Together they stand panting in the ocean water, and it cools her legs pleasantly as her body temperature slowly drops back to normal. It was exhilarating, battle. Already she was addicted to the pain of it, the pride that came with a blow well-placed, the taste of victory nearing. Tingal was nearly triple her size and still she had not faltered, refused to in fact. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, she mused to herself in profound amusement. The sand is soft and malleable beneath her hooves, swaying to the waves that crash and lap at her sides with the return of the moon's influence on the tides. It has her hide dripping in an unattractively smeared canvas, dew droplets like little diamonds in her windswept locks, casting silver rainbows over her ivory tiara and blushing coat. Tingal stands opposite her, the moon playing on the crimson stains in the water that flows from both of their wounds, glinting off the white of his thick coat and illuminating hazel eyes that seem to never leave her.

Tingal was her first friend, and he had remained by her side ever since. Sometimes she felt she tainted him, that she ruined him daily by not chasing him from her hip. He was innocent, loving and patient. She was cruel, hardened and broken. Even his careful hands couldn't piece her back together to form the crystal she used to be. She hurt him. She knew that. But he stayed by her nonetheless, and after he had fallen into slumber at her side she would stay awake and stare at his peaceful caricature and wonder why she didn't just...disappear into the night. She loved him, in the strange broken way she loved in, but she hurt him with every ounce of it. His tears came from laughing, hers from anger and sorrow. His laughter was bright and golden in the face of amusing actions, while hers was wistful and half-hearted and bitter. She was never alone when she had him, and yet she felt as if she was only leading him unwitting and gallant into the dark clutches of hell and heartbreak.

If she was Beauty, then she housed the Beast, and he the opposite.

How could he stand to stay with her?

He would crawl a thousand miles on his knees over broken class and hot coals for her, and it made her chest ache with guilt and self-hatred. Why? Why did he sacrifice so much for her, when she had given so little in return? What had drawn him to her side in the first place, and what had kept him there? She was a curse, a black plague upon everyone she loved, and she didn't want to see someone so pure rot away because of her.

Was it some need to save the damsel in distress? Did he desire only to 'fix' her? Did he even see beneath her flesh to the shattered, wary being inside? Or was she just an illusion to him?

"You were great."

Hotaru mentally shook the thoughts that clung to her like little gremlins, determined to pull her down to her knees and make her submit. Her own gaze hasn't wandered far from Tingal, though she has been in a daze that far outweighs his own. "As were you," she said softly in reply, letting the crisp wind carry her lyrics across the moonstreaked water to his ears.

Again the two fall into silence, though it is comfortable, almost contemplative. Tingal turns to look at the moon, and Hotaru does the same, feeling her body relax and a slight smile curl her pale lips as she viewed it. Her Goddess must be the strongest to have returned first, and nobody would ever be able to tell her different. Hotaru had sworn herself to Luna's ways long ago, and she would never stray from the path she walked so religiously. Her musings were cut abruptly short by a blurted question from her companion, and her head whirled to look at him so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash.

What?!

She stumbles over half-formed words, trying to figure out what to say. How could she convey all the thoughts that had just gone through her head? I want to keep you safe from myself? As if, he'd just say she was worth it or something and she'd crumble from past lack of affection. But she had to answer him, couldn't leave him hanging on a thread while her shaking hands held a needle and thread in one and scissors in the other.

"T-Tingal I..." She's in such a daze she can hardly do more than just...stare at him. Her tongue is like lead. How was she supposed to reply? She was still so young, she hated to admit it but she barely knew what she was doing, and life had been so hard on her she'd never had the chance to go chasing princes like her twin.

"I...I don't even know what love is supposed to feel like, I've met so few people and..." She was starting to panic, throat constricting. She didn't want to hurt him, but didn't want to lead him on or have him stuck at her side forever. He didn't deserve that. Why did he think she was so amazing when she wasn't? "Tingal I-I don't know if I'm even capable," she confessed weakly, her own self-loathing apparent in her heterochromic eyes, in the warble of her voice and bitter defeat in her lyrics. "I'm not someone you want to be stuck with, even if I did know how to discern love from platonic affection..." It broke her blackened heart to do this to him, but she couldn't kill the pureness of his soul. She'd already done enough damage.

i am the designer of my own catastrophy;
an unbelievably orchestrated...
and beautifully choreographed...
illusion

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