AN: Sometimes a new fandom is exactly what I need to write about when I'm in a rut. Hi, y'all! Just a drabble here, kinda just to do something.
A Bit of Both
It's different from darkness.
It's black, pure, deep and rich; in the shadows, it can barely be seen at all.
Then light hits it.
And there's color in the stygian void.
A flash of red, reminding her of fire—the high sun sets it burning.
A tint of blue, reminding her of herself—dawn kisses it hello.
A weaving of gold with flecks of white, reminding her of goodness—the brilliant star gasps to breathe at night, trying to make the world remember it'll return, always.
That's her favorite color, and time of day.
Right now, the shadow is aflame in dancing crimson, blood-light hypnotizing in its sway.
She reaches out, transparent, yet solid, and she tries not to feel a little sad for some reason. The black turns gray and wan in her grip—ghostly, ethereal, inhuman.
The blackness is coarse yet soft.
She can feel it.
Its rough texture surprises her, a little.
It's dissimilar from battling her Other Half—her chaotic counterpart always felt smooth, perfect, meant to be part of her.
This darkness is new, engaging and frightening…
She's never been afraid of the dark before.
Blackness spills out of her grip, the shadow flying, and light in all directions dazzles the nothingness.
The wind tangles into the wisps of black, glad at its chance to touch this creature of humanity that rose above the rest.
He had turned around to face her. He had, undoubtedly, felt what she did.
She knows her face is inscrutable, unable to be deciphered yet these incomprehensible sensations flitter inside her, unlike anything she's ever experienced, and she wonders if it's noticeable.
So she is thankful that he can't read her expressions. Her voice is the only giveaway.
The darkness settles against him, ink on parchment, a valence of everything-yet-nothing. He stares at her questioningly but there's nothing accusatory in his stare. The gaze is warmly concerned and open. If black entered the gold, would it make the amber more prominent or bury it altogether?
She tries not to think about the light in his eyes fading.
His voice shatters the silence, asking her what's wrong.
Nothing is wrong.
However, everything suddenly seems wrong.
And, again, she doesn't know why.
Alive far longer than most beings, than most Spirits, and she can't understand why.
Maybe she just cares for him too much…
Yes, that's an issue.
But, because she just cares for him too much, thus is far from wanting to upset him—and to keep her little fascination a secret—she says no. Nothing is wrong.
She glides past him, light falling on, into, her body, causing it to unknowingly glow a stunning white with little flecks of gold, and the world is seen through her form, beautifully enhanced in solid mist.
He smiles behind her.
That's his favorite color, and time of day.