“I keep telling you, it’s just not that simple,” Enael repeated in exasperation. “Purpose was a cross you decided wasn’t worth bearing and that’s fine. You know I support you in that. Why can’t you support me in choosing to rise to my Purpose, rather than fall with you?”

It was a road the odd couple had tread innumerous times by this point. Each knew the other’s lines well enough by now that they could finish each other’s sentences if they wanted to. Even so, the argument had to be had, because nothing else could be more worth fighting for. Besides, maybe, possibly, potentially one or the other would finally find the right sequence of words for the other to concede. Or at least that’s what each of them hoped.

"Because I see how much pain you're in, Enny," the demon Aistiqlial lamented. "Every day brings new wounds, new burns, new scars. You try to hide it from everyone else, but you know there's no hiding it from me."

Enael silently gripped her wrist tight, eyes downcast, tugging on her sleeve in an attempt to keep the wound that had started this whole argument from view. "Yes, well, the effort is worth the pain. Fulfilling a Purpose is no easy thing. You know that. It burns. It hurts. It does everything it can to make you let go. It wants you to. It dares you to. If it were easy to hold on to, it wouldn't be a Purpose."

"And how much longer will you have to hold on until it's fulfilled, huh? Sure, you can do another week, another month, another year. After that though? Do you really think you can hold on for another ten or twenty years if that’s what your Purpose demands?” Enael couldn’t help but visibly wince and shrink from the very idea, her wings folding inwards and her halo dimming. Aistiqlial eased off the gas, her barb having landed a little more true than intended, asking, “Will the fulfillment be worth it if it's burned through everything that's left of you?"

Silence hung in the air as Enael tried very hard to look anywhere other than her lover’s eyes. "If it does, then it does… That's my choice to make, Qlia. You didn't know how much of you would be left when you fell. I don't know how much of me will be left when my Purpose is fulfilled. Why is this so different?"

“Because I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself, Enny!” Aistiqlial pled. “Maybe you have the fortitude to suffer and bleed and give of yourself for however long it takes, but I don't know how much more I have in me for it. All the salves and dressings and tears and heartache and the way your light and your fire dims on the roughest of days. You say it’s your burden to bear, but you’re not the only one holding it up."

"I never asked for that…"

"You never had to."

"Point taken…"

"Then why, Enny? Why risk everything for it?" There was a desperation in her voice Enael rarely saw and Aistiqlial rarely resorted to. It begged for response, for understanding.

"I just,” she paused, searching for the words that couldn’t begin to relay everything she needed them to in that moment. “I wouldn't be me if I didn't. You live the truth of your name every day and I love that about you. I do. And I live my truth every day by maintaining my devotion and I know you love that about me too."

"I never said that…"

"You never had to."

"Point taken…"

"So what then?” Aistiqlial sighed. “We just keep going until one or the other reaches their breaking point?"

"Same as it's ever been." Once again it seemed that the argument was resolved to remain unresolved.

The two sat in quiet contemplation as they internally bemoaned their collective inability to just get their beloved to see the matter from their own perspective. Finally, Aistiqlial broke the silence. "Ok, but have you ever considered…"

"Hmm?"

"You’d look really hot with horns,” she said in a flirtatious attempt to change the subject.

“Oh? But Qlia, I thought you liked the feathers,” Enael reciprocated, giving them a little flutter as her halo fluoresced.

“Enny, girl, you know I love the feathers, but change is hot. Remember the night I fell?” As if Enael could ever forget. Aistiqlial ran one hand down her hips as the other ran up over one of her horns, her tail swishing seductively as she did so, accentuating each and every one of her curves to emphasize the point. “You couldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“I meeeeeeeean~, can you blame a girl?” she responded with a smirk, before half leaping, half flying across the length of their bedroom to pounce atop her lover. “Besides, purple just suits you,” she said, before planting a kiss on Aistiqlial’s lips, ending any chance at further argument.

They’d be back at it again in a few days. Or perhaps a few weeks. Or perhaps a few months. Whenever one of their bottles got too full to fully keep the lid on, then it’d start up all over again. Still, they’d be there. For each other. For their beloved. For as long as they could.

End 🧵