Moonlight caressed the walls. A small breeze made the curtains flutter slightly, letting in more light.
A figure flew past the partially open window, features indiscernible.
There was a faint smell of iron in the air, from all the blood that had been shed.
A few moments later, an explosion shook the manor.
A while later two figures trudged their way back through the corridor. Tired and battle worn, mentally drained.
The figures came into view of the window and both looked out.
They saw the world for all it is, the good and the bad and they embraced it. Whether that be a warm embrace full of love and warmth, or a cold, lifeless embrace. Every rose has it's thorns. And they were thankful for their second chance.
The male figure turned to the female figure. Behind all the clumsiness and tom-foolery of day-to-day life, there would always be this. The long walk down the corridor, leaving them with their thoughts.
Suddenly the male grabbed the females face, turning it slightly. Her glasses caught the moonlight and it shone into his eyes.
They always messed up in the day time and were fierce and calculating at night. They were free to unveil their alter egos at different times, different occasions, but never allow for them to meet.
Cautiously Bardroy lent in towards Meyrin. She shut her eyes as their lips touched softly. They shared this mixture of light and dark and feelings beyond their control.
Meyrin pulled away, realising what was going on.
Suddenly a loud yelp was heard. "Ouch Meyrin! My hair's caught in your glasses, stop stepping away from me!"
Meyrin panicked and flailed at the whole situation, blushing furiously. While Bard fought with Meyrin's glasses and his hair.
"What's going on down here?" Asked Finny innocently. "I heard a shout."
Finny got closer. "Bard how did you get your hair caught in Meyrin's glasses?"
Meyrin panicked again at the thought of their current situation and jumped back. She was much more comfortable with killing people than kissing people.
The sound of a vase breaking and bard screaming were heard simultaneously. The vase shattered on the floor, and Bard's hair was ripped from his scalp.
You remember how I said earlier that the clumsy and calculating alter egos would never meet? Well, maybe I was wrong.