They loved just her, and she loved them. Both of them. Nothing in love stays easy. One was scorching fire, the other a cradle of immovable stone. The stone had her heart. He was solid. He was home. But the fire had her longing, her spirit. He was adventure. She didn’t put much stock into astrology, but she knew this must be her twin-ness shining through, pulling her between the two. Between her resolute Aquarius and her always acquiring Archer.
When she thought, finally, her future was set before her in stone, in him, an arrow’s wound in her chest she believed long ago healed, began to fester and burn in the most dire way. And with this reopened connection came a struggle and pain of the acutest kind. Secrets, rendezvous, fleeting words and meetings shared with the fire fueled, within her, a molten tension ever growing. She was dangling her feet over the edge of an active volcano. She was throwing lit matches into its mouth. It’s not that she didn’t care. It’s that she was too selfish to do a thing about it. The threat would not register. Nothing changed her destructive course. Not even the instinct to save her cradle, her darling stone, from all pain and spare the heart he shielded, the heart that was hers.
The fire began to change her. He damaged her insides; he infected her mind, and coiled in her stomach always asking for more heat. Always calling for the flame.
She realized her mistake. The fire would never be tamed. It would never be able to hold her to it as the stone did when he shaped himself to her form. Fire could not be depended upon, it could not be hers. The fire would consume and destroy. It’s all he ever knew how to do.
The stone was wary and aware of the fire but ignorant of the flame it had implanted in his only love. All he saw of her any longer was a shell, for indeed that was all that was left. And this killed him. He was not impermeable, though solid. The lava that the girl had unknowingly coaxed from the innards of the molten mountain had risen slowly and begun to coat her hollow corpse and it’s stone cradle. The liquid fire seeped through to the heart he held and cooked it. It became rock like the rest of him. No longer was there any place in him for her.
And she would have cared, had she not already cast her heart into the flame.