Absolutely no one is doing it like the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound.
They’re nascent gods. They’re the embodiments of change and stagnation, and as such are in constant opposition. They used to be one. They were torn from each other, edges purposefully left bloody and ragged. They feel each other’s absence like a wound. They love each other, because all that is not one is the other. They love each other, because to love the other is to love what once was theirs. They are beyond human comprehension, and yet their relationship encompasses all the brightest and strangest and most grotesque human emotions. They flirt awkwardly with each other. They threaten each other. They trick each other. They have erotic knife fights. They have intense philosophical debates. They make each other better. They mutilate each other. They are the universe itself, perceiving itself, ever evolving and self-immolating and expanding as they discover new avenues of expression and experience. They destroy each other, over and over again. They forgive each other every time.
This is a love story, and they are love.
