Temporal distortion detected.
And they danced....
Feathers and red hair sway. Black shoes glide quickly and deftly across confetti covered concrete. The green dress twirls past colored lanterns and crackling sparklers. The band plays, faster. Every phrase echoed in their movements.
Pulling her arm just so, the fire-haired woman with the feathers in her hair darts back towards him. He steps to one side, as she floats by, one long slender leg with a stiletto-tipped heel reaches out. A flash of light followed by cheers, that nearly drown out the crash of wood and paper. The band begins to slow.
Back together now, the pair sways from side to side, locked closely together. The two stare into each others eyes for a momentary eternity. He presses his lips to her forehead.
The back of his jacket explodes, as the band quiets. The crowd screams, and the panic starts.
Darius looks down to the smoking gun in Twofeathers' hand. She smirks. Glancing over his shoulder, the man with the shotgun falls backwards into a plastic table with a sucking chest-wound.
Strewn about the street are the barely conscious bodies of the hit squad. Some crumpled in heaps amidst paper lanterns and tables. Others inexplicably dangling from awnings overhead.
Darius pulls a stray coil of hair from Twofeathers' face with a hand that carries a fading glow of its own. "You said you wanted to go dancing after all..."
"Not quite what I had in mind." She wraps his arm around her and tucks herself under it.
"We should probably get out of here..."
The pair calmly make their way out of the square, leaving the hit-squad moaning in the wreckage of the nightmarket. As the paper lanterns sway on into the night.
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