Love is not always aglow. It can be incandescent, but where the light falls you may not want to gaze. Few are willing to embrace love's darkness, its wickedness. They were.
They liked the bleak perspective. They enjoyed toying with its edges until it frayed and fell onto their laps, covering them in knots. She would scoff at its perpetrated innocence and he would cackle at the unlucky ones who fell for its false face. They had seen love's rawness and relished in it beneath the onyx halo.
Their love was tinted with hallucinogenic greens stained with homicidal blue. It was cryptic and mystic, covered with plump cherries that stained her lips and his collar bone. It was sultry steps practiced underneath the hazy smoke of his home, where the candles flickered and faded to match their movements on the cobalt walls. If he happened to miss a step she would comment on how eternity was making him soft but he would prove later that if anything, age had only made him stronger. And wiser.
Time had schemed with Chaos and created his inexplicable adoration for her. Time scrapped away the youthful believes of Innocence and Forever, knowing he would never follow such things anyway. He would question it, poke it with his staff until it cast off its cloak and revealed its true image. He did not want pap and cooed compliments and mush that would leak through his bones, pooling at his feet. They gave him what he wanted, her. Her regal elegance, her sinfulness, her voluptuous torments that she inflicted on the innocent.
They had to work hard to coax her into accepting his sentiments and believing his words. He may be cruel, but he would not kid about his affections. They lay too close to his heart.
She was a weathered soul, the salt water and hurricanes wearing away her heart. She shunned him, told him he was a fool and isolated herself from his presence, but he pursued as every hero (or villain) does. He would not let her rest. Eventually it came to pass that she could not sleep without him invading her nightmares, causing her to wake with her heart thumping in her cranium.
Chaos grinned and shook Time's hand in congratulations. Their work was done.
Love is unicorns and twitterpation for those who cling to the story book tales of it. Yet for those exposed to its truthful glance, its penetrating reality, it is darker and rawer but so much more wonderful than anything a fable could describe. It was his love for her and hers for his that kept the cosmos in balance, the wheels turning, the sun rising and setting. At least to them that's what it was.
And who is anyone to judge love, no matter its form?
