To Zoeya, Rythian was purple. Purple and black. He was an eerie glow in the blackness of night, fading in and out on some strange personal timer. He pushed people away, a troubling light in the forest no one dared investigate. He was night, and fear, and darkness.
But he was also an oasis, a comforting protection. As much as he pushed her away, he pushed others more, and so they were alone, and safe. His haunting light was a beacon of protection to those who chose to see that it was. It was a reminder that there is more than sirens echoing from nothingness. As long as she could be scared of him, and miss him, and be comforted by him, she was alive.
When monsters or men crawled too close, he was there to whisk her away. He was there to gather her in his arms and chase away the memories. With him, she was safe. She was home.
To Rythian, Zoeya was red. Red, and orange, and yellow. She was a flame that kept him from wandering into the night, a guiding light away from the darkness. She was the last link to a world purple claws threatened to drag him from. She was the reason he refused to just give up. Because, Notch would it be easier to just give up.
She was there to push away the encroaching insanity that sat in the corner of his conscious, thirstily awaiting a lapse in his carefully constructed guard. She was a distraction, one that kept him focused on this world and not the other, on forgiveness instead of ever-lasting grudges, on creation instead of destruction.
She kept him him. She kept him from becoming what he was and yet wasn't, what he didn't want to be. She kept him sane, even as the world fell into insanity. With her, he was safe. He was good.
Apart, she grew scared, and lonely. Apart, he grew hateful, and dangerous. Together, she was crazy, and he was losing his mind. But she was his kind of crazy, and he was in her mind. Together, they were a whirlwind of colours, purple and red, black and yellow. They made no sense, but they were perfect. And they were together.
