Her long dark hair danced down her body in a natural way. Her beautiful blue eyes stared wisely into his. Her heart shaped face dimpled beneath those crystal eyes as she smiled, showing off her lovely white teeth. Her small, pointed nose accented this, rosy lips. Her long column of a neck ran down to somewhat broad shoulders. Her breasts were somewhat on the small side. Her beautiful midsection led in an hourglass to her female sex. Her hips came out as the widest part of her body and led into long, long legs. Her feet were a size six at the most. Back her shoulders, her long, muscular arms ended with long, graceful fingers.
His hair matched her shade and was close to her length, tied back loosely. His own own beautiful eyes of hazel beheld hers with a greater wisdom than hers, stretching back over a thousand years. His long face was carried no dimple as he smiled, showing off a fangless grin, as he was returned to where he had first begun. His long nose led a trail down to his thin lips. His strong, muscular neck came to his own broad shoulders. His beautifully strong chest led down a perfect midsection. The man was well endowed with his sex. His legs led down to large, size thirteen feet. His arms stretched perfectly with well earned muscle ending with large, calloused hands.
But do not be fooled. Do not see perfection. Open your eyes.
The woman has fought for the light in her glassy eyes. Look at her wrists again. They're not self-inflicted by a confused teenager. Nor are the ones littering her thighs in strategic patterns. She did not ask for the scars that run her back in perfect symmetry. They were not given by accident, but by absolute lust for her suffering.
The man once carried the thoughts and lusts of a beast trying to take his soul. Trying to twist him into the monster everyone saw. The callouses upon his hands were centuries-old burns from his element, loosed from all control within the darkness that consumed the man's being. His muscles, though most saw them as a source of pride, were from trying to find some way to channel the beast, the madness. It was hard to find pride within them when they had killed people for revenge or for sport for the madness.
Neither was perfect. Both were used. Both were abused.
Neither was forgotten. Both were trying to get used to the new-found light, even after several years. Both depended on that light.
Both stared into each other's eyes, taking their fill of that light.
That was new. It was fought for after it was stolen.
It meant everything to them.
Even the man would die without it. Whose pride outweighed everything else, except for the light.
The woman smiled softly.
The man grinned sharper.
No words could explain this light.
It was already explained.
It took years. It was simple.
Inexplicable...