She never saw light. An eternity of beautiful darkness had taught her only to ever require the absence of calm in which she had existed for what time she could recall - a perpetual emptiness that could never be explained but was solid and still; one which bore resemblances to shadows contained by a fine cut stone.
Never was she aimless, yet her aims were hardly realized. She was a shadow, an absence of light, denied again and again by glare and shine, and something solid and frigid. A shadow she was indeed, but one that burned, that flickered with want, and that attempted to consume what was desirous to it.
She was always in pursuit of something immediate, but she was consistently prevented from obtaining it. With time, this honed her, and she became practiced. Now she is rough, dangerous - a knife of obsidian; she cuts easily and unbearably. Her dagger has ebony edges like razors that she can use, and the light can no longer pretend at placating her; the cold can no longer entrap it. The shadows slice through the bright ice now.
But her blackness is isolated, and she is furious. She is unmoving, and yet always shifting; and so she is in peril, for the slightest alteration in position can destroy a shadow, placing light where it was not before - the most ambitious shadows, after all, have all been eradicated.
Her darkness is careless, though, and remains furious.
He is bright, but is so very, very cold. He is frozen flame, with suspended shades of rose and gold, scarlet and crimson - colors that are forgiving and aware of their mistakes, and those that are not.
Once, he was great, when he remained a blaze - when he was still a young flare, hiding the darkness that he created. Though his color and emission were intense, the putout of his fire hid what occurred because of it. A vile darkness was made from his light, one not akin to the pure onyx of her- this was entirely independent of that. The incriminatory pockets that his light refused to touch were awful, but they were hidden and bleached with his fervor.
These baleful shadows hurt him, dulling the hue and intensity of his light. Yet he continued to hide them, ashamed of what he had done, or perhaps refusing to admit to them. He does not burn white hot any longer, having been lowered by the deeds he concealed, and he does not glow as he once did.
They existed separately after what his light did to her shadow, each with their own purpose. He, with his light and fire that was so cold, concerning himself with hiding his crimes, and she, with her blackness and rage, hunting for what she deserves after having been imprisoned alongside those same malignancies with which the fire and light and attempted to group her.
There is conflict between them - A clear clash between white and black.
They do not realize their capabilities to forgive.
Should they concede to forget what has been done to them, they would find that if the ice of ivory of the one were to meet with the black fire of the other in a union, power could be borne of them both that is unimaginable.
Everywhere that gold and jet would meet, everywhere that obsidian edges would be caressed and eased by the regret of pure, white sunbursts, the constitutions of each of them would be softened, and changed. His fiery hues, which so closely resemble blood, would meet with her tumultuous dark that had drawn forth so much of that same thing, and they would blend to form lovely, crystalline compassion, a ruby given from one to the other to signify concession.
The burning cold of the lighter of the two and the abandonment and heat of the other would be tempered upon contact, and their blending would be awesome; from it would come acceptance, as well as acknowledgement, and both of them would be relieved.
They could become harmonious.
Both of them individually are mighty, but their conflict is a great one, filled with much loss and damage. When a freezing conflagration meets with hot, pooling darkness in war, injury occurs massively.
But when their raw, elemental emotions combine, when flame embraces the dark, a perfect relationship is created - one conducive to the elements that constitute it, and to a strength much greater than that possessed by either of the entities that come together.
There is much power and beauty with no precedent that would be produced should they only be unified.