Destruction [Xue]

[Vaet Qou]

A betrayal had been welcomed into the fire kingdom. The choice was not a political one, but a personal one. Welcoming a stranger to his home was nothing to leek into the affairs of his position, nor would it make any difference if someone had found it. The arrival of Vaet returning from the wind area, was not a secret. Even the unconscious person he carried with him was not shunned away. Vaet had been smart to use part of his cloak to keep Xue’s face from showing. If the fallen fey had been an enemy of the court, then it was Vaet’s duty to deal with the situation - not the civilians.

The youngest of the servants had been called to for help. They had immediately took Xue away from Vaet, nursing and redressing the strange fey immediately. As if a high guest in the court, the stranger had been placed in one of the inner chambers, away from the rest of the occupied spaces. Vaet had waited in the halls, his eyes staring at the high structures. He had not let emotions touch him that often, besides the obvious ones. However, the depth of his thoughts were irking.

Never in his life time had he seen a fey so similar to him. Not even his father.

Going adrift now, his eyes closed. There couldn’t be a way for his mother to have actually have an affair. For all Vaet knew, his mother had been very close to his father, and they never strayed once. However, the fey in this room had spoke of his birth. Spoke of his wings. Shared everything that was most private to Vaet, out in the open. He was used to being read easily, to warn people of his feelings on the topic, but he never acted upon any emotions.

A hinge opened, and his eyes opened slightly to see the young servants leave in a line. They had bowed their heads respectfully to Vaet as they walked past.

Nodding back, Vaet turned so that he could go into the room. He reached behind him to hold onto the knob of the door, shutting it behind him. Ahead of him was a bed made out of gold, decorated in false leafs. In the corner was a small table, with two chairs. As Vaet passed the table, he reached for one of the chairs and lifted it to bring it to the side of the stranger’s bed. Placing it still, he took a seat and this time took a more private look at the boy.

Like a mirror was there, he could see how they appeared the same. Same facial structures, except this fey’s was more defined, hair longer, neck slightly longer (as if a swan), not to mention the arms appeared smoother, less structured, and yet strong. The warrior took a moment of disbelief and placed a hand to his cheek, holding himself there, breathing calmly. He could not get mad now. Not until he had answers.

In his mirth, he awaited Xue’s awakening.

[Xue Xui]

Dreams.

Xue had learned so early on, the best way to imitate something was to forget what you were before. Pretending became easy when you had no extra baggage, and thus his paper thin excuse to move on. Ignorance, in the most cliché form, was bliss.

This talent of his came with a price, for forgetting yourself meant forgetting everything, including your dreams, your own desires, and what you really wanted before this all began. Xue Xui had never had a dream, not one he could remember, and sleeping was always just running into the blackness, happy, content, and undisturbed.

But dreams and nightmares were the consequences of a problematic mind, of a life full of obstacles, and Xue had never really had to worry about that. When a problem arose, he simply changed, and moved on, leaving everything behind, and shedding another skin.

Perspiration beaded his dark lacquered skin, his face calm, but his eyes rolling slightly beneath his eyelids. A woman’s face painted the darkness now, broken castles, screaming children and even – perhaps, if he dared to believe – an image of fear plaguing him. Volcan Kingdom loomed in his memory, as though his body was realizing the change in temperature as he was taken. He was not used to this heat, and in his sleep, he breathed deeply until finally the heat – both mentally and physically – was too much.

As though he hadn’t been asleep at all, but perhaps pretending, he opened his eyes with ease and peered into nothingness with no focus. Like staring at the sun, or a bright flame, the images of his dreams burned in his retinas, still there, looming in the atmosphere of his gilded prison. It took a moment before his eyes dilated and reality finally sank in, the images finally fading away.

He felt the closeness of the other pressing upon him without even turning his head, like a leech upon his existence, he felt suddenly claustrophobic, but fought any feelings to react. With a discipline that could only be suggestive of a Fire Kingdom upbringing, he turned his head upon the ornate pillow and peered around the room, his face dressed in nothing but a meager disguise of mild curiosity until finally, his dark eyes rested upon Vaet. Hate flared within him, but nothing gave way.

“I have never in such pleasant of accommodations, perhaps I should consider becoming a prisoner to their prince more often, hm?” His voice was hoarse, lips cracking with many days without water, and still, his mouth managed to have an air of a slight smile upon them.

It had been many.. long years.. since he stared upon that face.

[Vaet Qou]

It was as if he, too, saw the spec of light. There were no darkness in Vaet’s vision, accustomed to the fiery kingdom. Despite shadows consuming the stranger’s face, a distant lick of the candles beside the bed, he had wanted to reach out and pluck the stranger’s eyeballs. For all the logical thinking and patience, he still held onto superstition within their traditions -- and if he could take the eyes from an enemy, then he would be open to another world. However, Vaet knew that it was more like a proverb, not a literal method of acting.

The stranger within the bed had a face as smooth as a feather, eyes as dark as a beetle, and it had compelled the fire warrior to take caution. It was as if Vaet’s most irrational fear had crawled into his home, made a web and was starting to tangle threads of poison. With no one watching, he had the opportunity to exterminate the male. There was an inkling preventing him from acting hostile, and that was because he felt a kin to Xue.

At the pin drop of the stranger’s voice, Vaet lifted his head from the palm of his hand. He had reflected the curious look upon Xue’s face, but decided it was best to stir the silence for longer. They had met in neutral grounds, and he had seen many images of people he had loved the most. To assume anything at this point would be a great downfall, for who was to say that Xue’s appearance now, wasn’t something manufactured from his own image?

Vaet’s lips parted momentarily, as if he was going to comment on the stranger’s jest. Nothing came to, but his eyes folded down word and he stood up from the chair. Next to the bed was a night-stand, it had been adorned in gold, much like the color of their Kingdom. The only thing different was a gourd. It too, had been made from gold, but there was a blue light softly illuminating the exterior. It had been possessed with ice weaving.

As if dismissing the stranger all together, Vaet picked up the gourd and poured the contents inside in a glass much similar to the enchanted pitcher. For now, the warrior pretended the male was a guest in his home. He held the glass full of chilled water out to Xue, his gaze intent, mouth set into a sad attempt at a polite smile.

[Xue Xui]

Xue stirred little as the brother walked across the room, simply watching his step, all ready having memorized it from the battle beforehand – the strange mixture of humbleness and pride all in one. He was a warrior, though he didn’t shout it out like so many nobles Xue had seen before. This kind of honesty, Xue might have respected in another life. For now, Xue was simply trying to scrap answers, watching the liquid being poured.

Xue was quite aware of the idea of there being only one him at a time, despite the many images he could be, he could not always be Xue. He could be his own younger brother, or his mother, or a dead light fey. He could be the woman that haunted his dreams, or the child born from her. What he was was no longer a fey, or human, or anything really. He was the water that opposed the fire, taking on anything that reflected in its surface, that always found a path to escape, a still water with an undercurrent.

Xue kept the emotion on his face, the atmosphere of a grin just beneath the surface. He didn’t even know where he picked it up, if the gesture was even his to begin with. This idea had never really occurred to him before, the idea that he was not anybody but himself. Feeling more out of place in his own body than out. He peered at the other fey, this brother that he knew was his, but the name still unknown to him. Xue’s dark eyes met with the brightness of cinders, the gaze for a few brief seconds – trying to consume the fire; as though he might, instead, find something of himself in those eyes that simply peered back.

The hardness of the gaze was easily broken by the glass that was held out to him, his concentration fragile. He peered at the contents of the crystal for a moment, as though seriously contemplating the offer, the silence that was being fed to him. There was a genuine heart beat of silence that snowed upon them, quiet and undisturbed, they both sat there mechanically.

And then Xue Xui the warrior, the dark weaver, the fire fey did something honest for once. As though he had not been injured only hours before, he thrust a hand into the thick muscles of Vaet’s neck. Slender fingers with dirt crusted nails dug into the meat of the smooth neck, the dark weaver’s eyes just as quickly returning to its source, face hard now, lips soft and emotionless, unlike the steadfast vice.

He was not running away, he was not changing and manipulating. This was simply a gesture, though what he was proving he wasn’t sure, whether he wanted to kill him, or if he even could, the intent was there.

And this time, it was Xue that had a loss of words, simply staring at the mirror of himself. It was an open thing, easily to be diverted and the dark weaver knew this, knew it could be thwarted and still he kept on squeezing...

[Vaet Qou]

The pulsating anger could be felt, by why such a hatred? After all, the new era didn’t bring any more peace, but cause a rift through fey based upon elemental heritage. Xue was obviously born from a fire fey, but the hatred beneath the veil was uncharted territory. Vaet had not been so trustful to drop all of his defenses to the stranger, but he had extended a hand, only to have it thwarted away. Before the stranger had even made his move, Vaet had bore his attention into the other male, awaiting whatever may come.

Which is why the dirtied fingers of Xue did not breech too much of his flesh, but rather scratched at it to peel away the first layer of flesh. Immediately, Vaet dropped the glass of water -- a loud shatter echoing through the quiet halls from out side -- and he knew, that he had trusted his own ability. He knew there was no one able to save him outside; just as he knew the prisoner was in no shape for another battle. With both hands free and glass glistening against the flames, shattered and broken -- as was Vaet’s patience -- he had reached over hastily.

His right hand went for the other male’s longer hair, pulling the male’s head back to expose Xue’s neck to the ceiling. The free-hand, his left, lifted to rested upon Xue’s digging fingers. Vaet clenched his jaw now, using his strength (the strength he knew he had more of) to intertwine his fingers with Xue’s, wrenching the prying fingers from his neck. Air caught at the wound, and he felt a burn unlike flames. He had wondered if the stranger had truly been venomous, but if there was poison, at least he would have the opportunity to fight back.

With distance between the two males, Vaet threw his weight upon Xue. He had, in a way, started to straddle the male, to hold him downward. As if to calm a tantrum of a child, Vaet attempted to pin Xue’s arms above his head, his right knee adjusting to press into the soft spot of the other male’s stomach. He knew the other boy’s powers came with a touch or a grasp, but it didn’t matter -- it didn’t matter if his identity was stolen, but was worse was the affect of being nullified for no fire weaving.

Vaet could feel this emptiness in power, but he had been grateful to know that he had better health. That raw strength would be able to keep the prisoner at bay. At last, Vaet spoke up, loud so that Xue would be able to hear his words in the concrete room. “Whether you are a true foe of mine, or harbor personal hatred -- are you really that senseless?”

He did not need to speak further beyond that. Vaet had defeated the person below him before, and if he had to, it would be a quick and easy death. Refusing to wait for the next answer, he prodded again, his crimson eyes washing furiously over Xue’s face. “Are you sure you want to die tonight?”

[Xue Xui]

The pressure was there, never letting up, even being pulled back, his neck exposed to the ceilings, he held fast. Finally emotion escaped him, pure, unfiltered, unrehearsed – Xue’s nose flared and a hiss escaped his lips as knee met his gut. His hand, pinned beneath the other’s grip, fortified by weight and strength, was still held in a claw, never ceasing its intent. It was Xue’s expression that gave way now, his face in a sneer, dark eyes following the fire that set upon him, the burning with the blackness, he breathed heavily, gaining his lost breath.

The heat, if only for a moment, went down. The room’s cement temperature dropped a few degrees with the destruction of the fire warrior’s power, if even for a moment, the air seemed so much clearer. The emotions flowed easier, swirling, ceasing the cold war between them.

This brother of his, this being above him, grew up strong, so strong – as he should have. Their father raised him, and Xue, in his birth had helped him come to be. Why had he wanted to protect him so long ago? He should have just killed the woman, this boy’s mother, this centre of his hatred, but no—

He didn’t.

It was easy to want to destroy that which he did not understand, the thought repeated again, like a voice from beyond. Jacinth still lived within him, giving reason to the schism of Xue’s thoughts. While murder saturated him, reason kept bugging him, reminding him. This is the brother you wanted to live.

He tilted his head slightly, glare faltering every bit of his features, though his voice – in the face of the loudness of Vaet’s was still just as level, with bitterness dripping from every syllable. “Don’t mind my admonishment, prince, but if you didn’t want a fight, perhaps you should have thought through the idea of letting your face stealer live,” he breathed.

His claw like hand finally curled into itself, his rigidness still there, but he did not fight. His eyes like livewire, he went on, trying to think of a way to make his legs useful as he spoke—

“I did not live a thousand lives just to be brought to the Volcan Kingdom,” a growled escaped his usually composed features, “I know you are feeling it, the nothingness all you fey feel – let it consume you, and then maybe you can feed me to the death fey. If not, then maybe I should have let you die to your mother, fire prince. " The words permeated him, Xue finding no openings, no ways to free himself, no more eloquence. A snarl held his face, one inherited from their father, animalistic.

He refused, oh how he refused. He was not going to remember anything.

Oh Jacinth, what a foolish thing to bring them here.