Disclaimer: SW is not mine. You know that.

This is just an evil little blurb I came up with while procrastinating.


Feuer und Wasser kommt nicht zusammen

Kann man nicht binden sind nicht verwandt

In Funken versunken steh ich in Flammen

Und bin im Wasser verbrannt

--Rammstein


She is beautiful, always captivating. The way her hair flows around her, like a curtain of flames, leaves me gasping for air, drowning me. The sparkle in her eyes – it never leaves her, not even when she cries – ignites a flame within me. It has burned from the day I first laid my eyes on her. It's always there, even when I close my eyes to sleep. It destroys me slowly.

But she is most lovely when she swims. She swims alone and naked. It does not matter to her. She likes to strip off her clothing, strip off her mask. She drifts on the surface of an arctic lake, still and untouched. I do not know what these words are describing. The lake, or the ethereal vision in my eyes? She is one with the clear, gentle water. Through it she glides, dancing like a little ray of light. Graceful. Weightless. Free.

The water, caressing her smooth, flawless skin, like the hand of a ghost. And I wish I could dissolve into it and stroke her small, delicate white legs…This lust and desire, scalding to the touch, searing my skin, eating its way to my flesh…Why does it torment me so?

My bare feet touch cool water, and I throw myself forward, disturbing the tranquility, breaking the silence. The water shatters around my face…drops like shards of ice, cutting, so cold that they burn…

I burrow into the depths – not a trace of her elegance. Into the deep, where the light starts to wane, where it cannot reach me. The water does not stroke me, it does not embrace me. It stings me, raking frigid claws against my body, seeking only to harm, to mangle…It does not love me.

I follow her, just close enough to absorb her absolute beauty, to drink in her aura. But no closer. I have not the courage. She does not see me. Never does. She closes her eyes. I am but a shadow at her back.

Up close, I can see the flames dancing around her porcelain face, curving, twisting, shimmering in the rays of sunlight streaming down to kiss her face. They do not reach me. I am but a dark form beneath her, bound to the black, murky depths. I am the beast waiting for its prey. I am the somber note in the water's silent song.

I turn away in shame. I have no right to stare at the lovely creature above, lest my filthy gaze soil her pure, white soul. Why lust after an angel, when she is so far above me? Why bring forth such agony? I lurk in the abyss, knowing that she can never love a dark little thing like me. She will not waste herself on me.

A dagger of black ice tears through my heart. But what's another wound, another scar, among so many? Infinitesimal. A teardrop breaking the surface of an ocean. The water is colder now, and the fire on her face sheds no heat.

It does not fuse to the waters, does not merge with them. It slices them, stabbing, piercing raging against it. For fire and water cannot be brought together. No force is strong enough to bind them. No chains can shackle her to me.

She frolics in the crystal fluid, carefree, innocent light. And I, the predator, stare hungrily at that which I will never have, a prisoner reaching through metal bars for the freedom he is denied, a meaningless little speck of dust, wishing so fervently for wings to touch the sky, forever left to wallow in the dirt. The water burns me.

I let myself sink further down, out of sight, to be forgotten…breathe in the lethal dusk…let it swallow me…Soon my heart will cease to beat…

But wait, something inside me breaks! I soar, soar like a phoenix...I grasp her tightly, never to let go. Her pale flesh is clammy as a fish. Glacial. Yet I do not set her free.

I choke her gently, tenderly. I take her beauty and devour it. I deface it. I crush, I rip, I tear, I strip, I shatter...I avenge. I love. I hate. I break. I burn. I drown. I die.