Skies of black claimed dominion over the isolation and desolate nature of this place. Glass would tint the pale moonlight an eerie purple hue and the walls would be dyed with all the terror these colours could tear out of the human soul. This place was the castle from where ruled Salem, the God-Queen and chooser of the destined.
The sound of heels clacking against the perfectly marbled floor of a castle with no name to speak of echoed through the silence, the pace of these steps spoke of need and emotions that could never quite breach the surface. Through the great effort of the one that bore them.
Each step accompanied by the slightest sound of small glass shards clashing against themselves, all attached by a small but loose band around her ankle.
These black glass shards on a loose black band on the ankle of the slender legs of the woman that was the Fall Maiden. Her black hair and smouldering eyes that breathed a soft, determined glow like an ember determined to become an inferno.
Cinder may have considered that inferno to be the embers destiny, if she heard that analogy aloud.
As more steps filled the silence of the unnamed castle, Cinder strode on with purpose and a confidence regained in self-righteous indignations she would mete upon all her enemies and her nemesis.
Despite the damage that had so unjustly been carved into her own flesh, and the losses Cinder had as a result there were a hand full of distractions that Cinder could make full use of.
The first stood out the most in her mind... A fellow one of the destined as Cinder understood. One who had felt loss, perhaps more than she. He who could ignore all pain but the ache of the scar on his heart, left by the injustice of a so-called hero that would stand in destiny's path. Hazel Rainart.
Hazel was calm, peaceful and indomitable. Cinder felt that last one as something as a challenge, from him to her in a silent way. Despite his nature as a peaceful man, Hazel carried a presence one that could out-strip the snide technician Watts and the cackling lunatic Tyrian.
Never one to speak unless he had something to say, always with purpose and true conviction. His serenity and presence a testament to his strength. His form meerly an extension of that strength and his soul was beyond question a reflection of Hazel's power too.
All of the destined were clear but Hazel was transparent, his desire as clear as the sky without clouds. Hazel wished for justice.
Before Beacon's fall Cinder never truly understood that wish. If he wanted justice he could take it, or enforce it on whoever he wished. Hazel had the power to make the justice he craved his own at any time. However, Cinder now shared the same desire, even if it wasn't as complete as the justice Hazel wished for; she could understand why he would wish for it.
Hazel, who would get justice for himself, would also do so for her. Unlike Watts, Hazel did not chide her for her faults, to him faults were obstacles to overcome. Unlike Tyrian, Hazel would not laugh at misfortune but tell her to ignore the pain caused by them and focus on her goals.
Hazel, who was a testament to fortitude and struggle, would be there as he always was. Not mocking. Not laughing. Not hurting. Not hurting her.
Cinder knew where to find Hazel, at times his diligence betrayed him and he could be found honing is already robust strength. He would sometimes train her wards and other times beat Tyrian into the dirt when the lunatic went too far.
Though Hazel, by all that wished to find him, could do so in the castle sanctum. Often Grimm would appear, often they would be centuries old and stronger than all but Salem, she who chose the destined. Or would feel they were, before Hazel brought them low for nothing more than practice.
Once more, Hazel was found there, crushing the skull of an ancient Ursa between his hands with nothing but his own power. Cinder watched in anticipation and gave a cruel smile when Hazel made the beast howl its final breath. With the sound of bone being crushed with all the force of thunder, the Ursa was no more.
Cinder surveyed the area once and was satisfied with the lack of Grimm, her steps telling of a purpose. One that Hazel knew to expect, this purpose being one that the titan of a man would not deny her. One that the two have exchanged since Cinder came to sit at Salem's table.
As seductive as she was, Cinder could be ever more so. She knew how to move her hips in a delicate sway to garner attention of boys and men alike, Cinder understood how a careless gaze or a meeting of the eyes could make a man, any man, nothing more than a toy for her. An item to use and discard at her pleasure.
Despite how much of herself she had lost Cinder Fall was a goddess amongst women. A body that should be considered fine art, by her own opinion. Seduction and lust given a body to drive all wild with desire for something they would never have. Techniques honed over years of being the best.
No such thing ever worked on Hazel. Stoic could not describe him. Even now, as Cinder did her walk towards him, holding her embers to his unflinching face she could see only herself in his eyes. No fear, no lust, nothing that she could ever discern.
The distance between them closed, Cinder stood at Hazel's feet. Eyes meeting, locked onto each other with unending focus. A conversation all of its own between the two, it was Cinder that took the first step though Hazel didn't need direction to follow along.
Cinder had her right arm at the back of Hazel, leaning into his form. Half an embrace, locking him into herself as much as she would bury herself in him. Hazel, for his part would hold Cinder with his strong but gentle embrace, a promise of two that have an understanding. A knowledge of each other that couldn't be shared.
Hazel would break first but the silent agreement continued. All this was to allow Cinder her own strength, to move and ask the question she knew the answer to. Eyes befitting his name, locking onto Cinder as she went onto the next phase.
Graceful movements with locked eyes came to follow. Cinder brought the black talon like instrument that had replaced her left arm to Hazels face. Each nail sharper than a dagger, the texture of a bone. The sight of a Grimm. Though Hazel did not flinch, he did not show alarm or fear. The placement of this appendage was not new to him, nor was its owner frightening.
With the utmost care, Cinder caressed Hazel with her forsaken appendage. With the part of her that was still human, holding Hazel close. The monolith of a man calmly took Cinder by the Grimm appendage she held to him and slowly moved it to his chest.
Hearts beating. Cinder felt the rhythm. Like Hazel it was peaceful, it spoke of life and was strong with it. Cinder began to trace Hazels chest around his heart as she listened to each beat. She could feel each beat keep with her own. Her ghastly appendage forced to accept the timing of the life within Hazel.
One. Two. Three. Four. Every beat brought with it calm and assurance. Cinder herself moved this time, bringing her right arm to her own chest, her left to the fading scars on Hazels arm. Scars gained through his pursuit of justice, a story in his tale of destiny. Their own entangled at times like this, together even if ever briefly.
Without looking away, Cinder allowed a smile to crawl onto her lips. The embers in her eyes soften even if only briefly, just for a moment. Without reaction or time to allow for one, Cinder embedded the bone-like nails into Hazel. Dragging them softly down his arm. Hazel did not react, the sensation familiar and the pain removed by his semblance.
The sound of flesh being torn fills the sanctum though Hazel maintains his eyes onto Cinders own, every moment through. As if caressing Hazel, Cinder brings her black appendage to her face, after tearing it out for his skin and muscle. Her eyes kept onto his own as Cinder cradled that talon that tore into him, as if precious in some way. A way known only by the two.
Briefly, Cinder allowed herself to be satisfied. Cinder allows herself to be at peace with everything since Beacon and for a moment, just a single moment. Cinder allowed her own heart to skip a beat.
The pale light, dyed by the glass gave the room its flavour. Its colours could not bring out fear in these two; something stronger swallowed the nagging doubts the two have that could even suggest fear. The air stills but even now the hearts can be heard, tremendous drums that unite the two destined.
The deep crimson drips onto the floor, another thing to fill the silence of the unnamed castle. Filling the space between Cinder and Hazel for mere moments. There is a shared consideration, written to both by the beating and an invitation for something more punctuated by the pale, dyed light. Though it isn’t time for it yet, Cinder knows. Turning and again walks the halls from the sanctum to her chambers.
Once more, the sound of heels clacking against the perfectly marbled floor of a castle with no name to speak of filled the silence. Followed faintly by black glass held on a loose band clashing against itself, while intermittent drips of deep crimson leave a trail.
Emotions that can could never quite breach the surface were held closely in the hands of the one that bore them, as if to summon the will to force them down once more.
These belonged to Cinder Fall, the destined.