The Academy: finally, finally it's time ; kale

She had never been as strong as he been. She had come here broken, confused, and lost. He had been her guidance, the star in the desert, the water when she was thristy. She had never wanted to let him go. He would be her beginning, and he would be her end. But she knew that she never wanted it to end. She could be separate from him, lost in the Beginning and Hum of Things, but he would be there, like water, trickling down and burying into her soul. And now, with the power of the Relic (and she tries not to think about his Shard within him) burning within her –or perhaps, humming- she can feel him more than ever. He is there. Here. He moves with the water, and in its reflection she sees him. Had she known it was always there? Or had she been blind?

She moved away from him, because she wanted to forget him. Her curiosity burns ever brighter around him. Her tears form without her wanting them too, and her body aches to be pressed against his. But she does not want to break him, and does not want to be broken by him. She knows what he’s saying by being here, and she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want to make it true. This is Hypatia, Oracle, Queen, Fire, and Water: her emotions cannot be escaping her, her tongue cannot run away from her. He makes her mind wander; wander through the places that he has been (she has heard of them now, and wants to know more), of the loves he shared, of his past. But he is cold beside her, and her Fire shivers, demands heat against him.

Oh, how she wants to be broken if it were to heal him.

Darkness. It is within him, underneath his chest. She is driven for its destruction, once as she was driven by its madness. She had known that the Shards were coming before they arrived; somehow, her Fire had wanted it, begged it, until she saw what it did. Until she saw the harm, the pain, the power that could be hers. And she was too frightened. There will never be Darkness for her, because she is the Light. Her lips follow his, but as he touches the pond and disturbs the peace, her lips touch it and calm it again. The Water is still under her lips, but there is a flame at the bottom there, she holds it underneath the current for a moment. “I don’t think I ever will.”

She lifts her head quietly, and somewhere, she hears the soft cry of a lion. Weeping perhaps, for the mixture of emotions he doesn’t understand. “You didn’t.” She says it with her eyes downcast, her body slumped, her mane dripping fire. “I did for you.”

She deserved it. And she hates herself now around him –still! – because he makes her want to go deeper into his soul, deeper than she should. Even the Water cannot quench her thirst over him. She fights within herself (and she wonders if she could over take him now), and the fire in her eyes dims and glows. “I’m the only one that needs you.” Not wants him, not loves him (though she wonders, vaguely, if she does), but needs him. Perhaps he is peace, perhaps he is calm, and he is the only one that can bring that to her. Even through brokenness and sorrow.

And hesitantly, she places her lips next to his.