There in that laugh she found winter, frigid and relentless.

It doused the flames that had sprung up in her chest, tamped down the raging inferno that had consumed her vengeful heart. As the smoke coiled up and cradled her lungs, the dove noted the way that his eyes flashed; the silver-crowned child of sunlight was not truly crazed, for there in those honeyed pools did she find a cool calculation. Lips curving into a smirk, the fires of her fury finally fizzled out into nothingness; she would pin another beneath the weight of her vehemence.

It seemed that this smudged illusion of beauty that lay before her wanted a gamble.

The ivory medusa paid no mind to the huffing buck that rose before her, no doubt an answer to the ferocity that emanated from her very bones. No, her coral eyes were pinned to the injured stallion that lay before her, that icy laugh still spilling from curved lips. As the tinkling sound trailed to a stop, the Pegasus couldn't help but wonder at the power of such a laugh; if she were to stand there, unmoving in the path of that frigid chorus of sound, would the frost that so readily coated his voice layer over her? Would she come away from this meeting between strangers dipped in a crystalline gown?

There was no time to muse as the golden stallion struggled to his hooves, the pain that laced his features teasing and tempting the blushed woman to strike. Her temptations, however, gave way to inquisitiveness as the brightly shining stranger straightened to a height that matched her own. If it was at all possible, the woman would be in awe of the defiance in which the man stood. Indeed, he was a cracked and crumbled statue hewn of golden stone, sparkling in a way that rivaled even the sun.

It made her guess at his wounds and their source; were they from a god, jealous of the allure held by a mere mortal, or something far more sinister? Had he inflicted these wounds upon himself, a sort of punishment for the way he glowed so enchantingly, the way he flung his cruel beauty into the face of all things lesser?

But the day's mysteries would remain as such, for the crowned King of Nothing was speaking to her now.

What are you?

Her reply came quickly, a whiplash of words that fell flat upon the dewy grasses without fanfare or ceremony, "A husk, the offer of oblivion, a meaningless member of something striving to be anything." Pastel eyes were flat, yet they refused to waver or blink as she held the golden boy's gaze, as she stepped closer to breathe in his scent and steal the oxygen that hovered so near to his lips. There was a certain dominance that clung to her even in decided neutrality, a sort of animosity that seeped from her soul and into the atmosphere.

Not that she minded. She would not apologize for the blackness that covered her, for it only made her shine brighter in contrast.

It was that subconscious push for dominance that lead her lips to curl, her shoulders to straighten, her eyes to flash with a sort of tantalizing glee. Oh, the golden son wanted to gamble, and she would be more than glad to oblige.


"Kind of you to include me in your misery, little Sun Drop. Care to give me another taste of the wicked creature that dwells in your heart?"