Nocturne
By SMYGO4EVA
In his existence and in the very being of his soul, the magician Fai D. Fluorite was used to being alone, so no one would be worried or bothered by him or his silly needs. In turn, he had no one to worry about or to hurt if he was ever to do so by accident or even on purpose. There was no need to repeat history, no need for anyone else to get hurt because of him. He was fine by himself. He was content. As content as a mage could be. He dreamed all the time, though. He dreamed of a life where he didn't exist – what would have happened to Syaoran, Sakura, and Kurogane without him.
Now he was a creature of the night, a seeker of lifeblood so he would be kept alive, even though he wished for death in the first place, and yet, he wanted to live to see if all the feathers would be collected. In due time, he would have to get used to being bound to the night, bound to the black sky and resign to his fate, after living for so long, and begin to wish for death once again. What consequence would follow that wish, he didn't even want to know as he again resigned to the fate bestowed upon him.
The warrior Kurogane wanted to be the strongest so no one would even think about stepping in his way or they would feel the blade of his mighty sword against their dirty throats. He had managed to kill demons, spirits, people who no one else could have killed. He dared to do what no one else would. For the longest time, he had thought he did this for noble reasons. And he still did, there was no mistaking that. It was only recently he had realized that he killed and fought just because he could. He could do what no one else dared to. He could kill the bastards who had been terrorizing his group of companions because he could, as well as finally stopping them from ever living on.
He never chose this, but he knew he had to do what was given to him, even if he didn't like the idea very much. Being a warrior gave him strength and power like none other, and he loved the fighting so much that he wouldn't even blink to make him kill something inferior than he. He would let a smile of extreme malice snake across his face to let his opponents know that what would be left of them would be red as blood when he finished them off. He secretly enjoyed having that much control over someone else. It was as if his soul had been dipped in the wax of perpetual twilight. And he loved every moment of it.
The magician and the warrior both wanted something for themselves; something would make them feel like their existence was worth living, even in a world of black darkness, where there was no hope of ever seeing the light ever again. The world was so black for them even to comprehend once they have accepted the dark as a part of their being, their identity, and a part of their true selves. In this abyss of what was left of what was good and pure was all they had to hold onto, and they have tossed those aside, and that was they wanted. To throw what was made of lies and only parodies of what they truly are was almost relieving for them, and in the dark, they would stay in the truth, a dark side to all.
The truth was in the bits and pieces of what was left of their souls, as they have succumbed to the darkness and awaken who they have tried to hide for as long as they can remember. Even so, the darkness that they were to step into, and the darkness that they already had stepped into, was inevitable only to them; it all was. Infinite blackness was all they could have wished for, and the consequences of such wishes left them in the beautiful nocturne for all time.