The rise of existence at dawn

Sharp canines pierced the fresh, supple skin of a mango, juice dripping down a dark-brown chin, staining the sand below. Squinting towards the bleeding light pouring from above, Mel stretched out her legs until her feet were being tickled by the lapping water. The sea was calm today, breathing in and out as if asleep, and Mel kept eating - devouring more like - as she waited, as she watched the twinkling reflections on the surface of the water, pure diamonds of light.

The breeze didn’t chill her arms yet, but she thought idly that Vila must be on her way. She liked to catch the last rays of the day the most. She used to say, There’s beauty in what fades away and becomes something else entirely. You know, like us.

Mel smiled as she thought about Vila’s translucent wings, a halo of moonlight at her back, as they stared lovingly at each other before the nymph crashed the still water and disappeared into the deep. It reminded her of soft music that sang love in each verse, it reminded her of l'amour est un oiseau rebelle, of spinning around in the living room, grounded, and she, always floating, always dripping, eternally young and beautiful.

A bite to the side of her neck made her cry out into the empty beach.

“You’re distracted.” A growling voice rang in her ears, but she smiled nonetheless, heart jackrabbiting in her throat.

“You’re here.” She sighed, tone laced with adoration and relief. She watched Vila fly into her field of vision, eyes as dark as the heaviest storm cloud and yet shining with barely contained lightning. The nymph settled with a purposeful lack of grace in her broad lap and clang to the warmth of Mel’s sturdy body. 

“I am cold.” Vila made her teeth chatter, as humans do when they are cold, as if to prove her statement. Mel hummed in acknowledgement. 

“You don’t have to be cold for me to hold you.”

Vila buried her face on the side of Mel’s neck, lips resting against the bruise bitten skin.

“I’m never warm.” She whispered, sorrowful.

“You’re warm now. So warm.” Mel repeated, pulling back so she could look Vil in the eyes, reassure her. She brushed a thumb across damp skin and got a small smile in return, blinding in its sincerity.

Without much effort, Mel took hold of the hilt of her sword, piercing the sand with it, and pulled them both up from the floor, arm tightening around Vila’s lithe waist, crushing the nymph to her chest but mindful of her wings. Mel bounced her effortlessly and laughed, delighted, when that earned her an annoyed and pissed off stare.

“They’re waiting for us.” Vila supplied, warning in her voice.

Mel’s face fell, a frown overtaking it. "Let 's fly then.”

A vast sludgy darkness unfolded itself out of Mel’s naked back, spectral and wing-like. She took flight between a blink and the next and became the sky.

They descended on the brink of a lake. 

The air around it tasted coppery and the water was thick and crimson, a stamp of death in the middle of a great green forest. Everything was deceptively still and quiet, and Mel’s voice sounded loud when she spoke, all business.

“Call them.” 

Vila nodded and flew away, stopping in the middle of all that red, floating just above water. She opened her mouth on a silent note, took a deep, lung-filling breath - and shrieked.

Skeletons, perfect clean bones, rose from the body of the lake, graceful in their existence.

Mel dispersed her wings and created a dome, successfully imprisoning them and readying her sword.

One by one and threes by threes, she hacked away at the hollows that flung themselves at her, creating a surface graveyard of still white.  

She moved surely, striking quickly, muscles tensing as she hurled the great sword with accuracy, never wasting a stroke.

When she drove the sword through the last one standing, Vila dropped into the water as if an invisible hand had stopped holding her and released ripples of translucent light into the murky water, turning it clear and good again. She emerged like a jumping carp, splaying her wings in a show of pride, looking like a moth pinned to the night. Mel watched, fascinated, and destroyed her dark, letting the moon in.

“Lemon drop?” Mel offered lightly when Vila came back to float next to her. Vila directed a dirty look at her, but snatched the sweet away anyway.

They intertwined their fingers then, hands clasped together as the other dipped in cold water. Pulse after pulse of combined energy created new life inside the small lake, colorful algae, a whole food chain of species, a small world at their feet.

They were a cradle of birth, of essence, of existence. They were two powerhouses brought together by nothing short of love, a strong bond forged through years of shared space within one world. They were bringers of beauty and balance, restoration and rebirth. 

“There’s beauty in what fades away and becomes something else entirely.” Vila said - repeated - as dawn approached.

“I like the destruction.” Mel added, matter-of-factly.

“I like the restoration.”

Mel hummed. “Goody two-shoes.”

“Devil woman.”

“Light of my life.”

“My safe harbour.” 

“We’re so sweet it makes me rot.” Mel said with a grimace.

Vila smiled, a proper toothy smile, and pressed their lips together.

“You’ve always been rotten, and I like you so much.”

“Yeah? That’s a good thing because I’ve been planning something real nasty for our 300th.”

Vila shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come on, I need a nap.”

“It’ll be spring again by the time you wake up.” Mel replied, clearly annoyed.

“Won’t you wait for me, Melea?” Mel blushed at the use of her given name and sighed, defeated by her relentlessly lovely wife.

“I always do.”

With a powerful uncoil of her wings, Mel turned skyward and left.

Vila walked into the lake and let herself fall asleep at the soft bottom, lulled by the slow ripples, forever licking the shore.