"I want you to take me." Rifkele whispered, all giggles drained from her voice. Manke stopped. Stared into her lover's brown eyes, those ones that seemed to bloom with purity and joy, even in the darkness.
"Are you certain?" Rifkele's smile crept back on her face.
"Yes." She stretched out her hand. Unfolded her creases.
No one had ever existed but them two, and no one ever would for all eternity. In the dimly-lit twilight, they'd still be twirling. Intertwined into one, under the rain. Two streams of water flowing from opposing lips, tumbling into a fountain of moonstone. After a moment, Manke uncoiled her arm to caress Rifkele's cheek. In turn, a rose bloomed where Manke had touched her and Rifkele jerked away, as if her fingertips had unearthed an open wound.
Blood-soaked words came spilling out, "My father. Yekel. He beat me."
Manke gently brushed over the same place on her cheek, smoothing over the wound once more. "He won't hurt you anymore."