Look at this. Just sit a while and look at it. It’s so good, it’s hypnotic! I cannot give it enough praise. Look at that phenomenal shade of blue on Strife, and the details on War’s decorations, his magnificent fur cloak and Strife’s smooth, gunslinger’s outfit. Look at how big and fuzzy and warm War is, and how sharp, detailed and cool Strife is. I love War’s fingerless glove and his sturdy hand with well-shaped nails. I love it that Strife has a third eye, a trait of his Riot form. Note the Horsemen symbol on War’s medallion and Strife’s belt, the frickin’ runes on the barrels of Strife’s pistols, and the sting-shaped ends of his scarf. Take a bit to appreciate how all War’s jewelry is round, and all Strife’s, angular. And the subtle inversion in the golden glow of Strife’s eyes and the chilly blue of War’s.
It’s a masterpiece. A thousand words would not suffice.
The actual quote in the original form, with more text captured for context, can be found under the break. What follows here is a version I altered to make it more general and gender-neutral, because I was especially impressed and affected by the sentiments as they apply to my current obsession with War and Strife from Darksiders. I also cast one part as verse, because that’s how it sounded. Beautiful!
If all people loved their spouses as I love mine, we would be a useless lot. Or maybe… the world would know peace. Maybe the wars would end and the strife would cease as we centered our lives on loving, and being loved. … I know the novelty will wear off, and life will intrude before long. But it is not the newness of love, the newness of us, that has captured me. It is the opposite! It is as if we always were and always will be, as though our love and our lives sprang from the same source and will return to that source in the end, intertwined and indistinguishable. We are ancient. Prehistoric! And predestined.
War and Strife agreed to leave the past behind, but there’s one memory from the time of the Nephilim invasion of Eden that they both hesitate to give up.
It’s been more than 10 years since a game (or anything else, for that matter) inspired me enough to write fic for it and I’m incredibly glad I stumbled upon Darksiders. I’m even more delighted, and still can’t quite believe, that my old friend and partner in crime, Anjian, is willing to row this tiny canoe with me. ♥
Writing this story has been a wonderful, unforgettable experience. I hope it will make someone else happy too. ♥
War and Strife agreed to leave the past behind, but there’s one memory from the time of the Nephilim invasion of Eden that they both hesitate to give up.
Click-click-click-click. I’m pulling the trigger, but the chambers are empty. My ungloved hand is too small to wrap around the stock. It’s slick. Why is it slick?
Still carry that blade-oil?
Oil and wax.
Definitely oil.
I moan, half-awake now. Damn, that was a hot dream. I gallop after it. Oh, yeah. I mounted his lap and we maneuvered into position.
If something interrupts us this time, I swear…
I know. He laughed. You’ll come first. I promise.
My eyes shoot open, heart racing. It all comes back to me. Oh, God.
The following two days, as you can imagine, passed in anything but boredom. In the armory, we discovered an assortment of discarded angelic weapons as diverse as demon bloodlines. They were in various states of disrepair, but usable for training. War mostly let the gauntlet lie and practiced with one hand. Even after decades of swinging Chaoseater (which weighs almost as much as me) with his right arm, his left shoulder is still larger. Not a difference one could notice under his armor, but we let that lie too.
I taught him a few of my dirty tricks, including the one I’d used to bring him down in our first match—though I never confessed that I’d used my magics against him as well, and I never intend to. He wrinkled his nose and swore he’d never sink as low as to fight that way, but we practiced it anyway, in the name of “expanding his acumen”. In return, he taught me a selection of power moves that I could adapt to short blades, and would soon find a use for in the close quarters combat of a crowded battlefield.
We’d dance till our bodies glistened with sweat and every muscle burned with exertion. Then we’d bathe in the pool. And then we’d make love.
