When they first met, neither one was much more than space; space waiting to be molded into instruments of their fate.
~No their fates were not locked,
and fates do seem to change,
but with change comes the risk of forgetting your name.~
He had begun to develop a head, she truly, was just space. Something about him made her want to follow. He led the way, although this way was unfamiliar to both. They sat, and talked, and learnt and grew. He developed arms to help protect her, and she a head to understand him, and one arm to do what she could to return the favor of protection. They leaned on each other, and just were; they existed as two beings should. Pure.
Naturally they parted ways, as the world doesn't allow for such undisturbed closeness. Even apart, however, they leaned one each other and grew.
This maintained connection acted as a thread. A red thread, to be exact, fraying and lengthening, but never completely snapping. He now a fully developed dark silhouette, and she a fully developed ghostly silhouette, began to appreciate their previous state of simple space. Space cannot be torn or killed or broken. Space just is.
He sat, with his head being torn at and into by demons unknown, and although he had his arms for protection, they were always better used for protecting others. The boy was strong, but he was forced to feel the tearing.
A distance away, sat the girl. Her newly gained body being torn at by demons whose unrelenting noise caused her to grow less sure of her every motion. Her arms, her feet, her hands, all fell victim to the circle of unrelenting and repeating motions and thoughts brought on by the creatures living in her head. She could no longer feel reason.
Eventually the boy, tired and worn from protecting others, lost his ability to see the light. The girl, at a like place, began to fear and draw from the type of live which she once loved, and chose to dwell in solitude, where the voices seemed quieter.
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