1000-words exactly. Lately I've been rather enamoured with the idea of writing to an exact word limit. I've manage to make it the first time, both times I've tried it. I wonder what that means? Meh. I'm sure I'll get over it.
Virtues.
By Tyger.
The thief sat, and watched them.
He didn't particularly like them, but he watched them anyway. He had to, his beautiful one was with them, and he had to look after his beautiful one. Even if he didn't need it. Even if his beautiful one was strong enough to kill them all with no more than a flick of his wrist, he still had to look out for him. His beautiful one wouldn't hurt them, even if they deserved it thrice over. That's what he was for, after all.
It was funny, the thief mused. How they all said the they were opposites to their Others. Bullshit. If they were opposites to each other, than they wouldn't look the same. Either Sunshine or the Pharaoh would be tall and quite unremarkable-looking, contrasting the other to the infinite degree. But they were both leather-obsessed midgets with extraordinarily odd hair. Of course.
They all knew that they were soul-bound partners, one the reincarnation of the other, so to speak, but they never took the theory further, never understood the why of which it worked, and never fully realized the implications of having a split soul. Never realized that they were in pairs for a reason, and that it was the pairs that balanced, not the individuals. Never realized that instead of being opposites, they were simply different possibilities the same soul could become, but that they were still intrinsically the same. Never realized, that despite being two different minds, both of the pair were both at a complete understanding of the other because they were the same. Not because they shared a mind he and his beautiful almost never used their mind-link; people had invented technology for a reason they didn't need to waste their magic on something that could be done just as easily by technology, or even simply speaking to the other but they always knew what the other would do in any given situation. He knew that perhaps the others weren't quite at that level of closeness yet, he and his beautiful had known each other for a lot longer than the others not that they knew that and had become much more in tune with the other's soul.
They didn't understand that there was, without exception, one virtue that both in the pair represented and believed in with all their heart. It wasn't hard to see, if you knew what to look for, but they were all so blind to it. It was probably because of his beautiful one. He acted the exception, though in truth he wasn't.
The Pharaoh and his Sunshine were the easiest to figure out. Their upright bearing, their moralistic values, and the obvious difference between the light of their soul and the darkness were a dead giveaway. And even if you didn't get it then, if you knew how the Pharaoh's victims became so, it was so obvious as to be blinding. They were Justice, and could see no shades of grey.
The Idiot Priest and the Programmer were also rather easy, provided you knew the Idiot Priest was more than he appeared when he was happy. Talk about bi-polar! Even if you didn't know that, the Programmer was rather obsessive of his virtue, and it stood to reason that the Idiot Priest felt the same way. They were power, of course, and could tolerate no weakness.
The Idiot Blonds…. were a little different. They could be quite tricky to figure out then again, they were both totally crazy. He knew he didn't understand them, and was quite happy not to. Understanding psychosis had never been on his list of priorities. Still, with a little thought he had managed to understand their virtue. Dominance they could never accept loss of control.
And him and his beautiful one? What was their virtue?
He knew it easily, of course, and was eternally amused that no-one had a clue about it. They were the hardest, he knew he took no pains to hide it, but his beautiful one was ever a most private person not ashamed of himself, just over-wary for his soul's safety. Not that the thief minded at all. Anything that kept his beautiful one away from the filth was fine by him, even if it was only in spirit.
Their virtue would be most surprising to those who thought they knew his beautiful one they could never accept that his beautiful one could ever be dangerous. But they had never known his beautiful one when he was young, they had never seen him when he had been broken. Not by him, never by him, but broken nonetheless. Never seen hatred and rage and pain and fear cloud his too-bright purple eyes, never seen the bloodlust. Never seen the mangled pile of flesh and bones that were the remains of he-who-had-broken-his-beautiful-one. Never seen him laugh at the sight, then burst into tears. Never had they known him at all, and never could they. His beautiful one was much too private for that.
He himself had come only just in time to salvage the scattered remains of his soul and his spirit and his life. Had come only just in time to teach him the virtue that lay at the bottom of their soul, waiting until it was needed. Though they always hoped that it would never be needed at all.
What was their virtue?
Revenge, of course. They could never allow one who hurt them to go unpunished.
The thief sat, and watched them.
He didn't particularly like them, but he watched them anyway. He had to, his beautiful one was with them, and he had to look after his beautiful one. He had to make sure his beautiful one never needed to find his deep-buried virtue again, that he never had to break his long-upheld façade of sweet-soft innocence and new-bright soul. His beautiful one had never wanted to kill another, and never wanted to again.
That's what he was for, after all.