#ajtr

Lysandra was the product of the joining of Earth and Sky.  The two deities -- two lovers -- created by Time, were instructed to keep the land above from meeting with the land below.  Both were warned that should either land ever meet, the universe would cease to exist.  For many thousands of years Earth and Sky did as instructed for the creation of a universe had never before occurred.  If they were to be the ones to be the cause of destruction to such a new and beautiful thing their names would be shamed.  Thus they watched both from above and below as Time created new immortal beings; some of which were sculpted from the clay found within Earth, others created from the mist that drifted across Sky’s body.  

The longing Earth and Sky felt for one another never faded; each hoped for the day that they would be reunited.  Even if it were to be only for mere moments they could touch, each deity would cherish the time together.  

That moment came two millennia after Time had created the universe, and two millennia after giving the order that Earth and Sky were never to touch.  

“You both have done as asked without question and without fail,” Time whispered across the universe.  “As thanks, I shall permit you to join once more.”  Time presented Earth with a flower, petals made of gold and silver.  “There are twenty-four petals.  You have until the last petal falls before you each must return to your domains.”

On the first night Earth and Sky were reunited they took a silver petal of the flower and created Night, naming her Lysandra.  Her hair shined silver and her eyes were the color of stardust.  On their last night, Earth and Sky took the last petal, golden in color, and created Day, naming him Keron.  His hair glittered gold and his eyes were the color of sunlight.  

“Our children,” Sky said.  “You are the product of Earth and Sky.  As such you shall each be gifted a domain to rule.”

“Lysandra, you shall rule darkness.”  As Earth spoke he presented his daughter with a flower similar to the one gifted to Earth and Sky by Time.  You have until each silver petal falls from this flower to fashion the universe as you like.”

“Keron, you shall rule light,” Sky said.  “You have until each golden petal falls to fashion the universe as you like.”  

Thus Day and Night were brought into the universe.  Each night, Lysandra would gift her mother with small, silver beads of light.  Each day, Keron would gift his father with golden rays of warmth.  And while there has yet to be another day in which Time grants Earth and Sky to reunite once more, their children work as messengers between the two lovers, exchanging notes one parent has for the other.

Gladiolus was the product of a fight between Loneliness and Serenity.  

Many eons after the creation of Night and Day, a war broke out among the gods.  There were those that believed the creation of humans was something to celebrate, and there were those that believed humans should be wiped away before they too drastically changed the universe.  There had been no rules against creating new creatures -- many other gods had already done so, introducing numerous animals and plants into the world -- so one day he used stardust borrowed from Night and clay borrowed from Earth to make the first humans.  Too often Loneliness felt alienated from the other gods, too often he felt as though he wandered the universe alone, and this was how he believed his problem could be fixed.

“You will bring destruction to the universe by keeping these creatures here,” Serenity had accused.  “They are spreading across Earth much too fast.”

“Please leave them be,” Loneliness pleaded.  “They mean no harm, and many other gods see the potential that they have.”

“And many others also see them as they should be seen: a plague to our gifted universe.”

“They are no plague,” Loneliness stated, voice entering a dangerous timbre.  “I shall not allow you to harm them.”  

“I give you three days to rid Earth of these beings.  If they are not gone by that time I will be at your door with an army.”

So three days passed, and Loneliness stood by his statement.  He did not squash the life of the mortals that wandered the land below.  Instead he banded together his own army, those that believed what he did: that humans were a gift and their lives were not to be taken away in such a manner.  It was on that third night the war broke out among the opposing sides.  

On the third night of the thirtieth year, Loneliness and Serenity faced each other once again.  Both were heavily wounded, but neither would waver in their conviction.  Swords raised, the two gods lunged at one another, and just as their weapons clashed a blinding white overtook the universe.  As the light cleared, each god watched as a man knelt before them, hair the color of obsidian and eyes that glowed amber.  He was built as a warrior, body corded with muscle, yet when he introduced himself to the baffled gods on either side of him he said, “I am Gladiolus, God of Love.”  His voice was deep enough to throw tremors across the land above, and there was a savageness in him that kept Loneliness and Serenity from attempting to attack him.  “End this war,” he said.  “The gods will do more destruction to the universe than the humans will should it continue.”

It was on that night that the war came to an end, though the gods remained divided on the topic for many more years to come.

It was while Gladiolus had been walking among the mortals in the Land Below that he first came across Lysandra.  

Ultimately it was the mystery that surrounded the goddess that intrigued Gladiolus.  Though he had been presented to the universe at night, he had never met the goddess.  He had heard of the Goddess of Night on multiple occasions though.  Some of the tales told of her held threads of fear and animosity.  Other tales were woven with admiration and reverence.  The one thing each tale had in common, however, was that it was unusual for Lysandra to be seen often and by many.  Older gods, those that had known her when she was still new to the world, would often recount how truly bright her personality was.  Her friendliness could have easily rivaled Keron’s.  It wasn’t until rather recently -- perhaps the last couple millennia -- that Lysandra became more a figure of legend even among the younger gods than a true being.  

Appropriately it had been during a clear night that Gladiolus first met Lysandra.  He had just gotten away from a fight in one of the many bars in the Land Above.  It had been a while since he’d last fought like that with another deity, and perhaps it was his own fault for picking a fight with the Goddess of War.  Gladiolus could still feel the golden ichor -- the blood of the gods -- dripping down his face.  He wondered idly if he would have a new scar on his immortal body.  It was only by the hand of another god that a deity could be truly injured.  

As Gladiolus wandered the ever lush, green fields of the Land Above a soft glimmer of silver caught his eyes.  Just ahead, standing at the edge of a darkened pond was a woman.  Her hair flowed like a river of moonlight, ending just before her waist.  Her wrists were decorated with silver circlets that matched the rings that adorned her fingers.  The black dress she wore spilled gracefully over her frame, the silken material reflecting the light of the moon.  She seemed at peace as she studied the reflective surface of the pond.  

Gladiolus debated whether he should approach or not, but without realizing his feet had already begun to bring him over to the woman.  When he was close enough to be heard without having to shout, he said, “Beautiful night tonight.”  

The woman before him didn’t jump at his sudden words, instead she simply nodded her head.  “Thank you.”  It took Gladiolus a few moments to understand why that had been her answer.  

“You’re Lysa- uh, Lady Night.”

“Lysandra is fine,” she said with a wave of her hand.  She finally turned her eyes away from the pond, and Gladiolus was struck by her silver eyes.  There was something vaguely disconcerting about them, like they could see completely through him, down to the very essence of his being.  Her brows rose as she noticed the ichor.  “You’re bleeding.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s what I get for picking a fight with the war goddess,” Gladiolus chuckled, bringing his hand up to wipe away the last few droplets of golden blood.  

“You picked a fight with Aranea?  Are you mentally unstable?”  She turned back to the pond and bent down to wet a small cloth.  Lysandra walked over to where Gladiolus was standing and handed it over.  “Wash the dried ichor off, you look like a brute.”

“No sugar coating from you, huh?” Gladiolus said as he did as instructed.  He winced slightly as the cloth came into contact with the wound.  

“A man that willingly enters a fight with Aranea is unlikely to be hurt by such words.”  Lysandra took back the cloth and rinsed it in the pond before studying Gladiolus.  “So why exactly did the God of Love pick a fight with the one person he shouldn’t have?”

“You know who I am?”

“Why wouldn’t I?  You knew who I was.”  

For whatever reason it had never quite occurred to Gladiolus that while there were stories of Lysandra, there were likely also stories about himself.  “Just itching for a fight I guess.”  That certainly hadn’t been the reason that he’d gone to the bar that night, nor was it the reason he’d chosen to fight the one person that could have easily ended him, but telling someone he’d just met about his reasons wasn’t exactly high on the list of things he planned to do tonight.

The way those eyes were studying him once again sent something of a chill up Gladiolus’s spine, and a part of him was left to wonder if she could tell he was lying through his teeth.  All she said though was, “Well that’s an utterly stupid reason to pick a fight with anyone.”  

The two of them lapsed into a bout of silence, the air between them filled with the animals that lived on the Land Above.  Gladiolus studied her as she turned to survey the tranquil scene before her.  With all the stories and gossip that Gladiolus had heard about Lysandra, he hadn’t really expected her to be...this.  She was much more subdued than he thought she would be; the nights that Gladiolus was familiar with were filled with strong emotions and violent passion.  To see that the personification of the night was so completely opposite left Gladiolus feeling as though he were staring into one of the fun house mirrors the mortals used.  As a deer came to stop at the pond, Gladiolus began to think that perhaps it made sense that Lysandra was a near embodiment of peace, Gladiolus thought as he took in the quiet night scene presented to him.  

Slowly Gladiolus could feel that intrigue pulse through his body.  The desire to understand Night in a deeper way  bubbling underneath his skin.  “You-” Gladiolus cut himself off as he turned his gaze back to where Lysandra had been standing moments before.  He frowned as he realized that she had melted into the shadows, perhaps literally, between the time he’d looked away from her and now.  Gladiolus cursed.  The fact he had come to meet her here was complete chance, and considering it had taken so long for such a chance encounter to happen he was left with the sinking feeling that he may not see her again for another handful of years.  

It wasn’t that he was drawn to her in any sort of romantic way.  Gladiolus was very familiar with what love and attraction were like, and this was certainly not it.  No, the pull that he felt towards Lysandra was a mix between the desire to understand and something else that he couldn’t quite place.  It was something that left him feeling as though he had just come across someone who could quite possibly understand himself more than anyone else he’d known.  

Which was why she had been so quick to leave Gladiolus the night before.  

If a god was old enough -- if they had been around long enough to become one with the way the world worked, body and soul -- they could feel the slight changes in fate.  It was a tug in the pit of your stomach.  It was a warm tingle that ghosted up your arms.  It was the feeling of your caged heart ruffling its wings.  And this was what Lysandra had felt when she spoke with the God of Love.  She had seen the accepted sorrow in his eyes and was all too familiar with the feeling herself.  Many gods dealt with the trials and emotions of eternal life in their own ways, but to find someone who dealt with it in such a similar way was unsettling.  

Lysandra had heard many accounts of the God of Love, and from all she’d heard his personality seemed so wholly different from her own.  So when she spoke to him last night and found such glaring similarities she felt thrown -- tumbling down a mountain in an endless fall.  He was a mirror of another version of herself.  Where he was friendly with most of those he met, she did her best to separate herself from others.  Where he radiated warmth, she was cold and aloof.  If they were so opposite, why did she hear a whisper in the back of her mind chanting same, same, same.

“You’re awfully quiet over there.”  Lysandra looked up from the white cat lounging on her lap to look over at the goddess that had spoken.  

“I’m always quiet, Cindy” Lysandra replied, voice even.  

Cindy, the Goddess of the Forge, and one of Lysandra’s closest friends.  Realistically the two of them shouldn’t have become as close as they had; they were much too different from one another to connect.  Yet Cindy had been hellbent on becoming friends with Lysandra.  What Lysandra had done to be deserving of a friend so utterly selfless and sweet was beyond her, but she made it a point to thank fate for bringing them together.  Cindy was often the one person Lysandra went to when her mind became too muddled to make sense of herself.  Occasionally Cindy would give advice, but most times she would simply lend an ear to the moon haired goddess as she worked on her newest project.  

She answered the comment with a hum before asking, “What’s eatin’ at ya hun?”  

“Have you met Gladiolus before?” Lysandra asked, silver eyes flicking up to watch Cindy as she hammered away at a new weapon.

“God of Love, yeah?  Sure, he’s come in here plenty o’ times.  Seems friendly enough, why?”

“He picked a fight with Aranea apparently.”

“And that’s what’s botherin’ ya?”  No, that certainly was not what was bothering Lysandra, and she had a very good feeling that Cindy knew that as well.  But Cindy also knew that when Lysandra ended up caught in her own mind like this it was best to let her work through it on her own -- to not demand answers to problems that Lysandra was already attempting to sort through.  

“He seemed surprised to meet me,” Lysandra murmured, hands idly running through the cats fur.  

“Well ya do tend to hide from everyone.”

“I do not hide,” Lysandra said indigently.

“Fine, fine, avoid.  How’s that?”

Lysandra took a moment to think before nodding, white hair coming to cascade over her shoulders.  “Better.”

“Would ya be a doll and hand me the mallet over there?” Upon entering the forge, Lysandra had realized that Cindy was in the middle of creating a new sword.  From the detail she was putting into it Lysandra was left to believe that it was a custom order as opposed to one of her own personal creations.

Placing the white feline on the chair, Lysandra did as she was asked.  She watched, enthralled, as Cindy began hammering away at the metal, shaping it into what she needed.  The first time Lysandra had watched Cindy work she’d been more than a little envious. Cindy had the wonderful job of creating things every day and it was obvious how much she enjoyed doing said job.  Lysandra, on the other hand, was left to deal with the prejudice her domain faced not only by mortals but the gods as well.  

“For which god are you creating this?” Lysandra asked, peering over Cindy’s shoulder as she worked.  “It’s quite...intricate.”  The hilt alone was decorated with twining pieces of metal, molded to look like tangled rose vines.  Small, unopened buds were dotted along the vines as well with a singular, fully bloomed rose at the end of the hilt.  “It seems more decorative than something you would use for battle.”

“Towel.” Lysandra picked up the already dirtied cloth and handed it to her blonde haired friend who wasted no time in wiping her forehead.  “Don’t ask me, hun, I just make what I’m asked.  They should be comin’ t’ pick it up soon though if ya wanna ask them yourself.  Maybe after we can go grab somethin’ t’ eat?”  A rare, brilliant smile graced Lysandra’s features at the suggestion; it danced with unbridled happiness and gleamed with a childish freedom.  It had been much too long since she was able to spend leisurely time with Cindy as she typically had piles upon piles of requests to fill.  

“That sounds absolutely fantastic,” Lysandra replied.  So there Lysandra stayed, keeping her friend company and aiding the master blacksmith in any way she could.  Time passed swiftly, the air filled with an easy chatter between the two deities.  Once again Lysandra was reminded why she appreciated Cindy so much; it wasn’t easy for Lysandra to find someone she could converse with so seamlessly.

As the sun began to set, Lysandra excused herself from the forge, promising to be back once night had truly fallen.  

“We’ve been friends for over seven centuries, you don’t need t’ say anythin’.”  Lysandra smiled in turn, that warm feeling of being known filling her lungs, her heart.  With a small nod she pushed open the doors to the forge.  

As Lysandra was the Goddess of the Night, the gradual change of the reds and oranges to the navy blues and blacks was something of a sacred experience.  Nothing particularly special happened; there were no explosions of stars or changes of the wildlife, it was simply Night coming into being.  It was the gradient of the sky -- her brother embracing the her domain and she embracing her brothers.  It was the gentle blinking of stars coming out to speckle the sky.  It was the moon’s glow slowly beginning to kiss the land both Above and Below.  It was Lysandra bearing herself for all to see, silently pleading “Look at me.  See me.”  

Kissing the tip of a finger, Lysandra blew gently upon it, and a new shining star began its first ascent into the sky.  “Another gift, mother.”

As Lysandra returned to the forge, her steps slow as she attempted to compose herself once more, she was startled by a boom of laughter.  There was something faintly familiar about the voice, though Lysandra couldn’t quite figure out who it reminded her of.  As she pushed open the metal door, the bottom of it scraping against the stone floor, she was startled to see Cindy laughing along with Gladiolus.

“Oh, hun, you wan’ed t’ meet the person who requested the sword, right?  Well here he is!”

“Nice to meet you again, Lady Night.”

“I told you already that Lysandra was fine.”  

“Fine you are indeed.”  Gladiolus’s smile was roguish, his eyes glinting with restrained laughter.  

Lysandra turned her silver gaze back to Cindy, missing the slight disappointment that flashed across Gladiolus’s face at her dismissal.  “You could have simply told me it was him.”

“Oh, so you were talkin’ ‘bout this Gladiolus?” Lysandra’s eyes narrowed at the mischief that gleamed in Cindy’s otherwise innocent smile.

“What other Gladiolus would I have been speaking of?”

“You were talking about me?  Good things I hope,” Gladiolus said with a grin.

“Neither good nor bad,” Lysandra replied.  “Though I did tell her that you were dumb enough to pick a fight with Aranea.”

“Not sure why ya would’ve done that.  The gal’s quicker than a cheetah on skates; you had no chance.”  Cindy laughed as she shook her head in disbelief.  

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence Cin,” Gladiolus replied with a roll of his eyes.  The nickname didn’t go unnoticed by Lysandra, and not for the first time that night her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you two friends?”

“Indeed we are!” Cindy’s smile soon faded into one much more sheepish as she continued, “Sorry I didn’t mention anythin’ sweet pea, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it.”

The potentially lethal brew of self-consciousness, slight betrayal, and sadness dimmed in potency as Lysandra studied Cindy’s open expression.  It wasn’t required of Cindy to tell Lysandra everything about her life -- who she spent her free time with or whom else she called friend.  As Lysandra had only a few friends -- a number small enough to count on a single hand alone -- she had a tendency to become a little too attached, and often felt a pang of jealousy and inadequacy when she remembered that her friends also had a life she was not a part of.  It was a work in progress to wade through those feelings and attempt to finally come out on the other side, but she had at least made some progress in the last century.  It also helped that Cindy was beyond understanding of the matter, especially so after Lysandra had gotten up the nerve to bare herself to Cindy in that way and explain.

Lysandra was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of something curling around her legs.  Looking down she was greeted by the white cat from earlier.  “It’s fine, Cindy, nothing to worry about,” Lysandra replied, bending down to pick up the small creature.  

Gladiolus took a step closer to Lysandra, reaching a cautious hand out to stroke behind the cat’s ears.  “Who does she belong to?”

“Lysandra,” Cindy replied, her usual smile back to grace her features.

“She’s not mine,” Lysandra replied with a small shake of her head.  Cindy took a moment to simply stare at the white haired goddess, mouth hanging slightly agape.

“What do ya mean she ain’t yours?  Ya walked in here with her.” Cindy’s voice was incredulous as she stared at her friend.  

“I found her on my way over,” Lysandra said, voice and eyes innocent.

“And you just...picked her up?” Cindy asked.

“I like cats.” Gladiolus let out an unbridled laugh.  The sound of it could’ve rocked mountains, and the utter joy in it could have been bottled it was so tangible.

Lysandra studied him in that moment and came to the conclusion he was quite beautiful.  He was a mixture of fine lines and gentle edges.  His jaw was strong and dusted with stubble.  His eyes decorated by crow’s feet in the corners, giving away a life filled with smiles and laughter.  His body was honed in a way that could be noted even with the clothing he had on, and the way he held himself was reminiscent of a warrior.  Which was strange, Lysandra thought, because why would the God of Love need to be a warrior?

As Lysandra studied Gladiolus, she failed to realize a faint, barely there smile had become planted on her lips. And she also failed to witness the amusement that decorated Cindy’s features as the blacksmith watched her friend.  

“Gladiolus, would you like to join us for dinner?” Lysandra asked, eyes still studying the god’s features.  The question sobered Gladiolus, his eyes coming down to lock with Lysandra’s in surprise before glancing over at Cindy.

“Sure,” he replied once he seemed to assure himself he wasn’t imposing.  “You can call my Gladio, by the way.”

“Gladio...” Lysandra spoke the name, seeing how it tasted on her tongue.  “I like it,” she said, “very well. You don’t mind, right, Cindy?” Lysandra asked, turning to her friend.  Cindy herself looked fairly surprised as well by the sudden invitation that Lysandra had extended.  

“‘Course not!” Cindy replied. “Lemme just go change real quick.”  Just as Cindy was about to head into one of the numerous rooms in the forge, a small birdlike creature flew in through the window, it’s long tail reminiscent of a strand of ribbon. It was one of the  messenger’s of the gods, and attached to its foot was a small scroll. “Oh, now don’t tell me....” Cindy walked over to the bird and unrolled the piece of parchment.  The sigh that left Cindy was something of a giveaway as to what the scroll undoubtedly said. “Sorry ya’ll, a request from the King.  You two go on and eat, I’ll try an’ catch up if I finish in time.”

“Are you sure?” Lysandra asked, lips forming a slight frown.

“Yeah, this was suppose to be your guys’ night out together originally,” Gladio said.