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Let me take your hands, I’m shaking like milk.
The snake extended his hand, a shadow of a grin playing on his face. His body was relaxed, almost inviting, but his eyes were alert, taking in his prey’s every move.
The crow took it reluctantly, eyes filled with disgust and longing. A turmoil of emotions played out on his brow in succession, while his captor looked on, intrigued.
Their fingers intertwined, milky pale and waxen grey latching onto each other, impossible to say if out of loathing or desperation.
Turning, turning blue all over the windows and the floors.
The theater was immersed in shadows. For all they knew of this world, it was nighttime. The moon’s cold light cast a ghostly glow on the interior’s walls. There was nothing else besides patches of light and shadow and the crow’s silvery skin and the snake’s glinting eyes.
With a sinuous bow and a slanted smile, the snake drew the crow towards himself swiftly, sending him on the very edge of his balance, testing his limits. With a sharp exhale, the crow regained his footing, glaring at the snake, frightened yet defiant. He paused for an instant, caught his breath, and responded, twisting his body in a new direction, trying to elude the snake’s next erratic pull. Over and over, this dance continued, the snake drawing him closer, unpredictably, unsteadily, the crow ever passive, never taking the lead yet never fully yielding.
There was no music the two could dance to. The silence in the theater hung heavy. They moved in sync to the sounds of their mingling breaths and the faint rustle of fabric, footsteps reverberating through the empty halls, each twist and jolt bringing them dangerously close to a state of unbalance, but somehow continuing effortlessly in their dance, their minds as one.
Fires outside in the sky look as perfect as cats.
The two carried on their endless, timeless waltz. Step. Jerk. Settle. Step once more. The snake’s fluid lead, the crow’s cautious follow, an eternal succession.
Again and again, repeating through time, sometimes slipping further apart but never too close.
What had drawn the two out of bed? What had disturbed their rest?
Perhaps the snake had been drawn out by his regular curiosity, or by a mysterious craving within him.
Perhaps the bird had felt an odd twinge of fear, as if he was being hunted, and had chosen to take a walk to calm down.
Or maybe… They were simply, against their will, mechanically, magnetically fated to reunite and continue their dance, time and time again.
With a sharp pull, the snake artfully twisted his prey’s body to fall backwards on his other arm. He took a moment to admire his features. His bangs pushed back by gravity, revealing smoky eyes filled with panic, the distinct cut of his nose, the sharp edges of his face…
He pulled him back up. The crow gave a shaky gasp of relief, glancing downwards, almost looking smaller than the snake, despite being far taller. The snake’s smile widened. He was in control yet again.
The two of us together again, it’s just the same, a stupid game…
Sharp grey eyes met inscrutable brown. The pair stepped apart and back together, hands still intertwined, preparing for the next inevitable push and pull.
Mere inches separated them, the crow looking down from his perch, just out of reach for the snake twisting on the floor.
The closest they’d ever been since centuries ago.
The snake recalled the frustration, mingled with surprise and exhilaration, he’d felt the first time his prey had acted against his calculations. The crow had escaped from his clutches. He’d spread his wings and broken free.
Countless years ago, when the snake had been controlling him, in an impetus of courage, the crow had opened his wings just enough for the snake to loosen his hold. In that instant of respite, the crow had launched in the air, a maelstrom of feathers and fortitude, and, with the snake’s limp form in his talons, he’d plummeted to the ground, the impact dashing his head into black fibers and crimson gore.
Malice can’t be destroyed. The crow had known this. And yet…
That timid crow, so indecisive… The snake had seen his mind, riddled with torrents of ceaseless doubt. Nonetheless, for a second, he had summoned a single bit of bravery from within.
No, the snake wasn’t happy about that. But he had to admit, he almost felt admiration, reverence for this act, even after coming out of it weakened and delayed in his plans.
The crow recalled the feeling, the snake’s spires intertwined around his helpless form, suffocating him slowly.
His breath leaving his body. His frenzied mind loosening. The lack of air making him go numb.
His body was no longer his own.
That day, the snake had marked him, his teeth tainting his bloodstream with his venom, contaminating him inside and out, making him impure, twisted.
But over time, his body had healed, processing and purifying the malice within.
No longer bound by the snake’s mark, or so he thought.
Once more they’d met and talked, their bodies different than they were at first, though the crow’s mind had been locked away by order of the world’s rules, much to the snake’s grievance…
At the end of it all, centuries later, everyone’s memories were restored after the crystal cage of the god-crafted rules had collapsed around them. Again, scales and feathers met under the most improbable of circumstances, and, be it fate or somebody’s will, both of them were drawn and pulled into a great journey. The snake had grown weary of the soil he’d trampled for centuries, while the bird was merely a restless spirit, his wavering soul seeking something to cling to.
And now they were in each other’s arms, pushing and pulling, simultaneously craving each other’s touch and utterly repulsed by it.
But I don’t care if you don’t.
The snake looked up at the crow from inside his arms. For an instant, he was captivated by his eyes. Those eyes… He remembered a different time, when their pale greenish hue was flecked with amber and bronze. Now, they were a tempest of every shade of grey, a stormcloud-ridden sky he could stare into endlessly.
How strange.
From the moment he had finalized his theory about the mark he’d left on the bird fading and healing, he decided he wasn’t interested in him any longer. Whatever the reason for him reverting from devious and uninhibited to timid and cowardly, it was no longer of his concern.
The snake was an erratic sort. He couldn’t bear to stay chained to the things of the past.
Yet somehow, he felt almost as if he was lying to himself.
If he no longer cared about the crow, then why did those eyes still draw him in?
They were no longer bound by the blood-bond of malice and snake’s venom, but weren’t their minds still one?
For his whole life, he’d heard people say they couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He’d lived alone, a free, unbound life.
But he had yet to explore the extent of his connection to the crow, didn’t he? Maybe he should investigate a bit further, before giving up.
This was the excuse he gave himself for always falling back into this endless dance.
And I don’t feel if you don’t.
The crow looked down at the snake from inside his arms.
His stomach churned, a sickening, nauseous feeling. Heavens, he hated this man. He had every reason to. And yet, this feeling was tainted with other emotions he couldn’t decipher…
From the very depths of his soul, the crow despised the snake. It is only natural for prey to be wary of a predator, but this was more than regular fear and loathing. This was the person who had taken everything from him, who had stripped him of his identity, his morality, who had caused everyone to turn against him, who had pushed him over the edge, crushing and dissolving every boundary and every limit imposed on his soul until he became nothing but animalistic violence, a being riddled with malice.
Malice isn't as simple as many assume. The crow had come to realize this after it had wormed its way into his soul as well. It isn’t something that changes your soul with another and makes you become a different person. It tears down all your inhibitions, strips your mind of all control until you start questioning your sanity, it breaks down all the layers and defenses to bring out the innermost, darkest ugliest parts of you.
The snake, having been the one to push the crow into this abyss of corruption, his venom the very thing corroding the walls of the crow’s sanity, was then able to see the hideous hidden depths of his mind, to attack them, latch onto them, sink his pointed teeth into their very core and feed off of them, drawing his strength from the bird’s despair.
But in doing so, the core of the snake’s soul, which he so carefully guarded with mask after mask, had been stained with the bird’s blood, the snake’s fangs piercing too deep.
The bird knew, in their entirety, the twisted contents of the snake’s mind.
This kind of closeness, in spite of whatever feelings one could logically hold, was bound to create something beyond rationality, something dangerous and forbidden.
And I don’t want if you don’t.
Ever since he was a child, the snake had been alone.
Quite simply, his mind functioned on a different plane than most. Even before being stained with malice, this had been ongoing for as far as he could remember. Was he smarter or just strange? It was most likely both.
As a river wears out stone and rock, loneliness and misunderstanding wear out one’s soul. The snake grew from frustration to bitterness to exasperation, exacerbated by the malice that had nestled inside him.
Now that his mind had been one with the bird’s… Maybe he’d find respite from loneliness…
But he couldn’t let the mask slip. He wouldn’t reach out first.
Ever since he was a child, the bird had been afraid.
An indecisive, cautious soul, his reluctance in stepping outside the given lines had weighed him down and dragged him behind his entire life.
But when the snake caught him in his spires and poisoned his brain, the toxin made him high, almost giddy. Yes, he was miserable and terrified, but the parts of him that weren’t were feeling a sort of elation he’d never felt before. He was uninhibited, unbound…
Over time, this feeling faded, replaced once again with his old anxieties and fears.
He despised the snake, yes. But, if he could somehow, someway, make him experience everything all over again…
And I won’t say it, if you won’t say it first…
Suddenly, the snake made a mistake. A careless miscalculation, nothing more, a stronger pull than most. The crow, caught off balance, stumbled forward, far more than he had meant to.
Their faces almost touched. Feeling each other’s unsteady breathing on their skin, neither of them stirred an inch.
For an instant that seemed eternal, they stood there, on the edge of a kiss, or, more likely, a ruinous fall.
The crow opened his mouth to speak.
“...Seth.”
“Lich.”
“I just wanted to say… I…”
“...Yes?”
“...Nevermind.”
Straightening his rumpled suit in embarrassment, the crow pulled away from his partner. Chuckling to himself, the snake extended his hand again. The crow took it… And their endless dance resumed once more.