Chapter Text
Night Raven did not try to get away, standing stock-still even as Cataclysm made his way around the small body of water and stepped right into his personal space.
“Heeyy! Not pulling away this time, huh? Must be growing on you!”
The destroyer reached out, grabbing the raven’s chin and tilting it harshly to the side, examining his face with a clinical gaze, an almost believable gentle smile on his face as he did so.
Night Raven huffed, struggling only slightly but making no real move to pull away. He was getting tired of the other’s antics. The constant chase.This never-ending game of cat and mouse. The exhaustion that came from resisting. Wasn’t this just easier?
Cataclysm hummed, shoving the other’s jaw away and leaning back, slinging his staff over his shoulder as was customary. He dropped down to the mucky ground, crossing legs and stabbing the end of his staff into the soft mud. Before the archer could slink away once more, a scorching hand gripped his wrist firmly, unchallengingly, and tugged him down to the ground likewise.
“Alright Raven, listen here. Clearly, you’re not all that into this world, right?”
The marksman just stared, pulling his knees to his chest defensively, flashing his talons in warning.
“Great. I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t think you remember, but I asked good ‘ol Windy a while back if he wanted to rule the world with me. Remake it anew. Take the grips of power from all those weaklings and install some new leadership.”
Night Raven huffed, steadying himself using his bow and rising slowly to his feet, looking down at the destroyer dismissively.
“You’re still clinging onto that delusion..?”
Cataclysm shot upright, bursting out laughing, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. He stalked closer, circling the raven with an appraising grin on his face.
“Heavens no! I’m honestly ashamed that the old me had such mediocre intentions! No, no, I was thinking more along the lines of complete destruction..”
He murmured, gesturing vaguely to the surrounding wasteland, his eyes crinkling at the corners with barely concealed mirth.
“..You should know that.”
“Get to the damn point.”
Night Raven hissed, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his bow in response to the mocking comment, glaring at the other man. Cataclysm just sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully, a knowing smirk plastered onto his face.
“Trying to rush me? Why? It’s not like you’ve got any duties to attend to, now that your forest is all.. Shrivelled. And ashy. And sodden.”
—
“Trying to rush me? Bah! You’re a drag.”
Fire Spirit laughed, shaking his head in mock sorrow. He trailed closely behind the marksman, peeking over his shoulder every now and again, annoying the other to no end. Eventually, Wind Archer spun around despite himself, poking a finger into the flame’s chest.
“Must you breathe down my neck-? I have duties to attend to!”
The other guardian huffed out a laugh, backing up a few steps and holding his hands up in placation.
“You’re always breathing down my neck! Oh duty this and duty that and it’s just a blur of blah, blah, blah-”
He droned on, mimicking the notion of speaking with his hands, rolling his eyes as was common for such a mood. He straightened, the smug grin returning sharply to his features as he stared down the positively sieving man.
“Ah, don’t look so glum! I’ll help you out! No bush fires, no nothing, promise!”
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the archer’s wrist and started to drag him down the shrouded forest paths, moving at a greater and greater pace as traces of delighted laughter echoed back.
Despite himself, Wind Archer couldn’t help but smile.
—
Night Raven stared blankly at the destroyer before his shoulders slumped, his grip loosening on his bow. He sighed, slinging the bow over his back and crossing his arms, casting his gaze to the sodden ground.
“...Say what you will..”
Cataclysm hummed, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. He took the archer’s wrist once more, dragging him a little closer.
“Burn everything. Burn whatever still remains of this pathetic little land. You don’t care anymore, do you? Why should you keep it around then, hm? Just to bask in your sad little memories..?”
He leaned closer, smouldering eyes boring into those of the void, a toothy smile chipping away at the lines of his face, pupils dilating in pure, sickening joy.
“Wouldn’t it all hurt less if you couldn’t see it? If everything was just ash.. If both of us were just nothing..? Wouldn’t that be great..?”
Cataclysm tugged sharply on Night Raven’s wrist, claws digging painfully into the cold, discoloured skin. He smiled joyously, not in cruelty but in something which may have once resembled hope, familiarity, appreciation.
“Rule the world with me, Raven.. Let’s end it all, why don’t we? There’s no point perpetuating this tormentation. Come with me. Burn it all down. Burn ourselves down..”
Night Raven did not respond immediately, just staring blankly ahead with unseeing eyes. Eventually, he pulled away, his expression holding no traces of anything at all. He pulled his wrist away harshly, shrugging the bow off his shoulder and back into his hand.
“..Is that your proposition..? ..Saddening. Do what you will. I care not.”
Cataclysm blinked, his hands falling to his sides and twitching uselessly, one eyebrow quirked in bewilderment.
“..What..? If you won’t fight me- and won’t join me then- then what-?!”
“Burn the world. Or don’t. Kill me. Or don’t. Kill yourself. Or don’t. I do not care for you, I do not care for the world, I do not care for myself. I will fade as all things do.”
With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered back into the maze of half-destroyed trees, swallowed completely by the drifting ash. The destroyer heard only the groans of a tree trunk protesting from being scaled, and then the muffled beating of wings as the archer abandoned him to his own devices once more.
Cataclysm’s chest heaved, his breath leaving him in angry, bewildered huffs, his hands clenching and unclenching aimlessly at his sides.
Wrong once again. What a cruel twist of fate.
He glared at the spot in the curtains of ash where the archer had disappeared, as if he could part the shroud by pure will alone. Whatever. It didn’t matter. The world would burn either way, with or without his raven beside him.
Still, there was a piece of clockwork in his chest which felt as if it no longer fit quite right, as if it had been displaced ever so slightly by some unforeseen force. The destroyer cursed at himself under his breath: why was he so perturbed by this turn of events..? Why did this rejection not just bounce off as easily as everything else did? Surely this was nothing in comparison to the pure carnage he could inflict from the mere crooking of a finger..
He scoffed, scuffing harshly at the sodden dirt beneath his feet, sending a cloud of settled ash and soot into the thick air. He turned sharply on his heel, beginning to trudge back the way he came around the small, filthy puddle of water, though stopped just as sharply when a familiar blur reflected off the surface of the muck.
Cataclysm clenched his jaw, eyes sliding to the side to peer into the waters. Rightly so, there was indeed a smear of a face staring back at him with something between pity and loathing. An old, familiar face - a personality he had thought long lost to the workings of time. A reflection of the caged bird he once knew as himself.
He grit his teeth, lurching sharply to crouch beside the water, swiping at the surface. Yet still, as the ripples calmed, the face reformed just as quickly, taunting the man endlessly.
“What?! What is it?! What do you want?!”
Still the apparition did not speak or move, staring up at the destroyer as if it did not quite believe what it was seeing. Cataclysm jolted upright sharply, stabbing the end of his staff into the soft ground precipitously, gesticulating wildly at the face as he hissed:
“Don’t you dare act so high and mighty! You who is content to ignore your own bonds and praise them as liberation! Be grateful I conquered the freedom which you could only dream of-!”
His chest rose and fell in surging intervals, the puffs of air leaving him scratching at his throat. Then, a blink, and the face in the water was gone, leaving only the ash drifting aimlessly in the wind and the quiet of the wasteland.
Cataclysm stared at the water a while longer before taking a shaky step back, wrenching his staff free from the soil and turning on his heel, a ringing persisting over the clamour of his own desolate thoughts.
Why should he be scared of such a phantom? It is the eye of a coward which fears the painted specter.
Why should he be scared?
Why should he..?