(A/N: You have my compliments for getting past the 2 chaps of depression. Here is your third chap because aint no way I'm gonna let you readers off the hook.)
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The fire crackled, sending flickering embers into the inky darkness. The bonfire's glow was small, weak against the void that stretched infinitely in all directions.
And yet, despite its insignificance, it still burned, still flickered, stubborn against the emptiness.
Makima sat with one leg crossed over the other in perfect stillness. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, her golden-ringed eyes fixed on the shifting embers.
She was not affected by the fire's glow, nor did she find comfort in it. To her, it was merely another thing that existed, destined to burn and eventually fade.
Makima was composed, as she always was. Cold and calculated, as if even her breath was precisely controlled.
Across from her, Veilhem sat with his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, the tip of the blade pressed into the ground. His armor, tarnished and worn from countless battles, reflected the firelight in dull, glinting sparks.
A long silence stretched between them, neither needing to speak. And yet, Makima was the one who broke it first.
"Do you have dreams, Veilhem?"
The knight exhaled, a sound almost like amusement. "What kind of question is that?"
"Simple as it sounds." She tilted her head slightly. "Do you desire something?"
Veilhem was quiet for a moment, then let out a humorless chuckle. "That's not so easy to answer."
Makima's gaze didn't waver. "And why is that?"
The knight's gauntleted fingers curled slightly. "Because I don't remember the last time I had such thing anymore."
She blinked, waiting for him to elaborate.
"When you've lived long enough, you begin to lose sight of… such things." Veilhem muttered. His voice was steady, yet distant. "Desires, ambitions, dreams… They all rot away eventually. What remains is simply… this accursed existence."
Makima's lips curled faintly. "So you say you have no desire at all?"
Veilhem gestured toward the fire. "I still sit here, don't I?"
She nodded slightly as if that answer was expected. "Then you're not truly without desire."
He let out a short, weary huff. "And what is it that you think 'I' want?"
Makima closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, her voice as cool and measured as ever. "Something simple. Perhaps survival? Or a purpose? Even if you refuse to talk about it, the fact that you're still here chatting with me is proof that you do want something."
Veilhem fell silent, though his lips curled up a little bit.
Makima studied him for a moment, then turned her gaze back to the fire. The flames crackled softly, casting shifting shadows across his armor.
Then, at last, he sighed. "I suppose you're right about that."
Makima tilted her head slightly. She was unable to see the expression beneath his helm, but something heavy and resigned in his voice made her curious.
"I want to be freed from this shackle called fate. An end to this repeated suffering, where every choice leads back to the same hollow destination." He exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening over the hilt of his sword.
"Be it a good end or a bad one… it doesn't matter to me anymore. For one day, humanity shall prevail like it always does."
The knight turned his eyes to her. "And what of you, Makima? What do you desire?"
Makima's expression remained unreadable, her voice calm, almost indifferent. "Nothing."
Veilhem tilted his head. "Nothing?"
She nodded once. "I'm essentially a Devil. And I have no need for such simple desires."
Veilhem arched a brow beneath his helmet. "You speak like you aren't part of this world."
"I never was." She replied simply as if it was a fact.
"You carried yourself in a human form, and you said you don't have anything to do with the human world? Sounds pretty funny to me." The knight pointed that out.
For a moment, the only sound between them was the crackling of the fire, the distant howl of wind in the abyss.
Then, she continued, her voice as smooth and unshaken as ever.
"The human world is irrelevant to me. Its joys, its sorrows, its struggles… They are but fleeting moments in a cycle that repeats endlessly. Even if I had succeeded, even if I had shaped it to my will, what would have mattered?"
She shifted slightly, her eyes never leaving the fire.
"To me, humanity is like a film." She mused, her voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.
"One that I can observe the story unfold, understand their complex relationships, and even appreciate its structure."
A pause as she turned her gaze up from the crackling fire and stared into the gap in the knight helm.
"But I do not feel what they feel. I watch, and I learn, but I do not belong in their story."
Veilhem let the weight of her words settle between them, watching the flames flicker as he processed it in silence.
"Then why did you do it? Try to create Utopia, I mean." He asked, his tone lacking judgment, only curiosity.
Makima closed her eyes briefly as if considering whether to answer at all. When she spoke, there was no regret in her serene expression. "Because it was necessary."
Veilhem scoffed. "Necessary for what? If the world is irrelevant to you, and everything is fleeting as you described it, why go through the trouble?"
Makima's gaze remained fixed on the fire. "Control brings order. And order eliminates suffering. So in a way, it created a film that was worth watching."
Veilhem shook his head. "That's your flaw, thinking control brings order."
She turned to him, her gaze steady. "Without chaos, without freedom, people would not need to suffer. There would be no uncertainty and unnecessary pain. A perfect world is one where nothing is left to luck."
The knight exhaled, shaking his head. He adjusted his grip on his sword, fingers tapping idly against the hilt. "And let me guess. In this perfect little fantasy of yours, you were the one who decided what that 'right place' was?"
Makima nodded. "Who else? Freedom is an illusion they shackle themselves to, believing it gives them purpose."
Veilhem chuckled, though it was a hollow sound. "To you, people were nothing more than pieces on a board. Moving only when told. Living only as permitted."
She did not deny his dagger words. "Perhaps that was the way I was taught after reincarnating into this body, but I could never bring myself to disagree. Left to their own devices, they make mistakes. They falter and betray each other. They destroy what they deem beautiful. They desire things they cannot have, chasing after dreams that only lead them to ruin."
She spread her arms and continued. "But under my control, they would never have to experience that failure in their design."
Veilhem's laughter was low, almost bitter. "A life without failure is no life at all."
Makima glanced at him, her expression unchanged as she proposed a counter-argument. "Yet, how many wish to be free of suffering? How many would trade their freedom for certainty?"
Veilhem leaned forward slightly, letting the firelight cast shadows across his armor. "Let's assume that you're right about that. You strip them of their struggle and their hardship, but you also take away their joy. Their love. Their triumphs."
Makima exhaled, slow and measured. "Isn't that a small price to pay for a world without pain?"
Veilhem shook his head. "Not really. Because without pain, joy held no meaning. Without choice, life is nothing but an empty script. In simpler words, without a bad movie, how can you define a good one?"
The fire crackled between them, its embers rising into the dark.
Veilhem watched her carefully. "Tell me, Makima. After you achieve that desirable world, what comes after?"
A breeze stirred the flames, stretching the silence between them.
Makima did not answer because the Devil herself was unable to come up with a reasonable response.
Veilhem waited, then nodded knowingly. "Thought so. You couldn't even be sure of yourself."
Makima's fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her coat. "The point was not to find solace for myself, but to create a world without unnecessary pain."
Veilhem exhaled sharply. "Without unnecessary pain? And who decides what pain is necessary? You again?"
Makima did not look at him. "Someone has to."
His voice was quiet yet unyielding. "Even the gods themselves couldn't make that choice. And you, a Devil, think you could?"
He let the words hang in the air, his gaze unwavering. "You can deceive many, Makima, but not me. I have seen it firsthand. And I can say with certainty that you're merely imitating what you've observed in humans. Though sadly enough, it was only one-sidedly."
His grip on his sword tightened slightly. "There was a guy that told me every Utopia will eventually lead to Dystopia. Don't know if I'd ever remained sane till the day it happened."
Makima's gaze remained fixed on the fire, but something in her expression shifted.
It was so faint, so fleeting, it was nearly imperceptible, but Veilhem could see the agitation that flickered for a second before her expression turned back to normal.
"I don't need to know about that." She said, her voice as smooth as ever. "Understanding is irrelevant. What matters the most is the result."
Veilhem looked at her pitifully. "Spoken like a being that has never lived their own life. You craft your world like a sculptor chiseling marble, believing perfection is in its stillness. Every stagnant water is bound to be rotted, every secret will be unearthed one day. Such is the way of things."
Makima turned to him then, her expression turned into a frown. To her, he was completely opposing her vision with such nonsensical logic. "And what has that struggle ever brought mankind but suffering?"
Veilhem offered a single word. "Everything."
The fire between them crackled, casting long shadows against the cold ground.
"I have seen what humans do to each other." She said at last, her tone raised a bit from the usual. "They pray for salvation, yet reject the very order that would grant it to them. What value is there in such chaos?"
Veilhem leaned forward, letting the firelight glint off his armor. "Because in that chaos, they find the meaning of their life. And in their failures, they find the strength to rise again."
Makima studied him for a long moment before exhaling, almost amused. "Then tell me, knight, if you believe suffering has meaning—What of your own? You have fought and bled much more than anyone else. Has it given you any purpose?"
Veilhem went silent, probably because what Makima said hit a strange chord in him.
The flames cast their glow against his helmet, but they could not reach his eyes.
"I do not know." He admitted his shortcomings easier than she'd expected. "That's why I still seek the answer, am I not?"
Makima's gaze lingered on him, then slowly turned back to the fire. "You speak of seeking an answer. But have you ever considered that there may be none?"
Veilhem exhaled sharply, tilting his head toward her. "There is meaning in the search itself. Even if I never find the answer and am doomed to wander forever, at least it is enjoyable till the end."
Makima's lips curled ever so slightly. "An elegant sentiment. And yet, so very flawed."
He let out a dry chuckle. "And what is the flaw?"
She regarded him carefully, as though studying a creature she had never quite understood. "It is a contradiction. You reject suffering, yet you embrace it. You despise it, yet you refuse to let go."
Veilhem turned his gaze back to the fire, watching the way the flames flickered, ever-changing, never still. "Humanity is an equation of contradiction so in a way, I'm very human."
Makima hummed softly, as if amused by the thought. "Or perhaps, it is a flaw of you."
He countered. "Or simply something beyond your grasp?"
She did not answer immediately. Instead, she lifted a hand, palm up, letting a stray ember land upon her skin. It smoldered for a brief moment before dying out, leaving no mark.
"The world does not need contradiction. It needs order. Why you don't understand this is beyond me. Perhaps you should question your intellectual capability for failing you this hard." For the first time in her existence, she put down her pretense and straight up hurled insults at the knight in front of her, albeit in a very elegant way.
Though, Veilhem paid it no mind and simply shook his head. "No thanks. It is you who needs order. Because without it, you have nothing."
And for the first time, Makima fell completely silent.
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Veilhem let out a slow breath, resting his forearm against his knee as he gazed at the dying fire.
He hadn't meant to hurt her like this. Now, it had come back to prick his conscience. Not that he thought Makima would ever admit it if he had. But there it was, a rare moment of stillness from her, no retort poised on her tongue.
Veilhem sighed. "That was… harsh of me."
Makima's gaze shifted slightly, her expression unreadable as always. "It was the truth, wasn't it?"
"Maybe." He replied immediately like he had no idea how to apologize at all. "But that doesn't mean you deserved to hear it like that."
A shadow of a smirk played on her lips. "Apologizing now, Veilhem-san?"
He admitted. "Yes."
Makima hummed again, a quieter sound this time. She traced a finger idly along the dirt, as if lost in thought. "You misunderstand something, I do not need order for myself. I am beyond such things."
Veilhem tilted his head slightly. "Are you?"
She turned to him then, the faint glow of the fire reflecting in her eyes. "What else would I be?"
For once, he did not answer immediately. He simply studied her, watching the way she held herself, the way her fingers brushed against the ground as if tethering herself to the moment.
Finally, he spoke. "Someone who refuses to admit that they're lost."
Makima blinked. "Lost?"
"You talk about order as if it's the only thing that matters. To me, that just sounds like desperation." Veilhem exhaled, leaning back slightly.
"You don't belong anywhere, so you tried to build a world that revolved around you. A world where you could be somewhat… mattered."
Veilhem exhaled, pushing himself to his feet. His armor groaned with the movement, but he paid it no mind. He started rummaging for a moment before pulling out an Estus Flask, the last one he had.
Without a word, he extended it toward Makima.
She looked at it, then back at him. For a moment, he wondered if she'd refuse, but she simply took it, her fingers brushing against the cold metal as if testing its weight rather than truly accepting the offer.
With a quiet sigh, Veilhem plopped down beside her, the weight of his armor making a dull thud against the earth. The fire flickered, casting long shadows across the ground.
Then, without much thought, he reached out and lightly patted her head. "You have it rough."
Makima didn't react. She didn't pull away, nor did she turn to look at him. She simply sat there, still as ever, staring into the fire as if nothing had happened.
"...Not that I am any different."
This exclamation caused Makima to raise an eyebrow, waiting for his explanation.
Veilhem exhaled, his breath carrying the weight of something unspoken. He shook his head, the motion slow, deliberate. "You and I… we're both forgotten souls."
He sighed, turning his gaze toward the fire. "I have fought to break free from fate's design, and you have fought to impose your own. And yet, in the end, we are both prisoners of our ambitions. Isn't that hilarious?"
His voice was even, but there was something bitter beneath it.
"Your utopia never came to be. And I—" His eyes lingered on the weak flicker of the bonfire, his thoughts drifting somewhere distant. "am still here… breathing. What a morbid joke."
The flames crackled softly, filling the space between them, a space that stretched beyond time itself.
Makima studied him for a long moment, unreadable as ever. Then, at last, she spoke.
"If you were there, would you have opposed me?"
Veilhem didn't hesitate in his answer. "Without a doubt."
To his blunt response, a faint flicker of amusement touched her lips. "Then I suppose you should be grateful that I had failed."
Veilhem let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Seems to me you're worse off than I am."
She didn't care to argue with him anymore. Instead, she watched the fire with an almost distant expression, as if the flames carried an answer she had long sought but never found.
Then, without a warning, Makima leaned her head against his broad shoulder.
Veilhem was caught off guard by the simple gesture. But he did not move away, nor did he question it. Perhaps even someone like Makima needed something or someone to lean on, and he was not cold enough to push her away.
The silence between them stretched, but it no longer carried the weight of conflict or words left unsaid. Instead, it was something quieter, something neither of them had expected.
For the moment, they simply sat there, two lost souls who, for a fleeting moment, did not have to be alone. Because in this vast emptiness where nothing but dark remained, their silent companion was enough for both of them.
It was the story of when they first met each other.
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(A/N: Give me that thing of yours... the Power Stones and Reviews.)