A/N: Am stressed, and not feeling too well. Was looking for Raven/Lucius fics to make me feel better. There's a SERIOUS lack of those... Ummmm, yes. I need something light, fluffy and cheery. This fic will be light, fluffy, and cheery. It may well be the last happy fic I write.
...Although I guess that's not saying much, huh... Looking as how I DON'T write happy fics...
And I tend to be QUITE over-dramatic. So feel free to ignore my self-angst. --;
Oh yes. I do indeed describe a whole lot. In fact, this whole fic is almost all descriptions. ; The only time the names are ever mentioned is when they talk to each other. ;

Disclaimer: It's miiiiiiiiiiiiine, miiiiiiiiiiiiiine, I tell you! Myyyyyyyyy preeeeeciousssssss... holds up game Seeeeeee? And I'm never lending it out! cackles Neeeeeeeeever!
...Alright. I don't own the rights to Fire Emblem. Someday, I hope to, as I'm planning on being a video game designer. You will know I've succeeded when bishounen-filled games like this carry more than mere "hints" of yaoi. ;

Warning: Ummmmm... Just the slightest bit shonen-ai... Really, the description implies more than the story does. ; But anyway, Raven/Lucius, if you must know.

Like This...?

Softly came the pitter-patter of raindrops, flinging themselves against the canvas tarp. Gently, weakly, they beat upon it, knowing they could do nothing. Slowly, they rolled off, drip-dropping into the grass, collecting like midnight dew, their identities lost as they melded into puddles.

Cerulean eyes watched a flickering flame, its burning tongue licking at the wood, tasting, devouring. Hair of topaz, of gold, of pure sunlight, shimmered in the radiance.

It could not defect the dark clouds. It could not cease the insistant raindrops.

"So futile..."

The soft words slid through the night, so at place with the crackling of fire and tittering of raindrops as to be almost unnoticed at first. Finally, a crimson head turned, acknowledging their presence.

"What is, Lucius?"

The gentle voice spoke again, his thoughs rolling upon the wind, belonging to the darkness, to the storm.

"Their actions, Lord Raymond. Them."

Harsh was the second voice, though soothing its tone, as one who became so in practice with anger that he could not easily break out.

"Who?"

"Them."

"Them?"

"The raindrops, my lord. The logs. Even the fire. All of them."

Eyes like pools of frozen blood turned their gaze fully to the speaker. Slowly, a brow arched. "How so, Lucius? Do you care to explain?"

Amber lashes lowered, veiling clear azure. "The drops... They fight to enter into here, yet they know they could not. Why do they still try? They start from the heavens, and where are they now? Beneath the carpet of grass, mixed amongst the rich earth, trampled and drank until they are nothing but substance for another. Why do they fall...?"

Glimmering ruby was fixated, mesmerized. "And the logs...?"

Cloudless sky turned, slowly meeting the question in burning ember. "Fuel... Substance, once again. They grow, mighty and proud, only to be the root of such beauty... such destruction."

The scarlet head tilted in question. "But the fire... How is its act futile?"

Silken sand shifted, settling around shoulders fitted in bluebell-and-pearl, as pale hands framed a delicate face. A ghost of a smile flitted across full lips. "It devours and devours, my lord. But what does it gain? If it takes everything, then what is left? If it engulfs the world, Lord Raymond..."

"What is not futile?"

"I know not, my lord."

"Is this struggle futile too?"

"Perhaps. But I cannot answer for you."

A hint of a smirk, albeit a gentle one, tugged at the corner of the strong mouth, as the firm hand tenderly grasped the fragile visage.

"Then answer for yourself."

For a moment, milky lid hid eyes of deep ocean. The soft voice lifted as music. The correct answer. The happy answer. The answer that said "no more broken hearts".

"Yes, my lord. But there is no struggle. There has never been one."

"Hn." A snort, holding no menace. "Is there not?"

Sapphire into ruby, sky into blood. Steady reply, firm as the hand upon his face. "There is not."

"Good."

Silence, blessed silence when two hearts could just behold each other. Trembling, the once-harsh voice struck up the question again.

"The it should be like this...?"

Soft body, draped in silken cerulean, in gossammer moon-pale gauze, relaxed against the midnight-clad form of the battle-hardened mercenary.

"Yes... Like this..."

A/N: sweatdrop Did anyone even get that? Yes? Good. No? Oh well. I'm certainly not going to clarify. It was entirely spur-of-the-moment, too. Maybe that's why it didn't make any sense. ; But it gave me pretty images!
Did it help? No, not really. Well... momentarily, I suppose so. But, most unfortunately, it didn't last long enough to ease my heart. Didn't last long enough for the object of my worry to arrive and tell me she's alright...
sighs
But I guess that doesn't really matter... does it?
Was it entirely pointless...? No... I suppose not... Although it wasn't really purposeful either, was it...