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Mavuika could be the queen of brawns, but she believed her strength lay in braveness and sincerity. A flame so pure, it’d burn everything else. Or she supposed it was that way. Mavuika never crazed anything, and awareness had dawned upon her. Gated inside Celestia's rules and principles ,she couldn’t do much. However, in her many years of living, she couldn’t have known that so much would change. The air had gotten dry, the ground was shaking, the sky was thunderous, the plants would bloom and wither, the tides would change and ice melt. Only her fire remained ever so stagnantly burning the same old stick.
So she came forward with a dare. A dare that’d hopefully burn many at stake, and shake Celestia awake.
One day, she’d wash away, and her powers would transcend to another body, a future archon, without much to look back to. So, she opened a wide arena and invited her people to feast and celebrate. Her deal was simple.
“Win and you get everything. In defeat, you’ll lose it all.”
And such did the volcano explode. From birth to death, a human was supposed to defy its very nature. One person was fighting to keep his sandals, not daring to walk in the harsh ground. The other would either keep their caviar rather than eating grass and meat. Someone else valued life more than death.
Mavuika valued the victor. A blonde champion accompanied by its pixie, that would value the reward she was to give. Not a fight, not a showcase of strength, but a showcase of knowledge and truth, to show, but not to tell. Such an act that would be fit to the dendro archon, now that torch was carried to the mistress of fire herself.
“Now go, run to Snezhnaya.”
“What about the Harbinger?” The fairy whined.
“I’ll handle him alone. You still have a long way to go.” She greeted them from the fiery roads, to the snowy paths.
It was when a certain, tall figure had approached her. A statue on his own, that of a gloomy shadow atop of the radiance that was the pyro archon.
“Are you finally here to fight?” She said, her voice taut and crisp.
The captain did not respond. She couldn’t tell what expression his eyes were, whether he was smiling or frowning. It didn’t matter, his face would be shown soon.
“Tell me, o nigh and glorious captain, are you ready to swing your sword at a god?” She raised her tone.
“You made that boy compete instead, but it looked like your plans to infiltrate weren’t so successful.”
“I have you in my grasp, o archon of flames.” No matter how many taunts Mavuika would make, his low vibrating voice was enough for her to tremble in surprise. “That is enough, for me.”
There was a guarantee to one’s fight. She was sure she’d win, or at least, back him off. But such sudden security to his voice, made her feel something. The scorching hot adrenaline was too much to ignore.
Through the infinite dodging, minimal injury was dealt on each other. However, his speed and resilience was catching up to her.
“The formidable human spirit, huh?”
He didn’t say anything, as Mavuika herself jumped. She wanted to take him out as fast as possible. However the goal would scale from that, to the wonder if she’d survive this without a scratch. To her spirit there was horror. But something even more, awakening. Entertainment, purpose. Her life between winning and losing it all, this senseless gambling. Mavuika was more or less caressing his hair as she swung her fiery sword in hopes to cut his head, touch his chest in hopes to pierce his heart, and get on the same level to his legs, so she could cling for mercy. That was Mavuikas fate, defeat.
At the mercy of a Harbinger, she didn’t have much to hope for.
His fingers crazed her collarbone. His body, after the fiery battle it had to endure, was now retracting from going lower to her chest.
“Do it, darling.” She called him sweetly, as a partner for life rather than her last foe. “I lost.” She kept saying in defeat. He despised those words more than he had ever had.
The spark in his soul, which turned to a wildfire, bred and fed by Mavuika herself, had diminished with her loss. That was the pyro archon. The god of passion and war. The fire that’d melt the ice, would be frozen, and her gnosis must be taken.
“Whoever wins…takes all.” She whispered, as her fingers rolled around his strands of hair, grabbing him closer to her radiant eyes, and smoking breath.
Of the air that had the scent of a family gathering, of a desperate cigarette, of hypnotising candles made of cinnamon. And eyes that’d scorch him and his mind, if they didn’t put their lips so close to each other. A deity of fire and a soldier of feigned love. Under her gaze, he was stripped bare of his dignity.His eyes ever so slightly observed the spectacular embroideries on her brightened bronze skin, and his fingers accidentally pressed on her blood red lips.
Tsaritsa had no love left for anyone. But they just had a few more kisses to spare, some more breaths to spare and lots of words not to waste. Capitanos' lips would burn. His tongue intertwined with hers, would scorn, as if he had drank lava. However, the heat was becoming as warm as a glass of alcohol after a long, frigid day, as those droplets had gotten into his heart. Hatred, anger, longing, all these feelings had got beyond that iron hard helmet.
His hands wandered aimlessly on her shoulders, tightening and losing her hold.That until Mauvika had cut the contact, along with his confusion, positioned his coarse fingers on her chest, and let it pierce right through her skin. A groan left her lips and a grunt was left from his after finally getting his hands on the pulsing chess piece. The aftermath left a shiver on Mavuikas body, as he held her, until he gently let go.
Mavuikas flame flowing through her hair had been diminished, she had fainted , but very much so alive.
As he left, he held that piece closer to his heart. It’d be the last he sees of her, and the last he’d feel of her.