“Once more into the fray.”
They spoke in unison, their voices harmonizing as they moved simultaneously. Two blades, one dark and one pale, moved like two parallel shards of utter nothingness and pure starlight respectively, rising, falling, and twisting on twilit air.
The feminine one looked to their masculine counterpart. “Jinx,” the dark one said.
The pale one rolled eyes heavenward. “I was just about to say that,” the masculine one grumbled with a small smile.
The rattle and growl of the gray legion that circled them enveloped the feminine one’s answering quip, drowning word and thought as the opposition spoke with one voice as well. The issued command vibrated the fabric of reality and sent body-aching tremors through the pair: “JOIN. JOIN. JOIN.”
“No,” Pale said simply.
“Better to be at war than to feel nothing,” Dark added.
“ALONE. ALONE. ALONE.” The rally cry of the legion. The observation of their host.
Dark looked to their partner and the masculine one nodded gravely.
“We are not alone,” they said.
“DIE. DIE. DIE,” the gray ones said and, bearing tooth and claw, they swarmed together like the aperture of a camera, swallowing the two in a photograph to last the ages. Dark and Pale were back-to-back, sweat trickling down their faces, their hair whipped by currents controlled by their most hated adversary: the loss of individuality.
Teeth gnashed. Battle cries clashed. Shards flashed.
Love does not really exist, the gray ones taught.
Love does not really exist to you lot, the mirror preached.
To the end, Love, in either respect, would not be respected by either party in the end.
Forged in war, the partners would not last past the settling of the smoke. Their love would not survive past the final drop of blood. Dark and Pale sought ultimate refuge away from the routine and lack of complexity found in the Masse of the Gray, but they had already found that sanctuary in each other. Perhaps they simply refused to acknowledge it, secretly knowing that the admittance of their folly would destroy the fragile dream they had imagined together.
The truth was, peace would never be had between them unless they were at war, and there would be no more war after the legion was destroyed. Their last adversaries would fall to their defiance of the twilit natural order, and the two of them would turn on each other, knowing no other way to exist; no other way to live; and no other way to love…
That is the true pity of it all.
Downtown Platinum (c)2017 Karin Mayville
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