The Desert's Edge ➣ Gloss/OC

Epilogue

Epilogue

"That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;

So shall you share all that he doth possess,

By having him making yourself no less."

1.3, 92-94 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

A blustering wind sweeps over Elara, lifting wisps of hair from the carefully braided updo that Cashmere had spent the better part of the afternoon on. As the auburn strands are pushed into her eyes, the gust picks up the hem of her dress and it flies forward. It bandies against her legs for a few fierce moments before fluttering back down in layers of gauzy chiffon. She feels like the air that breezes into her; as light and buoyant as the clouds. In the dark of night, with the stars blaring through the heavens with such candor, her white dress glows.

And then there is him. If she glows, then so does he. Elara doesn't think she's ever seen him as perfect as he is now, if only because he's about to be completely and utterly hers.

He smiles when he sees her, and she smiles back. She doesn't spare a glance at Cashmere and Amelia as they idle nearby, nor to the man who will be presiding over the small ceremony. She can look nowhere but forward; nowhere but at him.

When he reaches for her hand, she clutches him so tightly that it's almost as if she's afraid to let him go, as if she thinks he'll disappear on her. He wants to tell her that that's nonsense. He's had plenty of opportunities to do just that over the course of eight long years. He hasn't been able to let her go then, and he sure as hell isn't about to let her go now. He's waited for this moment for so long that his heart is full to bursting. With what, he can't say. Love and hope, nervousness, excitement – it all bundles together inside him with such force that he can't form any words at all. Instead, he just pulls her to his side and twists his fingers into hers.

"You look gorgeous," he tells her, and grins.

Elara grins too and squeezes his hand. In a shaky tone, she whispers, "I'm nervous. I don't know why."

There's no reason to be. This gathering is intimate. They might as well be alone on the edge of the world itself. The city is behind them, with all its lights and all its noise. Ahead is the vast expanse of the desert and the brilliance of the universe as it slowly reveals itself to them in the final rays of the setting sun. Dusk is falling hard, alighting the sky with a range of color that almost doesn't seem real. It is like she's standing in the middle of a dream. She thinks that, perhaps, she is. This has been her dream for years.

Gloss swallows. He murmurs, "I am too, but I do know why."

She turns to him to ask, "Tell me?"

He smiles and shrugs, "It's because I'm still wondering if this is a dream and I'm about to find out that none of it is real. That the war never happened and that you're still in District 5...that you'll always be out of my reach."

Elara feels her eyes fill with tears, which she blinks away before they can appear. She's cried too much lately. She doesn't want to anymore. And yet – his words somehow mirror her own feelings perfectly, and she thinks that perhaps that's why she's nervous too. She's so accustomed to never being able to have all of him that suddenly, the prospect seems impossible and nerve-wracking.

She exhales and breathes, "It's not a dream, though. It's real."

At this, Gloss smiles. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and for a moment she thinks that his eyes look a bit watery too, until he sighs and reaches up to smooth down a wispy strand of her hair. As he puts it back into place, he says, "Let's go."