They were naught but animals, beasts of blood and flesh and bone; creatures of desire and lust, unable to stave away their very carnality. They were a single dark mass beneath dim starlight - was it loneliness that brought them together, or something else entirely? Was it destiny, fate, serendipity - a divine intervention? Were the stars aligned, was there witchery in the water, or was this entire line of thinking a farce? Maybe it wasn't any sort of magic, but simple chance; the brush of skin, the secret meeting of eyes; animal attraction.

But he was against every one of her ideals, an antagonist to her morals. Why did his touch cause her to quiver, why did her gut writhe and twist in her belly?

He shuddered under her gentle caress. The reaper was no god of war, no death machine; he was hair and flesh, tripe and sinew. She did not wither at his barest touch, was not damned as they exchanged warmth. He aspired and dreamed and inhaled and exhaled - he was no stone cold monster, and she was no frigid rain goddess, just a girl with crushed wings, and he a swarthy soldier with sapphire eyes and a red heart. This was what the world came down to: there were no monsters, only lies and tears, joy and laughter. There was pain, too, but there was also unending happiness, and she was glad for that.

Deimos towered over her delicate form, but he did not impose, did not hold her against her will. They were as close as any two living things could be, brittle hearts thrown to the wind; inhibitions rebuffed; worries forgotten, tossed away to the earth to rot and decay. His ivory teeth brushed against the velvet of her ear, and she wondered if he could taste the frantic beating of her heart, feel blood whirling like the Bora beneath the fine lining of her fur. She was at her most vulnerable; she was unguarded, susceptible - everything was borne out before him. He could thieve and consume and ravage her all he wanted, but she knew he wouldn't. Against everything that had been taught to her, she trusted him, this reaper, this destroyer. This was no fable, no fairytale; she was not the beauty, the untouchable princess, and he was no prince, no beast. They were just two mortals with mortal lifespans and mortal hearts, and who was to judge them for mistakes or deviations or desires?

What do you think of? he wondered, watching her with that gaze that suddenly made her knees weak and made her head spin, but it also cleared her mind, brought her back to earth. He knew the answer - she could see it scrawled across his face, softening his marble features. She would humor him by echoing his thoughts - it was only fair. Huyana bit her lip with false contemplation. The roan extended her neck, letting her nose run across his mane, lipping the thick hair. She let the question settle into silence, let the answer bleed through her quiet touch and slow breaths.

"You," she answered quietly, retracting her face to watch him - her eyes dancing between his, flickering from one jewel-bright eye to the other. Her lips drew into a gentle smile, a knowing smile, quiet and expectant.