"Beautiful", he had said as he reached one of his long red nails and brushed my cheek. The soft hands and sharp nails of a mage. I could feel his hands burning with his power. The hint of magic. Finally, a kindred spirit amongst this crowd of strangers. Standoffish, I recoiled away and drew my arms over my chest.

"Call me Kefka, pretty one." he said, a smile spreading slowly across his painted face as he looked at me curiously, unashamedly staring at the feathers in my hair.

"Kuja". I responded wearily, looking at him back.

The man called Kefka laughed openly and that was that. At least, he didnt allow it to be any other way. He was always appearing behind me, always shadowing me. We were two beings of magic and malice. Kindred spirits of hate.

We weren't much for conversation, well at least I wasn't. Kefka would often speak to me, a string of long thoughts I couldnt follow, words I didnt recognize. Terra, magicite, Terra... I'd remain quiet usually, watching his animated face and the cold light in his eyes. Empathizing with only his anger.

Oh, and he would try to get me to talk. He wanted to know my past, who I am, my own brand of hate... I prefer silence on such subjects sometimes and I think that angered him...however dare I admit I respected his power? Maybe even feared that it surpassed mine? So I'd give him answers, talk to him back.

Unless...he asked about Zidane. One mention of my baby brother's name elicited a less than stoic response from me. A dirty look, a burst of angry magic... sometimes I think he did it on purpose. He enjoyed the game, the power play. The crackling of magic in the air and the physical pain that reminded us that we were alive.

It never went far...we both knew that if we wanted to actually hurt one another or at least settle who would come out on top...we'd have to be cruel. Two mages of almost equal power, locked in an odd dance of competition and comradeship. We learned a lot from one another though the pain, it teaches. Sometimes to know magic, is to know pain.

On some day during one such battle...he let his magic waver suddenly. I stopped for a moment but before I could interpret his game...he teleported right next to me. I could feel the heat of magic radiating off his body, feel the brush of his clothes...

I watched him and I waited...

He closed the last distance between us as his hand moved to the feathers in my hair. He brushed them, lightly but pain never came. Instead he withdrew his hand slowly and stepped back, gazing at me. I was paralyzed...with what? with anger? I was highly self conscious about those feathers. A constant reminder of my unnatural state, a mockery of what was human. An angry fire spell to anyone who dared let their gaze linger on them for too long. I'm not sure if it was anger I felt though...fascination?

Or was it...was it more of a reflection I saw in his eyes? Of myself in him? Could this be a glimpse into the future...if my anger drags me down the spiral to utter madness?

His eyes flicked up again to the feathers in my hair. "Like an esper..." he whispered almost inaudibly. Esper? I was frozen on the spot. A realization. He won this battle and I am his prize.

His hand suddenly turned from gentle to rough and he pulled me forward, our eyes locking for a brief moment again. And then I closed them. I closed my eyes as Kefka kissed me. As his lips met mine. Roughly. Angry magic and passion mixing with lust, with desire. There was nothing gentle about it.

But I did not pull away. I submitted. I let myself only feel, feel what he was doing to me. For once in my life, it was a relief to not hold all the power. To follow.

I couldnt open my eyes to meet his as it happened...I knew now that I could see myself in him...like gazing into shadow, into a mirror darkly.

And he stepped back and grinned, magic flaring up around him once more. Let the next battle begin.