Reload is amazing beyond belief
Grey.
Such a dull color. But so fitting. He always used to say that the colors of the world were a lie. That, in truth, there existed no red to warm the fire. No blue to blanket the sky. No green to flourish life. No white to covet serenity. And no black to foreshadow evil.
Only grey.
The world was painted in shades of grey. How could he have been so right, and so wrong at the same time? For all my life, the world was a swirl of red and black. Red of blood. And black of dreams. And then I met him. My world was colored anew. And there could be no color more beautiful than grey. No tint of blue or purple could woo me. No vibrant dance of rainbows could stand out enough to catch my eye.
But he, he could paint the world in one color, and my heart would burst from the hues before my shadowed eyes. He changed me. The face of the earth would change where his footsteps followed. He colored the world, and saw only grey. But I saw something different. The colors I saw were pure, no cloud could dim their luminous glow, only the absence of his presence. These were colors that stained the soul, leaving their fingerprints in shocking memory. Nothing was ever the same color twice. Except for him. He was the most beautiful color of all. One I had never known before.
He was love. And the oddest thing. . . He was human. A mortal with the undying face of a god. And the grace of an angel. The winds of the world were his wings. And he used them to dance. The stars themselves could never have shone so bright. The very leaves of autumn would quiver with jealousy whenever his feet alighted with the wind. And every time he danced, I saw only him. The rest of reality would melt away. And every time he stopped, I knew. One day he would dance for a different kind, the kind, I had once danced along side.
And I loved him. Even though I was the very essence he feared most. I was death. In my own form. In my own frame. His happiness became more important to me than the future, or the truth. I began to live the life of a human. And for ten years, I was human. I felt mortal enough by his side. And it pleased me, something I still do not understand.
My façade became the shade of grey he fell in love with. So what could I do but keep lying, to keep the truth from finding him. And what is more a tragedy than when fate decides to make such a romance nothing but a decades little joke. Because however hard I tried to hide him from it. The truth managed to find us anyhow.
In nature, though it is the male mates job to protect, such was my first instinct. Friends of my fathers no doubt, and fools at that. Even without my blade, they fell easily enough. I took them away from our home, hoping he would not then be caught in the scuffle. One by one, drop by blood drop, the grass became red with life.
And my job was done. Almost.
Shivers in the wind caught my senses as I let my lazy feet carry me home. Something was amiss. Sun scorned sparks of orange and red lifted above the hillcrest like doomed firefly’s. Perhaps their fate was sweeter than his. The very blood in my veins froze, even my rigid heart wept for fear. Not for myself. But for him.
Fears felt are often fears realized when you past is as black as mine. Home no longer, but a tomb.
People scattered the ground like ripe fallen apples. Their eyes open in an eternity of horror as their warmth faded away, robbing their bodies of color, life, and blood.
And he was there.
Dying among the ashes.
Even as I knelt to his side, he became another new color for me. Grief. The unwanted arrival of stinging blue tears. I would have called his name, but the wind already screamed it for me. Eyes that could of swayed the heavens looked up at me, fading into time. He smiled. He knew. He had always known. But even for my truth, he had loved me anyway. And I wished for both this moment to freeze in immortality, and for it to just end.
“You never did dance for me Eclipse.”
Crystals fell warm and salty from my eyes. “My dance is not one for love.” I answered softly. My hands shook while I pulled him closer, blood seeping slowly from his lips. “Shall I never dance again?” his voice was fading. I shook my head. “Of course you shall. For the one reason that I cannot. You are mortal. And those who may die dance always with the dead.” He smiled still, his grace shining through the carnage.
And I saw then he was right. The colors of the world fell away in petals before my eyes. And what I say was gray. It was he that had given the earth it’s colors, given my heart it’s hues. Without him, there was only grey. But his last words painted a shade of grey I shall never forget. “Those who can die may dance with the dead. Those who cannot, dance for them.”
I did not answer. But leaned forward to kiss once more his lips, even as life left them. I lay him down and stood. My eyes dry. A single figure stepped from the shadows. Demon claws drenched in blood that matched exactly the voids in his stomach.
And for the dead...
For him...
I danced.
Grey.
Such a dull color.
But so fitting.
I place a single red rose upon the stone of his grave.
It stood out against the neutral.
Beautiful.
As he once stood out against the world. This world. Of one hue.
Grey.
For ten years, I did little more than wish I shared his mortal existence. Because I knew, mortals die. Demons, cannot. The rains would whisper... In sorrow... In eternity...
In grey.