A short story I wrote involving my Sylesti-self and Esme, who is used with permission from the player who RP's her. For those who don't know, the poem used in this story is an old Robert Frost poem. :P





Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what Ive tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice.


Who did she think she was? Stupid woman. After all they'd been through, too. Black gritted his teeth, sweat dripping off his brow and whisked away by the wind. Powerful wings pushed him forward, towards the north. He couldn't wait to get away. Away from this dreaded heat. Away from the stupid volcano. Away from the dry, ashy air, and furthermore away from HER.

Black didn't care when the sun was setting. He didn't care when it rose again. He didn't feel the burning heat on his skin or the ache in his joints as he flew onward, determined to put everything behind him. He'd get back up north. To the cold, to the ice, to the beautiful snowy land that was winter more often than not. He'd find the graveyard he once called home, he'd bury himself in that frozen tomb and only come out when he absolutely had to. That was the way it had been before, and so it would be again. He'd go back to being happy.

"When were you ever happy?!" He didn't realize he'd screamed until his own voice startled him, and Black angled his flight, forcing himself downward for the first time in days. He struck the ground hard, small insects jumping and buzzing away from the sudden disturbance. How many days had he flown without thought of food or water? He didn't eat much anyway, but still... He felt only now the toll his rage had taken on his body, the tall man collapsing into the tall grass. Where was he? A field somewhere. He didn't care where. It wasn't too hot here. Wasn't cold, either, but that could be fixed easily enough.

First, as always, his fingertips began to chill, tiny crystals of frost spreading and crackling across his skin. Ice, ice... beautiful, wonderful ice. So much better than the fire that Esme could summon. Stupid, fiery woman. Black wiped more sweat from his face, refusing to admit that the wet was coming from his eyes. The droplets froze to the back of his hand as he let himself be taken into the frozen 'cocoon', as Esme had called it, that he slept in. Ah yes, that was nice...

Black didn't know how long he had slept. Hours? Days? Weeks? He doubted the latter very much. Still, it was pitch dark when he woke, feeling the ice layers he had formed about his body begin to crack and splinter. He burst forth from it, shattering the ice and sending it in every direction. "Hah!" He called out - he hadn't gotten to do that in a long time. Not since... His smile immediately faded and he shook thoughts of the past from his head.

It was only after a long moment or so that he realized his eyes had not adjusted to the dark. He could not see the stars, or even the outline of the moon through clouds. No insects buzzed, no wind stirred. A few steps forward would inform him that no grass was beneath his feet. Where... where was he?

"Some will say the world will end in fire... some say in ice..."

Black stopped, a chill running up his spine. Not a common feeling for someone who's body temperature ranged in the low to mid thirties. ^{(Around zero for those using celcius :3)} "...I know those words," he whispered out loud to himself, looking around almost frantically in the dark.

"From what I've tasted of desire... I hold with those who favor fire...." Black knew these words. He'd heard them before. Before he could remember, before he knew anything else in this world, he knew those words. He'd heard them, he'd spoken them. They had haunted him and soothed him.

"Who's there?!" He snarled loudly, flaring his wings up in a threatening display, though in the pitch dark of his surroundings he wasn't sure it would be seen or even noticed.

"But if it had to perish twice... I think I know enough of hate-"

"To say that for destruction, ICE is also great and would suffice!" Black cut the voice off and finished the little sing-song. "Yea I know the rhyme, but I don't know YOU. Show yourself!" The only response was a cackle in the dark.

"You have something of mine, ice-bearer. I left something behind, last we met..."

"YOU!" Suddenly, he knew. A figure of black flames, piercing eyes and a demon laugh, the man in shadow that he had come against so long ago. "You know who I am, don't you!" Even as he spoke he was pulling from his back a broadsword, which came to life with fiery glow as it was unsheathed from its leather casing.

"You know where I came from! You left this damned sword behind! WHO are you! TELL ME!"
Black's demands went unanswered as silence again took over, leaving him standing there with the weapon outstretched, and wings flared.

"You had so much promise... you could have had anything." Black blinked, confused. Apparently, his expression was noted in the darkness, though he was unsure how. "You look confused, Ice-bearer. Do you remember nothing? Nothing of home? You were supposed to reign here, my puppet. After the firelings failed.... after the beasts of flame and destruction gave way to... peace. So long ago they turned to simple lives, to living amongst the humans like common rabble! But then... then there was YOU! You were so obediant. So perfect. So willing to destroy. What changed, my little beast?"

Black was shaking now, a mixture of rage and confusion. He didn't know what was going on, or what he was hearing. "Liar!" He screamed. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"...Of course not...." the voice sounded so disappointed. "...You were softening. You turned on me... I took those memories from you, memories that would hinder your goal. Our goals. But what's happened to you since then? My little demon. My monster. It would seem something melted that heart of ice. You were so cold... so cold..."

"I'm still cold!" The tall man hissed through grated teeth. "You're not making any sense! Who are you!" He slashed his weapon into the darkness, thrashing it about uncontrollably.

"Cold? You've given up the cold! You've let the fire in! They don't mix, my son. Who melted that heart of ice?! WHO softened you?! You like playing with fire? Then feel fire!"

And so he did. From within his body it began to pulsate; a soft stinging at first that quickly grew, a heat that began to burn and char his insides. It was pain like he had never imagined, a man of cold being burned alive from the inside out. Black writhed in pain, dropping the sword to the ground and tearing at his clothing with his nails. He ripped at his shirt and jacket until he tore them off of his pale body, revealing age old scars that contrasted against the pale skin of his chest. He clawed at his skin, gouging flesh until streaks of red appeared - a frantic, desperate attempt at ridding himself of this burning sensation from within.

Everything was hopeless, he was going to die here, alone in the dark, with this devilish voice cackling all the while. Black slumped to the ground, gasping, exhaling smoke from within his smoldering body.

"...I'd prefer fire both times." What? He'd heard that before... But... no, how could it be? From the darkness, small orbs glowed and bobbed, coming closer. More fire. Great. But a new feeling had taken hold. Warm, gentle hands had slid along his jaw, forcing him to look up from the ground. He blinked hard, not knowing what he was seeing.

From the pitch around him had emerged a figure. Tan skin, ebon hair. Horns like his, though smaller, and eyes like rubies. "Esme..." he gasped. No, it couldn't be real. How did she find him here? Where was here? For having cursed her out for days, Black couldn't have been happier to see anyone else.

The woman before him stepped in closer, a hand sliding up to one of the thick horns atop his head. She craned his neck back, forcing her lips against his. Black could feel the flame, the raging inferno within him... it rose up painfully into his throat and out. He knew exactly what she was doing... extracting the fire...

"....Witch," he muttered at her weakly. How dare she show up now, when he looked so weak and pitiful.

"Idiot," she smiled at him softly, pulling him against her. "Don't you know not to play with fire...?" Again and again she drew her breath, until the raging heat was gone, leaving him with only the bitter cold of his own element.

"But how..." Black blinked up at her. "There's something here... we have to leave."

"Then stand up," she told him. "Come on, Ice Prince. Show me what you're made of."

He had to laugh, hearing his old nickname. "Let's find out, Hot Shot," he chuckled, returning the favor. Physically, he was still worse for wear, but with Esme here, he felt that not all was lost. Didn't he hate her just hours before? Maybe he just missed her.

"Stupid woman."

"Idiot man."

And as the darkness descended, neither of them feared. Side by side, they readied themselves for what was to come. Some say the world end will end in fire. Some say in ice. But together, they might just save it.