Lava ex machina
by Karnov "Kharnov" Karnovsky
Love is one of those things you never forget, like a soft whiff of perfume from some forgotten damsel, a ride through the countryside with your beloved, a freshly picked truffle shared between two. The day I met him will never slip past my memory. Forever my Lava, forever my Beloved.
At my chateau in Avignon I spent many summers, nursing my wounds from the Great War whilst cultivating a fine harvest from my vineyards. 'twas mid-summer when I was picking my fleshy Merlot that I had first seen him in my fields, his windswept hair trailing in the breeze, his lips a deep wine red. A deep Merlot red. The coincidence had not struck me at the time, for I was immediately blinded by love. I chased him merrily through my fields, bounding after him with a new bounce in my step, for I had learned to love again.
Vexed by my amorous advances, Lava evaded me for many days, disappearing into the tangled vines before I could catch his supple frame. War had aged me beyond my years, but it had taught me patience. Those trenches had left me a different man, no longer a youthful idealist of yesteryear but a hardened veteran. There could be no tears anymore, no disappointment, only my Lava, now and forever. Steadfast, I descended into the greenery with naught but my love, and emerged hours later holding him in my arms, sweat dripping from my brow.
After weeks of silence, during which my love had never left his room, I at last caught him draped in bedsheets, rummaging through my pantry. He spun around to face me, his youthful face white in the terror of the moment, his chartreuse eyes staring at me quizzically, wanting, no, desiring an answer. My response came as I pressed my lips to his, holding his head in place with the firm grip of my hands. As I withdrew nearly an eternity later, I whispered lovely things into his ears and gently caressed his cheeks. Tears, not of terror, but of joy.
"
I don't understand, Kharnov. If you hate me so much, why did you invite me into GT? So I can be an attention whore too?" he gasped, faltering under my touch like a ripe grape spilling forth its lovely nectar.
"
Silence, my love. We'll settle this in the master bedroom," I muttered in response to his query, as once more I took him into my arms. He was as a cherub, light and pale as air, expediting my ascent up the grand staircase.
As I took each bound up the stairs, my feet pounding in lockstep with the pounding of my heartbeat, I laid my dearest Lava upon the finest satin pillows and slowly swayed around the bedroom as I lit a candle for every day that I promised to love him. The entire abode had been lit from wall to wall with the flames of passion, each stick of scented wax offering its own say in the grand commotion of odors. Minutes melted by like the trickle of liquid tallow dripping from the racks on the walls, pooling on the floor until a mighty sea accumulated. The bed was our boat, and we rocked the sea of love as we consummated our hasty marriage.
For hours we laid there in the afterglow, gazing upon each other as if we had been the creator, the one who had given rise to all love and beautiful things in the world, the source of all that was pure and delightful. It did not matter that morning had soon approached, for there was no time outside this humble dwelling, no responsibilities, the harshness of the world drowned out in the sighing of an angel. My angel. My Lava. I kissed him before I slipped off into slumber, every muscle in my body pleading for but a few hours respite.
As I awoke nearly a day later, there had been no movement by my side. Had my love gone off to the outhouse? Perhaps to the pantry once more to raid like the rascal he was? No, there was something under the covers to my side, but there was no movement, no sound of breath. With a great wail I cried out in anguish, tearing away the blanket from the body of my seraph.
Gripping his shoulders with both my hands, I shook him desperately, trying to coax him back to life. I gave him my breath into his lips, I searched desperately for an obstruction in his gullet. No! Not my Lava! Please, take me instead! In all my commotion, I had not noticed that his eyes had opened once more.
Gasping for breath, he could barely crane his head up to look at me, let alone speak. I knew for an instant that my love had been too much. There could be no doctors to call for, no aid that could be given to my love, but for my companionship at the bedside in his final moments of lucidity.
"
Oh, I don't feel so hot anymore," groaned Lava, for the last time. He sunk into a deep sleep, the eternal sleep, that which separates lovers forever. Distraught, I looked to the sky, pleading to heavens above for an answer as tears streamed down my quivering cheeks like the river Rhine. This was a joke! This must have been a joke! The answer laid in my dresser. Binding my bayonet to my shaking left hand, I did what many of those bloodthirsty Prussians had desired to do in those trench charges. Upon my last dying gasps I embraced my Lava, our sanguine love pooling around us in deep crimson. Blood, rich like magma. Love, rich like Lava.
The real joke, folks, is that Lava was given admin in the first place. gg.
Fin. 
