arabian Nights. His eyes scanned her beautiful form with interest, mesmerized for the span of several heartbeats. He remained silent for some time, but the urge to speak was able to override the sense of regret he had for disturbing such a private ritual.

“Pardon my intrusion.” He said with an apologetic smile. “It seems I am not the only one who needs fresh air more than sleep.” He added as he took a step closer to the apartments. In different lighting, he saw different features. If her face could be associated with the same terminology as the moon, one would say it seemed to wax as he drew closer to the glow of a nearby street lamp. His own features must have grown clearer as well, though his hair probably caught more of the light that shone from overhead than his face did. He didn’t know what made him dare to speak up again before she responded, but she seemed so wonderful in the throes of her “trance-dance”, he almost felt as though he had been pulled in by some vortex. “Night is the best time for some things. The aesthetic side of the brain is more active the closer you are to starting a sleep cycle, or something to that effect.” He rattled off. “Do you always use your nights so well?” He questioned seriously.

[Ophelia]

She murmured more appreciative words and twisted her hips in curious, sensual patterns with the same grace as a cartographer drawing a map he knew like the back of his hand, with the same fascination as a child finding a nest with bright blue robin eggs buried in its center. Ophelia managed to keep her mind locked into her movements and thanks for nearly twenty solid minutes before the boy had started to watch her. As her body warmed up, her movements became more flexible and more inviting with each wave and pulse. Her stomach appeared living it was so full of motion, and her tree legs became completely free from the earth; it was quite possible that the wind would carry her up into the sky so she could dance upon the stars and planets. Her lips were parted and she seldom opened her eyes to pay attention to the visuals in front of her; no, she was much more occupied with the passions inside her head. Her body was glistening with a thin glimmer of sweat, almost like wet fairy dust spilled on her naked flesh and stuck there when she wasn’t looking. Her dance ebbed and flowed, and she opened her eyes only when the harmony of her music was interrupted by a human voice.

Her eyes flew open and her goldish cheeks became salmon pink; she lost her footing and nearly fell over herself. How long had he…been there? She felt like she’d just been torn from the womb and thrown into the world. Her sweat made her instantly cold with shame, like she had just been caught doing some terrible act she could not explain. Her brows knitted together and her tummy pulsed with each breath she took. Her music continued to play and she was, for once in her life, uncertain what to say for a few moments. She’d been taking a risk, but she would have sworn that her timing would have protected her…apparently not. She wouldn’t want to make such a mistake again. Before she could explain herself, he began talking…no…he was appreciating what she did. He was actually interested in her little practice, it seemed. This made her features instantly brighten and she gave him a big, half-moon grin.

“Do you like to dance?” she stepped toward him, taking one step closer than a normal comfort level for a conversation, only several inches away from his face and body. It was an unusual conversation starter, but it was also an unusual circumstance. She grabbed his hands and held them gently in her own; he was cold from the night air, but very much alive; she was hot from the blood pulsing in her veins. His physical touch appealed to her…perhaps he would join her in dance if he could manage or he wasn’t too shy. She pulled at him to join her, playfulness and depth within her soft brown eyes.

[utilit4rian]

David was in encircled by a compelling dilemma; he knew he only had a small chance of making it through a dance without tripping up. His coordination had earned him embarrassment in many everyday situations, but he really didn’t want to trip while he was dancing with this alluring lady. On the other hand, there was a part of him that really couldn’t say “no” to a woman with such an eye-capturing appearance. He could not say “no” to that face, nor to that tone of voice, which hooked him like the fabled hypnotic power of a serpent over its prey. Instead of being paralyzed by her gaze, however, he was enlivened. “If you like.” He responded without thinking. For a moment, he forgot his accursed coordination, and grew excited at what she proposed. He took her hand and began to dance with her, closing his eyes and letting the music wash over his tripartite sense of self. His Nefesh was emboldened by the soundless tune of their flowing bodies, and and stoked by the touch of her hands on his. He imagined how those parted lips would feel. Such physical feelings were the result of that portion of the soul, the baser, animal part- the Nefesh. It rarely rose up above Ruah to take control, the self of intellect, but she wrenched it out of him with those nets her tempting eyes seemed to cast over him with the bat of a lash. The warmth of her hand seemed to evaporate his blood, creating a vapor which propelled his heart like a steam engine. Her warm body was the inexhaustible fuel of the activity going on within him. He took a step that brought him too far in what seemed like an eye blink, and he gaped in dismay as he tumbled down on his back with such force that his feet flew up. His left shoulder took much of the force from the fall, and the rest of him settled roughly onto the pavement soon after that point of initial impact struck the ground. His heart was racing even more now, with adrenaline to grease its mechanisms, only now it was pumping blood straight to his cheeks in large quantities. The young woman still had a grip on him, but the dance had been effectively cancelled. With a sigh, he got up wordlessly, and brushed himself off. He stretched his left arm and cupped his shoulder from his back. “I like dancing, but it ultimately doesn’t agree with me.” He said with a blithe air of confession. The fever of his cheeks abated with the locomotion of their dancing no longer there to feed it.

It was a disappointment, but he wasn’t going to be discouraged for the night by his fall. If anything, he would have to admit that it had been worth it, and he had no regrets. He could always seem to laugh off such minor mistakes, things which wouldn’t really matter tomorrow. This dance, however, would linger in his thoughts. To think, he would have missed it all if he had simply adhered to the schedule of a sane, day-walking human being. Tomorrow he would have to force himself to get out of bed, and walk over some of the same path that he had taken this night, though in this case it would be illuminated and transformed by the daylight, and he would wonder to himself why he was so restless when he had an opportunity to rest. That was worth it too, he supposed. For an adherent of mysticism, he certainly was concerned with the time he had in his life here on earth; after all, sleep was a thief of time.

[Ophelia]

Her eyes positively gleamed when he gave her an affirmative response. She’d had trouble getting some of her close friends in the past to dance with her, and this boy, who didn’t even know her, said he would without hesitation…well, not vocally, anyway. He took a moment to process what he’d heard, and maybe even second-guessed himself mentally, but he’d said he would, and as far as Ophelia was concerned, that was that. The music was still quietly droning behind them, and she was glad he had some sense of rhythm. His movements were unrefined, but he was losing himself, she noticed; she was assuming the role of an encouraging mentor, holding his hands and moving with simple elegance. He followed with his own sense of dance and started picking up momentum. She beamed and followed suit, making her motions more intricate and refined, occasionally grazing her hips against his in the process. He was only a little bit taller than she was, so their alignment was near-perfect for dancing. She was about to close her eyes and lose herself, since he had found his place, but she felt herself being affected by gravity more strongly than usual. He’d fallen and taken her down with him. Her heart pounded in her chest and she stared at him with a most-startled expression for a few moments.

Ophelia was astounded with the stranger and his warmth. She couldn’t quite place a finger on it, but there was something strange about him that she found alluring…it was like the promise of depth in an unexplored cavern. She knew he had that je-ne-sais-quoi, she would just have to find it…and at this point, she would. Maybe not this instant, but he’d attracted her, and she was pleasantly stuck in his magnetic field. She started to laugh and glow with amusement at their little tumble, and she rolled off of him and sat at his side, smiling warmly. “Well that was quite something! I’ve never done that move before…” she teased him lightly, then became more serious but equally as warm. “But...you were doing a wonderful job, you know…You’re the first person who knew about my dancing that actually wanted to join me when I asked…thank you.”

She leaned against him almost instinctively while she spoke, and with her thanks she planted a small kiss on the side of his neck, just beneath the curve of his jawline. It was long enough to leave an impression and flare his nervous system, but short enough to not start a long spell of deeper kissing. She restrained her natural urges to undress him and see his natural form, and focused her attention on learning who he was. His pulsing energy lingered on her mouth and she smiled at him. “Who are you?” she peered up at him with almost overwhelming curiosity, running her fingers through the grass impulsively. “Do you go to school around here?” she had her mental fingers crossed and prepared her stomach to drop if the answer was negative. She simply had to see this boy again if it killed her. He seemed like a perfect person to get to know. She wanted to explore every inch of him, and even if he didn’t go to the school, she would certainly find him again.

[utilit4rian]

Her levity at his fall was not lost on him, and he mentally sighed in relief that she was not put off by his mistake, which some might feel ruined the mood. "Oh, I'm constantly inventing new dance moves." He murmured wryly. Most of these dance moves revolved around falling. David's breathe halted in place for a moment as her moist lips brushed his neck, seeming to strike just the right place near his jaw, a bodkin kiss finding the crease of his armor, and drawing blood in the form of a barely audible exhalation and a pleasantly-surprised grin, which he flashed her appreciatively. He took a necessary moment for his soaring spirits to cease buoying is mind up and out of the world of the living. After a few seconds had passed, he replied. "I'm going to Moral Crest. I think that's what the place is called." He explained with a shrug, though he was visibly thoughtful.

Of course, it would be very interesting if she went to the same school. It would be perfect, like a blessing rained down from the sky. Even the practical side of him acknowledged, however, that supposing she didn't go to that school, he would still have to get to know her around the apartment, assuming she did live around here. One could only hope. David listened for her response, and stifled a yawn. He should probably get at least the minimum of sleep necessarily for him to not be as useless as a lobotomy patient in the morning, but hooked as he was on this girl and the conversation she offered, he yielded to the comfort of his position and did not move an inch. He wasn't going anywhere as long as she was so close to him, or at least he should wait for her answer. He really generally didn't catch himself thinking this way, and he felt a little shocked at himself, but it was the immutable truth of himself that he found their proximity beyond his notice, or that the breezy, silken outfit she had chosen for this night wasn't just the last straw to break his will.

"At least, I'll be going there soon. I really haven't been here very long." He explained. This had been weighing on him lately in fact, and part of the purpose of his walk was edifying exploration. It would be true to say that David was now contemplating this young woman and her personality with a similar motive, she seemed quite cryptic to him so far. He paused to listen to her. After a pause, his smile disappeared from his lips, but lingered in his eyes as his arm went to her shoulder, and he righted both of them with an upward lunge originating from the strength of his knees. He realized the quick motion might startle her, but the hand he'd placed on her shoulder felt as cherished as a golden heirloom to him right now. "My name is David." you should know." He told her cheerily. "David Levitan. It's very nice to meet you." It was really something to be able to say something so casual as that, and yet to mean it with a fervent zeal that was so far from casual.

[Ophelia]

She loved his subtly, his reactions and his little exhalation, like a fleeting fish near the shoreline. His skin notably goose fleshed, and his cheeks flushed red; he was really a beautiful boy, in the most romantic of senses. Beautiful in the same way a horse was beautiful; in the same manner an archer’s muscles emulated the tension of his bowstring…beautiful like the arrow that shot out to claim a beautiful buck’s life. That sort of beautiful. He was pulling her like a stray piece of metal to a polarized magnet, and she felt the sudden urge to kiss him once more. Her eyes were clouded and storming with some sort of newfound, pulsating desire to involve this man in her life. She eyed his mouth and remained quiet, with her lips parted and her ears were still very much in sync with the music playing in the background. She nearly leaned into her newfound interest when her heart jumped out of her chest and her eyes widened; instinctively her hands went to her neck and she touched the faint lines in her skin and glanced to him with a pixie’s grin.

“Oh.” She purred. “I just started there not a week ago. That must mean you’re more special than I thought, hnn?” her eyes played like gems in the light of the darkness. Ophelia was thrilled to have been in his company, and she was ecstatic to learn that he went to the same school she did…maybe he lived in the area, too? It would make sense, unless he just wandered into random apartment complexes. She decided to further investigate, turning to the side and ghosting her lips and the tip of her nose on his arm while she spoke, her eyes thoughtfully inspecting a blade of grass her hands had torn from the earth. “You live around here, owl?” she mumbled to him, looking up when she’d finished her sentence to see his reaction. It was then she felt herself hoisted up. She grinned at his natural inclination to show affection…this was no accident…no, it was the most brilliant interruption she’d had in a very long time. Ophelia stood up to her full height and offered him an extended hand to help him do the same.

His name was like candy to her tongue, and she was very pleased to have it. She, of course, was excited to offer hers up as payment for such a little delicacy. “David Levitan…” she repeated, almost subconsciously, and smiled like she’d just found the entrance to his cave of what seemed like limitless delights. She noticed that the music player was no longer running; that would mean that her dancing hour was over. She picked up the music player and held it to her side, walking toward the concrete pathway that lead to her apartment. She turned to him before departing for her house. “Ophelia Gaius, second floor and third to the left. See you at school tomorrow, hmm?” She bit her lower lip and grinned at him.

[utilit4rian]

Alright, David told himself, perhaps I'm not thinking too clearly right now, but just then, when her beautiful lips parted... didn't something almost happen right there? Speaking for himself, he would have to say yes. A part of him was bitterly unhappy that he hadn't taken opportunity to kiss- what if he had, and she had been unable to do anything but respond? Where would he be now if that had happened? Still shocked at himself, the other half worked hard to calm and scold it's opposite. He watched her almond-eyes blink when she looked away, staring at her somehow fey features. Her gracefulness was paralyzing, though he kept his grin to prevent himself from revealing it. At least until he processed that they would be going to the same school. With her always within reach, he would never be able to get this girl out of his mind, tangled among his thoughts and stuck in his head, as surely as something might tangle in the grasp of his curly, kraken-like hair. He didn't know what to do if they shared a class. He wasn't distracted easily, but when he was, his attention was equally hard to re-distract from the original distraction- and surely Opelia Gaius (He grinned privately at the ancient Roman name.) would be a distraction no other girl in any class could rival, short of dousing herself in oil and lighting herself on fire.

When she told him where her room was, he swallowed so hard he felt there must be a brick in his throat. Did she really just do that? His train of thought was flung off of it's track. She was aggressive and forthright like no woman he had ever met, and if he were obligated to speak with honesty, he'd confess he thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Her expression was too inviting for him to not be affected. Even the way she bit her lip made his heart shake with knowledge that she had a hunger for him, little different from his own. "I'll see you then, and later as well." He promised vaguely, bidding her farewell. He began to walk away, but as he passed her, he looked behind him for a moment, his dark eyes clinging to her body and trickling down it, like twin raindrops on her skin. He jerked his head forward and proceeded straight to his apartment, pausing for a moment on the way, and taking note of where the apartment she had mentioned was.

He reached his door, and removed his key from his pocket to turn it in the lock, and push the door open. With a click, he was admitted into his cozy room full of stacked books, papers, and CD's. His wall was decorated with a wide variety of things, including a sheet of paper discussing the spiritual uses of cannabis, and another was of a heroic young man standing in front of a certain tank in Tiananmen Square. It was the latter he stared at later that night as he lay upon his back and tried to nudge his inert mind to plunge into the depths of sleep and mental peace. It was stuck where it was, however, and would not budge. Far upon the other side of the complex, he heard a siren's song haunting him, as bold as the trumpeting of a conch, echoing unceasingly, seemingly forever, just like the songs of the timeless waves in the ocean. It was hours before his eyes closed, and even then his dreams dragged him beneath the waves, and he could remember nothing more of what he dreamt than that. Curiously, he awoke in a sweat twice that night. "Hashem help me." He whispered to himself after guzzling a glass of water that was nothing less than Sharba to him in his parched state.