To my Eternal Mistress
"Won't you look at me for once?"
Note: This is about two of my OC's, their relationship is doomed from the start. This is just a one shot for their dynamics.
To desire someone that fought fate, only for them not to fight for you.
Mighty Arcana, why do you not wish to see me in the same way I see you? Do you truly believe my feelings to be so empty as to be mere lust?
Yet Babalon was what She embodied, lust. The existence of feelings such as love should have been impossible, the idea unthinkable in itself.
Yet she fell like Babylonās Tower for the only being that would never love her so. How could the fortuna be oh so cruel?
Was fate even involved? Or was this just a selfish feeling?
Balance and Lust never combined, for to live within Balance, feelings were pacified and Lust dod not exist in its path.
Yet still, Lust begged and begged to the Balance for one beautiful lie from her lips.
āTell me at least, Oā Mighty Arcana, that you love me.ā Babalon begged, clenching to the pure white robes with sharp nails of her contrary, almost tearing the beautiful fabric apart.
The sight was pitiful in its entirety. Lust begging to be loved beyond what body and mortal sensations can bring. And yet Balance seemed so unmoved by such pitiful sight.
āThou wish me to lie in its entirety?ā Arcana questioned. āYou poor foolā¦ Let go of my robes before someone sees you tearing up like this.ā She told them, cold and, seemingly, unmoving.
Yet their hands still reached to cup the cheeks of the seductress with a tenderness so unlike everything they stood for.
āPlease, you know it will never happen. Not in this life, nor another or ever. Why wish to hear a lie so temporary it will fade to the dust of time?ā A sigh escaped Arcanaās lips. āFor why, if you know the truth, why insist on eternal delusion? My dear friend-ā
āDonāt.ā Babalon began to tear up, stabbed right in the heart. āDonāt treat me so kindly yet call me nothing but āfriendā, or is one a joke to such Mightiness?ā
ā...ā The hands of Arcana slowly moved away, just as she began shaking her head. āIt will never be, and oh, how sorry I am for you.ā
Those were the final words before the Balance finally stepped away and retreated, leaving Lust crying alone in the endless halls of the Divine Court. Endless as Love and Lust in itself.
An Endless pit of emptiness.
Soon enough after Her retreat, Lust lowered herself, embracing the tears falling so pathetically.
To embody Lust and love so deeply, what is that if not a curse?
And yet Lust did not wish to give up, did not wish to be forgotten beyond momentary feelings. If there is no love, there can be hate.
Hate and love are not so apart after all, not so different, right?
Eons passed, time flowing across planets, stars, universes and beyond like an untamable and free force.
Lust never stopped loving Balance, yet love can grow so obsessive till it begins to choke like hellfire.
And now what was their love to begin with? Was it love? Envy? Hatred?
Such a complex mix of feelings that will never brew towards something new, then again, it was never meant to be.
Not in this life, nor the next one, or ever.
And yet Lust was still there, still surrounding Balance with a sickening sweetness that began to overwhelm and overtake spaces of freedom.
Balance's care began to wane, and so, feelings that might remain eternal in the face of time were born.
Hate, love, tensionā¦ they were all the same to both of them. A mix so toxic that the after taste could never be drowned even with Ambrosia.
To Lust, being remembered with either love or hate was what was desired, for even if Balance finds a soulmate to spend eternity with, theyāll never forget them.
Oh, how I despise them, Balance is just a boring and feeble thing, yet to claim to never be overcome with Lustā¦
Oh, how I detest themā¦ that their love can never be mine.
Yet even so, with hatred and all, Lust would never blame the Seed born from Balance. Lust would still adore them and their childrenā¦ even if their heart would forever be broken in exchange.
Foolish Seed, so loved, so kindlyā¦ how much she abhors that creature.
Itās pitiful, really, a being such as herself disliking a mere child born from tears of Saints, blood of soldiers and red flowers that bloomed on an empty fieldā¦ the child was born out of luck! For only a drop of divine Ichor of Balance fell to make them born.
And yetā¦ they won the love of Balance so easilyā¦
How she abhors them, or so Lust claims. For this Seedā¦ It was something worth protecting.
Ugh, like mother like childā¦ both so despicable, soā¦ unreachable.
It was never meant to be. Not now, not in the next life. Never.
