Dreamscape
He knew her.
He saw her once in a freak dream, something that couldn't be explained. An image of power, of grace. Everything he molded himself after, as he pondered upon what she was. He was sure that no other could know of her... Only a superior being like himself could know of such a beauty, such a calculated being.
He, and only he, should ever know her.
It was his own dreams, his own mind that created her. No program could ever know her, not a soul or machine across all of the worlds would even guess her existence, for this was a well kept secret. A well kept weakness. The dreams were always vivid, always different.
He would find her, for she must be real.
She would come to the area of forests, trees, or even sometimes the desert itself. Her black body suit with the magenta shoulder, elbow and knee pads glowing in the light. The red sash covering the stomach and lower plating, her katana placed to her left side to be drawn from the right. Her grey mask covered her face, her dark hair always back into the high ponytail. He never got to see her eyes, which he longed to do so.
He wouldn't tell a soul.
She always came riding atop a fire cat, with two tails. And every time she came, she would swing her bone boomerang at a various collection of monsters. But they were not Digimon, they were not computer programs for his enjoyment. They were real, and so was she. They resembled monsters from fairy tail books and old legends.
He knew she was real.
He knew this because he had seen her get hit, he had seen her blood seep from the wounds. But she always prevailed, nothing less. And no matter what wounds she had gathered, she always came back the next night, the fire cat in tow.
He knew not what she was.
And she knew not what he was.
Her dreams always pulled back to him, even in the midst of the blackened night under a miasmic fog. She couldn't place what he was. So many futuristic things, so many knew monsters, she couldn't even fathom what it all was. The perfect image of evil, grace and power over the others. She imposed him as the dark prince of her dreams, a match of opposition to her own status.
She would only know him.
He was her prince, she must have created him from fantasies of the future and nightmares of what she fought. No mage, no priest could know him, for he was hers and hers only. He was her secret, her true weakness. Her dreams were often minuet in the changes, but it was satisfactory to know that he could be real. He must be real.
She would find him, for he was real.
He rode atop a great snake with wings, wielding a dark whip and tossing black loops of control at monsters that she could no believe existed. His spiky hair was wild and blue, same as his jumpsuit. His cape was a deep violet, same as his glasses, which hide his eyes. Gold trimmed the cape and glasses, and silver cuffs held more rings. His black gloves looked almost like velvet. But his eyes, she just wished his eyes would appear.
She couldn't tell a soul.
He always rode into battle with troops of many, fighting against 5 strange looking children with transforming monsters of their own. No matter his efforts, they always seemed to defeat the dark lord. His small worm received most of the pain, in which she felt grief.
She knew he was real.
She knew because she had seen him ponder his plans, she'd seen his anger. She could tell nothing more because of those thick lenses. She had seen the worm cry, seen the harsh conditions of his living space. She has seen him everywhere. He was cut once, she saw him bleed, seen his defeats. Yet he always came back with his pillars of blackness.
They knew not what each other was, but they knew each other none the less.
This time it was different. They met together in a simultaneous dream, the forest thick with dark leaves. She came without her fierce demon cat, he came without his whip and worm. Their shielded and shadowed eye's met, yet neither could see the eyes of the other. They reached forward, and touched their fingers together. Both felt the opposing hand press back. She reached up and dropped her mask, lifting her head to uncover her eyes. He slipped off his glasses.
They stared for ages into the depths of the other, not sure what to think. She moved forward to his taller form, leaning against the dark prince. He embraced her with his dark gloves, his cape fluttering around them. She looked up at him, staring into the dark pools of eternity. He looked back down at her.
She saw tears.
He saw grief.
Their lips touched for a simple moment, a flash of understanding, and they faded away, the dream ending in a cold and suspenseful way.
He opened his eyes to the dark interior of his base, and the many monitors. His glasses were gone, and a grey mask lay on his lap.
She opened her eyes to the sun peeking over the horizon, to her world of demons. Her mask was gone, and in it's place was a pair of violet glasses.
Two people, one dream.
The same pain of loss.