Lord Cynic: "Two in a day. Yay. I've got another one waiting in the wings, but I want to keep it hidden for now. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Flameshippers, enjoy!"
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Lord Cynic: "I don't own Golden Sun."
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Flames Alight
His confident smile,
Her mischievous smile.
A flame that could travel,
For thousands of miles.
To her, he's an oaf,
Without a hint of common sense.
But she can always count,
On his coming to her defence.
To him, she's a force,
Whom no one could compare.
If dirty looks could kill,
People would drop dead from her unwavering glare.
Their elements are parallel,
With a mutual burning passion.
But their heated disagreements,
Are of a clichéd fashion.
They could incinerate a forest,
With a single click of a finger.
As well as turn a poultry farm,
Into a factory of winger dingers.
Their siblings wouldn't approve,
Of their obscure relationship,
But they dare not object,
Lest the auburn firebomb breaks their hips.
Her tomboyishness and attitude,
He admires of her the most.
Until he makes a mistake,
Getting burned like a piece of toast.
His strength and determination,
She craves like none other.
Especially after the absence,
Of her older, wayward brother.
Their journeys drove them apart,
Across separate sections of the world.
Until their paths crossed again,
The oaf and the tomboyish girl.