During odd weeks of a year in The World That Never Was, there was a small competition between two members of the Organization. Pranks were pulled and rumors created in order to win this unspoken war. Never was there a span of more than two weeks where a response to the previous one appeared.
They were supposed to be natural enemies. Their element's spoke for that rumor. Just because a water elemental and a fire elemental fought didn't mean that they hated each other. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
Their antics could fool almost anyone if they disguised the hidden messages well enough. The slightest touch, produced in a more sensual way than an angry competitor should, sending ripples of shocking warmth through cold bodies. A small glance with blissfully bright eyes passing through the stark-white hallways.
What others couldn't see though, surely, were the happening's at night. As all other members lay snug in their black sheets and comforters, these two lie in their own beds separated by a thin wall.
They could not sleep, wondering if the other was. Imagining how angelic or god-like the other resembled whilst they slumbered. Though they continuously did this, they already knew the answer.
As the redhead lies awake with a blue lighting radiating from a lamp beside his bed, he sees a mark on his ceiling. A smirk rises to his face as he immediately recognizes the shape and knows who created it. He had been waiting for it.
A large portion of his white ceiling brandished a mark of water damage in the shape of a heart, shaded blue from the only light source on the room.
A small giggle escapes the lips of the Nobody on the other side of the wall. He knows he does this every night, and that it might be getting on the nerves of his beloved, but he doesn't care. (At least not enough to stop a tradition in the making.)
He opens his eyes wide and swings his upper body up and props himself up with his elbows. In a corner of his room sits a small fireplace (one he had to do many extra missions to persuade the Superior to let him have) all ready with a log waiting to be used.
A rush of excitement infiltrates his senses as he catches a glimpse of a microscopic spark, and makes him grin from ear to ear as he watches the log explode into a blaze.
With a red tinted face, he finally spots the formation he has been looking for within the dancing flames.
To a being not paying attention, the inferno would just be that. An inferno. But to someone like Demyx, who was plainly a good observer, this was a beautiful show of practice and devotion. It couldn't be easy creating flames to work that way.
A figure of a hand of flames reached for a blazing heart.
Their nightly ritual