Blood and red rose petals.
They created an interesting combination, Luther mused, as he watched them swirl together in a gentle tornado. They looked as they were one in the same, the blood little droplets behind the petals of the roses. It was poetic, watching them as they whirled together. Silver and sapphire flashed in his field of vision, and the blond-haired man focused.
Across from him stood a young man of nineteen years, deep blue hair waving as the wind tugged at him. Bands of solid silver clasped his opponent's wrists, and a silver chain wrapped around the young man's head, weaving through sapphire-hued locks. A crystal raindrop rested in the center of his opponent's forehead. Gold rope hung about the youth's slender waist while white, crepon sheer material with sapphire trim clung to his body. The fabric had been cut into loose-fitting pants with the golden rope acting as a belt. Also, the sheer crepon wrapped around his opponent's torso, revealing just enough flesh to spike the imagination. A sword with a silver hilt was in front of the youth, stabbed into the ground. Pale fingers bound in crushed diamonds and silver grasped the blade, ready to strike.
Green eyes locked with his in the next moment, and Luther shivered. He saw an oncoming storm in those emerald depths, a storm of fire and lightning and hurricane-like winds. Anyone caught in the storm would not come out unscathed. Too much fire lived within the younger man, too much fire and too much ice.
His opponent stood straight, his gaze never wavering from Luther's blue stare. The wind around them whipped at the young man's flimsy-appearing clothing, tugging and trying to reveal the discreetly covered portions of anatomy.
Luther licked his lips in anticipation. The battle promised to be a fierce one, a challenge for the blond, and he could not wait for it to begin. The victor would be assured something most valuable from the defeated, a night of sweet ecstasy. He called his spear forth, keeping his eyes locked with his rival. Without saying a word, he summoned his own wind, fire drops and white rose petals mingling with the blood and the red rose petals. They were perfectly balanced, Luther and the young man, the opposite ends of the spectrum. Light and darkness, creation and destruction. The devil and his angel, God and his disciple. Luther smiled as he addressed the one before him.
"Welcome, Fayt Leingod. I have been expecting you."