A Something Called Love

==Introduction==
A short, tricky story about love written by RaevynSkies. Note I said about love, not love. So no, this is not a romance story. Lots of figurative language, (which I will probably look back on and facepalm at its overdone-ness) confusing perspectives, and a bizarre ending are to forward to.
==A Something Called Love==
She says as her claws snag her scale and pulls it off, the bright amber undertones suddenly dulled from its broken contact. A something called love, she says. That’s why I’m doing it for you.
She looks at her fallen scale, lying forlornly on the ground. Is it like the hate, she asks, confused. The hate you say is for the Enemies.
She snorts with contempt, shakes her head. No, she says. But yes in a way. For too much love can breed hate, and too much hate can breed love. Love can masquerade as hate. Hate can masquerade as love. But hate is hate and love is love.
No space between them.
She remains silent. The dark waters lap at her scale, pushes it into the river. She watches as it is swallowed under, but follows its faint glitter to the end of the tunnel.
She gets it now, nods her head.
Thank you, she says, bowing her head. Thank you for the explanation. The other inclines her head in acknowledgement.
You’re welcome, she says. You’re welcome.
~~~
It is too dark here, too cold. It reminds of ice dragons. Her light does not work here, in the like ice dragon place.
Feel the hate, she had said. Feel it twisting, writhing, burning inside of you. Feel it pressing against you, swirling in its dark confined space, wanting freedom, wanting revenge. Feel it, understand it, and your light will spark again.
She tries. She thinks of the horrid SandWing, of how dare he defy her. He must die, she had said. Yes, he deserves it, that ignorant, snooty lizard.
He must die.
The wind bites back, the final wisp of flame flickers and dies. It whispers to her, softly, mockingly, as she struggles to catch it again.
She said it would not be like the ice dragon place, she cries. She said, she said.
She said.
But the sun does not rise on her command, her striker kindles no flame, her mentor refunds no promises.
Too cold.
Too cold.
Too cold.
~~~
She is wrong, he says, warm scales pressing against hers. She taught you how to hate who she wanted you to hate, and hate is not what you need.
He takes her claw, touches where brown scales meet raw flesh.
Too much hate in you.
But hate is only for the Enemies, she insists. She never said you are an Enemy.So I don’t hate you.
He chuckles, uncoils his tail gently from his safe spiral.
Tell me then, he said. Who else do you not hate?
A pause.
Who do you love?
She tilts her head. The words love and hate swim in the murky waters of her mind. Neither of them drift to shore.
Why are you repeating the question? She asks, looking down at her claw. Her mentor had never repeated a question before. Why was he? She dabs at the soft pink skin, relaxing in the bright red that wells up, the stars that follow.
He quickly covers up the color, inhaling sharply. She hisses at him. Her mentor’s color smears on his claw as he draws it back hesitantly.
A pause.
I love my mentor.
A shadow of a grimace flashes past his snout. Who’s your mentor?
She loves me.
But who?
He isn’t an Enemy, so he is not hated. But there is no space in between the four letter words, only one between love and admiration.
You, she says. His forehead creases, confused. He flashes her a puzzled look, scratches his head. Bright red streaks down his snout.
Dull amber, chipped gold, bright, bright red- the color of Her scales, the color of love.
She did this to her. This was love.
She said so.
And so she pins his tail down, deepens the glistening streak on his face, and sets her fire free, swirling and roaring and hissing in its majestic blaze of red and gold.
And as his cries are devoured by the flames, she turns her eyes to the sky, firelight glinting off of her amber orbs.
 “So,” she says. “This is what they call love.”
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)