Disclaimer: Mine is mine, while Marvel's is Marvel's!
The green hills rolled all around them, rising from the ground and then descending in a gentle slope. The green came from the waving grass, arching up and waving there blade shapes, daring anyone to step on them. Those who did were gifted with a stab from their needle sharp edges and a splotch of the grasses green blood.
Upon these grassy hills walked two figures. One was small and delicate, like a tiny rosebud. And like the young rose she resembled, she seemed to hold herself close and together, almost afraid to show her petals to the world, afraid that they might not find them beautiful.
So she held her secret inside, remaining beautiful to most any eye, but casting a sense of being incomplete all about her. It was obvious, like it was with the flower bud, that the true beauty had not completely been unfurled, that the petals lay hidden, wrapped up tightly around her body.
One couldn't help but wonder what this small beauty was hiding from. Was she hiding from fear? The fear of being rejected, cast out and called unbeautiful? What kept this lovely rose hidden from the world?
Beside her walked a man with golden hair and brilliant sky blue eyes. His hair shone like the very sunlight that sparkled down on them, heating the air until it was just right. He held the small girl's hand in his own, sun brown fingers holding five alabaster digits.
He shone like the sun in the light, glowing with warmth and love and generosity. One could feel the heat of the love that the giant sun man felt for the scared rose afraid to bloom beneath him. And she could feel it too, the heat of the sun's love caressing her smooth cheeks.
The girl basked in it like a flower would, drawing in her strength from the rays of the golden sun. It lit her up, made her shine like a sparkling diamond newly polished. But this shine, this sparkle was nothing artificial. This glow came from the inside, the glow of a woman who loves and is loved in return.
The golden man beside her looked down at her, feeling a blast of emotion, so pure that it nearly made him cry, shoot through him. How had he gotten so lucky as to have this woman's beautiful heart, a heartbeat that was dearer to him then his very own?
Perhaps sensing his warm eyes upon her, she turned to look up at him, her own eyes sparkling with joy and laughter. She smiled at him, her lips quirking into the lovely curved line that he so loved. The soft redness of her lips made her look very kissable indeed, and he felt the sudden desire to do just that leap through him.
He fought it often with valiant effort, but the need, the longing was too great. One minute he was standing looking at her; the next she was crushed in his arms, her mouth open to his sudden need to share his warmth with this small beauty.
She was filled with it, awed by his strength and the sudden passion that seemed to shoot right through him into her. She let it fill every inch of her, felt it touch parts of her soul, her heart, her mind, and her body that she had never been before.
His love was so complete and so strong that it became a part of her. Since she had taken part of him as her own, it was only fair that she give him part of her. She let go of her part, let it slid into him as his had slid into hers.
And then they were one, utterly and completely. They would never be alone again, because wherever one went, the other would follow. They would always be in each others hearts.
In the green hills of Kentucky, Tabitha Smith and Sam Guthrie found the true meaning of love. Darkchilde's Stories
