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Flint and steel clicked casually together, sparks flying upwards and dying in the cold air with their brethren that crackled from the campfire. A boot scuffed the earth slowly, dragging lines in the earth and uprooting the meagre grass trying to grow there. A calloused, rough hand traced the bark of the log being used as a seat, drifting closer… It shook for a moment. Then it clenched into a fist.
Etho glanced up at his newly found soulmate with curiosity. Green eyes met his own for a second—then darted away. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he scowled into the night.
“Are you okay?”
There was no response. Joel scowled harder in the direction of the forest, as if searching for foes he expected to emerge. His fist ground down into the wood, scraping bark, and Etho felt his knuckles sting. He looked down. Droplets of blood clung to the steel in his hand. Still, though, no words rang from his soulmate’s mouth, so he shrugged and looked away. The fire crackled, hot air washing over his face. It was mesmerising. He found himself tempted to reach forwards, to let the flames bathe his hand, wash away the blood on his knuckles. Not that he would. It would just make the pain worse.
“I’m only gonna hurt you, you know.”
Etho looked up. “Sorry?”
An ache spread through his jaw as Joel ground his teeth. “I’m just going to hurt you. With us as soulmates.”
He blinked. “Well… yeah, this is a death game, and I can feel your pain. You’re going to end up hurt eventually. I guess that’ll hurt me too,” he said slowly, trying to twist his tongue around the words. Joel shook his head, frustrated, and Etho felt blood stain his lip.
“No, no, you don’t— you don’t get it! I’m just— I’m a fire. Every single one of these games, I end up destroying all my alliances, and I murder and I break things and I burn things—and, and, I know you’re meant to do that as a red life, but I push the boundaries even before that, and I’m going to hurt you, Etho,” Joel spat, pain sparking bright through Etho’s knuckles, shadows flickering across both of their faces. “I’m a fire, and I’m going to end up burning you, like I always end up burning everyone, including myself. I’ve never won any of these games. I keep burning out. And this time I’m gonna take you with me.”
Silence stretched out once again. Beneath the dancing light of the fire, Etho could see the blood dripping from Joel’s chin, and could feel its twin running from his own lip. His tongue darted out and iron bloomed across his tastebuds. His soulmate dipped his head. Etho placed the flint and steel down.
And he sunk his canines into his tongue.
Joel jolted, one hand flying to his mouth, the other grabbing at Etho’s arm. “Fuck! Ow, shit, Etho you bastard , what the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Etho met his eyes and held his gaze, feeling the blood pool in his mouth and watching it dribble from his soulmate’s lips. Green eyes burned, darkened like ash. Slowly, the hand let go of his sleeve, falling heavily to the log, supporting Joel’s weight as he refused to lean back.
“I’m going to hurt you, too,” Etho said quietly. He leaned ever-so-slightly closer. Blood dripped from their chins. “I know I will. I don’t care about your good intentions. I’ll burn you right back. I’ll trade you blow for blow, and if it destroys us both, so be it. We can burn together.”
Joel let out a slow breath. “I’m going to turn us to ashes, Etho. I’m going to poison us. It always happens—I can’t help it.” He paused. Etho swallowed and felt iron burn his throat. Their eyes burned into each other. “Are you… are you fine with that?”
Red stained their skin, their clothes, the wood beneath their hands. Pain pulsed in their mouths and their lips and their knuckles. The campfire crackled, flames licked the air, sparks flew to the sky. Their eyes burned as wind blew ash into their faces.
“I’m fine with that.”