He was the dark,

tall and gangly

hidden in the shadows

hidden in indigo veins.

But she was his light,

bright and beautiful

and everything

he was not.

And he loved her for it.

She was the mage,

with a heart stitched

over her breast

and her love worn

on her sleeve.

But he was her prince,

his rage in his teeth

and destruction

in his palms.

And she loved him for it.

He had been quiet,

even since the beginning.

From before the game

that tore their world

to shreds,

before their eyes began

to shine the brightest

white-

before his eyes fell

on her.

Before-

before-

from when his love had been

only for those with

painted grins,

who laughed and preached

of the darkest of carnivals.

He was content,

he thought.

But she had waltzed in,

all masses of black hair

and glittering green eyes

and a song on her lips

and she had pulled him from

his cage

of false joys.

Soon they were together,

her walls decorated

in the brightest of red hearts,

his mind lightened

of their darkest thoughts.

They were together

and they were happy.

But

curled together in the depths

of the deepest sleep,

he dreamt.

He dreamt of dripping olive blood

the roar of vicious laughter

a cry

a scream-

was it him?

was it

the girl before his eyes

the girl before

his bloodsoaked talons-

his?

when

when his eyes pried

themselves open,

it was to green tinted tears

and a cry to awaken.

Thin streaks of emerald

the same as in his dream

stained his goddesses cheek

and slid down her neck,

it's iron scent

filling the air.

She shushed him then,

in a voice a little too loud

and a little too strained.

He had taken her

to the sylph of blue,

her gentle spider-touches

like a branding iron

to her ears.

She had given them a sad look,

cobalt lips

unusually silent.

The shining mage,

his glorious hellcat

would never again hear

even her own voice.

She next found him

after a fit.

In his rage,

his godly and righteous fury,

his teeth had torn through

his tongue

and a needle silenced

his cursed lips,

a mouth that had done worse

to his dream.

She saw him

and he smiled,

royal hues

of thickening warm blood

dripping from his mouth.

After a long moment,

she smiled back.

She was his everything

and he was her all.

Where once spun idle chatter

flying fingers now danced.

Where once fell laughter and

teasing quips,

snaked tendrils of musky,

curling smoke.

One a little too loud,

the other a little too silent.

And through stitches and curling lips,

he loved her

and she loved him,

and love was all they knew

in their world

of silence.