ninon marceline dupont-girard

20 | water |  2nd year | mereen | hera hilmar

»The possibility of connecting to someone completely, it's one in a billion. The opportunity doesn't just come around and knock on your door. You're born with it and you die with it, there's no other way around it. There's you and there's.. this other person and you're everything to each other. You can't function properly without him. There's a tightness in your chest every time he's away and when he's finally there beside you, you feel like exploding into a million pieces and with him you're not afraid, because you know he'd always pick up the pieces, put you together, make you whole again.«

You could look outside the window on a sunny Saturday afternoon and there they were, two little children with hair as red as fire and eyes with the reflection of happiness inside them. They'd roll around in the grass and they'd look like two little angels. She'd wear ribbons in her hair and he'd pick her up and twirl her. They weren't much like brother and sister, to be honest. They were a lot more like lovers, as if they could understand the word at the tender age of eleven. But they did, they somehow loved each other more than their parents ever did, more than anyone that ever came into their lives. They were different, Mathieu and Ninon, they were as if out of this world. Two stars from the heavens, perhaps. As if they were creatures from a fairytale. Of coruse, they somewhat were.

They'd quickly learn about their capabilities and they would, as they did in many things in life, complement each other in this as well. He could start a fire that she could always put out, and he would make her feel warm when she was too far gone. They were special. And they only belonged to each other.

They would get married at the age of fourteen. It was before any of them really figured out what life meant, how they were supposed to function in the world or what awaited them. They'd be playing in the garden, their parents busy at work, and he would put a ring on her finger, she would put a ring on his and they would exchange woes they made up theirselves. She promised him to never love anyone as much as she loves him, and he'd promise her to protect her from heartbreak and kill whomever stepped in the way of her happines.

They'd kiss at the age of sixteen. Not for the first time, of course, they'd always press their lips against the skin of the other, but this was different. He would tell her that it was okay, what they've done, because they loved each other. They lived in their own seperate world, so it was fine. They weren't like the rest of the world, the world wouldn't, even couldn't understand them, but it didn't matter, because they knew how they felt. After that, they would kiss often. He would kiss her neck as well, and leave her breathless, but they never crossed that ultimate line. There was that little voice in both of their heads that simply said it wouldn't be right, not because the norms wouldn't allow it, but rather because they knew something would change between them, and they simply couldn't afford that.


»If you lose that special counter-part you're gone. I'm gone. Just like that. There's no one there to make you full again. You're empty and you're lost and every day feels like the absolute worst day of your life and even when – if – it doesn't, the memories stir up emotions and sooner of later you break down and you wish it had been you instead of him. You'd so much rather it was you. It's been two years now and still it stings so badly. Sometimes at night I stop under our tree and look up the sky to see from which star you're looking down on me. You promised to protect me from pain, and yet the only thing you've done is caused it.«