Swish. Swish. Swish. The blades cut through the night air with extreme precision, slicing through the insufferable tension. All is quiet and not a bit peaceful.


A throat clears.

A pair of fists tighten around a pillowcase.

Swish. Swish. Swish.


An irritated sigh rings out.

Nostrils flare. The pillowcase is clutched harder.

Clink. Clink. A single fingernail taps against a single four-prong solitaire.

"Stop it."

"I wasn't aware I was doing anything."

"Well, you are. Quit making so much noise. I need to go to sleep."

"Then sleep, by all means, darling. I hope the bugs of the bed do not murder you in your sleep." The voice clearly contradicts its goodnight wish.

"The phrase is 'don't let the bed bugs bite'."

"Perhaps these bed bugs are quite vicious." The voice's bitter pillow talk is noticed by its bedmate.

"Listen, let's just forget about it."

"I shall do no such thing!"

"I mean until morning," The second voice groans and presses its face into the cool area of the pillow, "Then we can argue all we want."

"But that is it; I do not want to argue with you! I wish us to make amends before we fall asleep."

"Why?" The second voice grumbles against the white cotton.

"I am merely afraid that if we do not forgive one another tonight and one of us perishes in our sleep, the other shall live with that regret for síoraíocht!"

A slight sniffle sounds from the darkness.

Creak. The fists uncurl and wrap themselves against the lovely waist of the voice. A face presses against crimson hair and inhales the scent of lilacs.

"Hush, Kori," The voice soothes the trembling body, "That would never happen."

"And how are you to know? It could possibly occur and then there you or I will be, wishing we had-" Creak.

The smooth surface of his lips glides over hers. Two pairs of legs entangle, wrapping around each other as two bodies meld. Bright sea glass meets piercing emeralds.


"Yes, Richard?"

"I love you."

"I love you, as well, Richard."

"Good." A pale nose rubs against a tanned one as the lips meet again in a rush of passion.

"Yes, good indeed."A giggle bubbles into the cool night air.

Swish. Swish. Swish. The blades cut through the night air with extreme precision, slicing through the passionate tension. All is quiet and peaceful.

AN: Or perhaps not everything is quiet. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. This was just a simple drabble, but I'm always a fan of the verb-blurbs, as I like to call them, although I added a bit of dialogue in this one, obviously.

Síoraíocht- "eternity"