No dragon could determine what Elotsh and Rutilus guarded. They were twins that worked at the Nexus Corporation. Often they were called Pride and Lust, but no dragon knew why. All day and night they stood guard outside of large, ornate bone doors. Not that the doors needed guarding. All dragons avoided that door. The hallway it was in was always cold and dark. Even though the twins never left, and never talked to anyone, they knew everyone’s name. It was a fun prank in the Nexus Organization to send new recruits to offer lunch to Pride and Lust. The latest members always came back spooked. As long as this didn’t interfere with the schedule, Nexus didn’t care. She was one of the few dragons not afraid of Lust or Pride. They didn’t obey her, but they seemed to respect her. There was a rumor that they weren’t dragons, but actually demons that looked liked dragons. No one was brave enough to ask Elotsh or Rutilus for the truth.

Elotsh and Rutilus.

Lust and pride. Pride and lust. They intertwine in strange yet oddly sensible ways. Pride is a texture, while lust is a color. Allow time for explantion.

Lust is the deep, inexcusable shade of the rose that you present to her. It's the color of her perfectly filed nails as she plucks it from your hand. It's the color painted onto her lips when she smiles. Lust is the whirl of dark brilliance that is her dress when she turns towards you, beckoning you to follow her away from the harsh light of the dance floor and into the welcome depths of somewhere secluded. Lust is the color that you swear you can see in her eyes in the moments when she thinks you're not looking at her. I do not have to name the color. If you are aquainted with lust, you will understand.

Pride is different, although no less infectious. Pride is the texture of freshly curled hair that bounces around shoulders in shining ringlets and the placid smugness that accompanies running one's freshly-manicured nails along the near-buried seam of a fur coat. Pride is the texture of an unnamable trinket, the culmination of every precious metal, every jewel desperately pulled from the earth.

Pride and lust are very different in presentation and in nature, yet chillingly similar in effect. Both infect. Both harm. Both can ruin, although pride's poison is slow while lust's is often unbearably quick. Both often work in silence. And, as a matter of fact, both work at an establishment known as the Nexus Organization and both guard a rather imposing set of double doors.

It's hardly as if the doors need guarding. Even without the unsettling presence of the twin dragons (use the term lightly, it's entirely unconfirmed), the hallway is barren in a distinctly unapologetic way. The marble floor is beautiful, in a lifeless, technical sense, but it sucks the warmth out of tails, feet and dragging wingtips. There is only ever just enough light to allow a diurnal entity to make out the looming shape of the double doors and a few of the hazy details of their architecture. Most dragons wouldn't set foot in the hallway without significant financial compensation. However, the Nexus Organization and the leader whose name it bears, have other ideas.

New recruits are often sent down the seemingly endless length of the hallway to deliver lunch to the guards. In recent times, one fainted, one turned around and ran, most came back thoroughly nervous and oddly paranoid and one didn't come back at all. His whereabouts are still unknown and the details surrounding his disappearance are quite unclear.

There was already a substantial amount of rumors circulating around and the disappearance only added fuel to the already blazing fire. Were the guards really Tundras? They seemed awfully big. Were they even dragons at all? The Organization's higher-ups haven't offered any answers and everyone is far too wary to ask the guards, themselves. After all, no one wants to be the next disappearance or the absent victim of the next batch of rumors.

Elotsh raised his head high, and gazed around himself. A sleazy smile broke under his skull mask, as he slowly mouthed the numbers as he counted the bodies around himself. 'One, two, three, four...'

Elotsh finished with a smirk as he rose to his feet and stretched luxuriously. With a chuckle, he kicked the head of a downed Skydancer next to his foot, it's head lolling sickeningly with no resistance. "Weak." He kicked the body again, and spat on its face as he disdainfully stepped over the mound of flesh. "Well, I have places to be. Unlike you I suppose."

…

The fetid landscape hissed and gurgled around him as Elotsh sneered and stepped around the ***** blisters on the path, heading towards the obsidian castle that left the dangerous terrain in deep shadows. It was seemingly the only thing magnificent in this revolting place. The only thing standing noble, leering over the ugly creatures that weren't worth the crimson dirt they hovelled on.

He had better places to be than this cesspool, yet here he was. Still, a castle wasn't something that one couldn't respect. It was intimidating, powerful, and it and it's inhabitants raised above the commonwealth that shuddered and lived their lives under their clear superiors- like himself.

Yet, there was also Darker. Darker, the lord of the castle who wouldn't even raise a claw to those who thrust him into Sornieth.

Rutilus, his brother twin. Lanky, and lusting after what he couldn't have. Always chasing after the beautiful dragons and dragonesses. Still he wasn't complaining; anything that allowed him to show his brother their own shortcomings was something worth having around.

"Brother." Speaking of his brother...

Elotsh shook his lustrous mane out, and turned to his brother; a haughty impatience blooming through him. Really, was something so important, that he needed to bothered right this instant? The castle's staff was supposed to have some competency, even if he had some trouble seeing it.

"Yes?" Elotsh sneered, raising a single condescending eyebrow. He was ready to leave his brother in his wake after only a moment of pause, but to his annoyance, he was too slow to stop his twin's nasally voice from grating against his ears.


"Lord Darker requests... you." There was only a moment's pause before the 'you', but it was enough for him to turn a smug sneer on his sibling. Of course Darker would request him over Rutilus, his brother barely had anything useful to show for being a demon. He was more fit for being made into one of Lord Darker's favorite treats, than being his subordinate.

"Of course." With a high-and-mighty swish of his tail across his brother's face, Elotsh turned on his heel towards his lord's throne room. Whatever the disgrace of a demon wanted, there was no doubt he would get it done.

It would probably just be a waste of his precious time anyway, like usual.

Elotsh revels in the glossy darkness of his fur, the sharp glimmer of his fangs. He admires the dance of the trident as it erases the existence of a foolish escapee. His footsteps are light and his mind is carefree, for he knows that no dragon can ever best him. The sin he carries is contagious; it spreads into the minds of his chosen, infecting them with a foolish sense of grandeur and overconfidence. It leads them to battles they cannot win and fates they cannot escape. Sometimes, in their final moments, they curse his name, but it is not his fault – he only opened the door.

He is pride.

Rutilus watches her as she dances on stars and offers her roses sweet like honey. She sips wine as red as blood, and a look is shared that belongs to only them. The sweetness is intoxicating. It seeps into every pore, a craving that makes the heart beat faster and world seem brighter. She would follow him to the end of the world, for he is the both the sun and moon. But he is not love, and should not be mistaken for such a pure emotion. Like so many others, he will cast her aside.

He is lust.

They are present in all worlds in one form or another. In this one, they take the form of dragons. Somehow, it is fitting. The glint of crimson eyes is commonplace here, as is the grinding of sharp teeth and the cutting edges of horns. There is something off about them, to be sure, but only an insane dragon would utter the forbidden truth: demons.

There is a dangerous allure to the two, something that draws you in and simultaneously tells you that something is very, very wrong. One glowers with a brandished weapon, while the other beckons with an endearing smile and seductive eyes. Like objects being drawn into a black hole, there is no escape from the cosmos within those eyes and the destruction once pulled in.

They are two sides of the same coin, two sins to tempt the heart and darken the spirit. They are different and yet the same, twins of unholy existence. But although they stain the world with their presence, the universe could not exist without them – for without temptation, would free will truly exist?

My tongue tastes every word I speak, relishing in the look of fear and allure that meets my eyes, "You came quite a long way to be here now. Say, what brings you to this door?"

The dragoness ducks her head and inches backwards, her feathered crest spread in panic.

Fool. My steps are the rhythm that your heart beats to. My voice is the aphrodisiac that makes you forget why you came here. My eyes are the burning embers that stir up the all-devouring passion hidden deep inside your mind.

You already realised that, didn't you?

"But why would you turn away now?", I ask quietly. "When you already walked all the way here…"

A dark shape stands behind her. She couldn't see it in the twilight even if she turned around, but I always know where my brother is. Always.

.

.

.

"What a surprise. You thought you could get past us, hm? Past me? How… adorable."

I show just a flash of my fanged grin as she swivels around, eyes wide with fear. Laughter bubbles up my throat and escapes into the air, the sound echoing through the dark corridor.

What a joke! Someone like her, trying to get through the doors?

"Poor, insolent creature!", I call out, still laughing. There's already the tip of a blade pressed to her throat; my blade. I am the fastest warrior here, by far. Who could ever hope that they could get past me? I am the glorious terror of hell; I see all that happens in this castle and beyond! Who could hope to best me? I am the terrible fury that you pray to and the shining, magnificent power that you bend your knee to!

What do I not have?

"Mercy," I snarl quietly, more to myself, as I thrust the trident forward.

"What a mess, brother," I hear as she falls. I smirk and nudge the cooling body with the tip of the blade. Blood pools on the dark floor. "I'll gladly leave the cleaning up to you."

Okay so obviously I had to pick Elotsh and Rutilus together. Not gonna lie, they give me the vibe like they are the two guards, sitting and the entrance to hell. And the will judge you for your deeds. I really like the combination of the polished trident with the rags. Really suits their whole guard/warrior vibe!