It was the darkest night Ariadne had ever seen. It should have been terrifying, but with Mal next to her on the bed with only the dim light of a small lamp over her features, it just felt intimate. The darkness of the outside didn't feel like a threat, it just helped create a space that seemed to exist only for them to be in. And it was, after all. A dream built by Mal for showing Ariadne something she had been working on.
When she had asked the reason behind the dream's unnatural darkness, Mal had smiled softly and caressed Ariadne's lips in the gentlest of hushings. And then, Mal gave her a look that never failed to make Ariadne feel breathless. It was one of open, raw adoration, the same one she directed at her just after making it out alive from a particularly dangerous job or when Ariadne moaned under her and smiled in between.
Then, Mal closed her eyes.
"Do the same," she whispered, her fingers caressing the side of Ariadne's jaw.
Ariadne obeyed. Mal got out of bed and Ariadne instantly missed the touch of that skin that always felt warm, seemingly burning with passion and determination.
A couple of seconds passed. Silence. Maybe two minutes. Ariadne waited a little more, and finally took the absolute silence in the room as a signal to open her eyes.
She didn't know exactly what to expect. To see a person standing in the room, surely. But she had seen Mal forging a hundred times in the past, always being utterly brilliant at making real people her own characters to play and lie with. What did she want to show Ariadne that merited such suspense? How different a new forging technique could be from the others that Mal had already tried and dismissed or perfected?
Ariadne realized she was alone. The only sounds she could hear were her own breathing and Mal's name on her lips.
But then, she noticed what in the search of Mal had escaped her. The night wasn't so unnaturally dark anymore. In fact, something was shining outside, aiding the small lamp in illuminating the room. Ariadne walked towards the window with a confused frown that slowly vanished as an expression of pure awe took over her face.
To Ariadne, the moon had always been a protector and a muse, cold and unreachable in its greatness. That particular moon, however, made Ariadne feel warm all over and her eyes water in amazement, pride, adoration. It looked as, if it could speak, it would whisper words of love to the souls that stared at her looking for answers, for comfort, for someone. It was otherworldly.
This is it, Ariadne thought. The new standard of a limitless profession. Creation and transformation at their greatest. There was no competence left for Mal in the field. She was on a different level. She invented it.
Ariadne kept staring at the glowing moon. It seemed to be staring back.