Foreplay
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On occasion, he'll discard the sharp blade of his scythe. Those same days, she'll toss her kunai into the wall and leave them there. The ring is always his garden, where electricity thrums through the air and plants shudder in anticipation.
Simultaneously, they'll draw into a crouch, their coats already discarded onto waiting branches. She'll be grinning, just as savage and excited as always. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.
There's no referee to keep them from killing each other, but it's just how they like it. It's personal, this thing of theirs.
In a flash, she'll get up in his face. Her fists will fly out, slamming at every opening she can find. He'll smirk and dodge, returning her attacks with heavy punches of his own.
Ribs, jaws, arms - nothing is exempt. The fight lasts only ten minutes, but it always feels like an eternity. Bruises will numb their bodies, but they'll still smirk at each other.
Today, his lip is split, and bruises are lined up his arm. Slowly, he reaches over and traces her black eye. She grins at him with bloody teeth.
"Shall we go again?"
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