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—You said a disappointed sky stuck with me through everything.
The transition from night to day and the other way around where both twilight existed; when it blurs every color including reality's transparent hue. Despite being shadowless heroes, the renowned spy can only see the stretching cerulean atmosphere that was below the sun's domain, staring back in the mirror. Bloodied hands which stop many person's entire worlds, for the sake of someone else's, become a sight that muddy clear glass. In stark contrast for gems that was overwhelming with facets and a shade that resembled something where clouds are found. In the dead of night, with dead people and a fake identity that immediately left with them. Another mission went as expected.
An entire sky devoid of sun was concealed into two irises that tell Handler what he's starting to crave; shadows that form because of something that glowed, he was responsible for everything. Heroic deeds, practiced deception. It was him, all him. But somehow, he never acknowledges just how disappointed his look was, and she respects that. One more time, she recognizes just how soft Operation Strix made any member of the Forger family and she hopes she can keep seeing it.
Codename: Twilight. Most likely the best agent in Westalis if not Ostania as well. Blond hair that is styled in a way that a specific situation will want it to, quite tall, has an athletic build, and eyes that always resembled something sad—not because it's blue but because of what its seen and what people see in it.
Current alias: Loid Forger. A psychiatrist and someone who adored his family. An undercover spy that is taking upon the façade of a picture perfect individual. A bit inhumane, perhaps, but an esper and an assassin thinks he's cool, which is honestly the only opinion he should care about.
—I told you how the ocean drowned in its own water.
Someone stares back, in another mirror, another mission, and a different kind of blood in his hands. Twilight saw another person, but his eyes gave away an endless blue water that he came to know was actually transparent. After all, now that Yor and Anya saw everything Loid Forger was never supposed to be. With a familiar color reflecting off from practically the whole room, his gaze turned into something of an opposite tint for the night.
How many stacks upon stacks of corpses will it take to reach the crack of dawn? He has nothing to his name, but there were several for the masked people that joined his targets to the graveyard, those who were one person if you really thought about it. For the first time, a kindred spirit flashes whenever he takes a life. Especially when he remembers just how exact of a hue Yor's eyes were to what kept a human alive. Something thicker than the water he bears.
Liquid bottled up into irises, starts to overflow. An enemy who dodged death but got injured by Twilight, lowered a gun that was supposed to have the spy's name written all over it, with a red sea pooling out of him—he wished the spy he saw crying that day would be able to go home unharmed.
The WISE agent walks down the path leading to the Forger household, his wife was gone again for the night, he pauses. Even more late than he is apparently. Loid thinks about the jobs they've been given, world peace always felt like it favored being saved by just one person, but he reminds himself that despite being the best for the job, there's also others that help with the little ones. That's right, those problems that didn't hold the world in line but still needs saving for the shared mission to keep a universe devoid of grass that was never supposed to be red.
Water adapts to the shape of anything, the moment he became a spy is the moment an ocean changed when certainty of peace wavered. Turning a complete opposite direction, as if going back because it somehow forgot to clean the world that is soiled with needless tragedies and unacceptable dry ground.
For such expectations even though normal civilians don't even ask for anything, it should be admired. It's not a crime to kill someone like them, no, not at all. Not when the dead are those who had corrupt motivation despite the killers being one to blame. The real happenings of an event? A genuine truth? All of it dissolved when the world decided spies and assassins were ever a good idea. It was. But the whole point of their existence was for people not to know of it in the first place, and that sacrifice is sadder than what they've given up to achieve that outcome—a normal lifestyle, names, identity, innocence.
It's for money, it's for country. It is, but it isn't. All they ever wanted was to protect a carefree life that wanders in the same ground they walk on even if it's separate paths, he's sure Garden was made for the same exact reason. And that's why... he could never hate Yor, no, to use such a strong word against someone stronger would be useless after all.
He laughs even though the hollow sound bounced off the house walls and made it fuller again. He goes to bed that night. A paranoid brain shuts down only when the front door opened and closed, hours later.
—Us with all our secrets, pretending to be normal.
Something familiar stains his body, he covers them with a coat and doesn't bother to give a second look when Yor should already know firsthand what happens in these type of situations. She does, but that somehow made her look scarier when he had opened the door to be welcomed by something that resembled death. His wife chides him as if he were a child the same as the one currently next to her as they bandaged his wounds. Anya first stared horrified at the bloodied clothes, although he informs her it wasn't his, she looked even more petrified.
Just because they know, doesn't mean he can become careless. A part of him hears the words and maybe unlike blood, this is one of the things he's more foreign with, yeah definitely. To trust someone beyond oneself, isn't something a spy should be known for, especially an already popular one. Twilight expected every worse scenario so far and this was not one of them. Because it's not a worse scenario at all. Even if things could go wrong, or time just ends, the day when this mission is completed will be one filled with happiness. Maybe not his own, but he can't really read minds or see the future to know of that. Bond and Anya could, still, it'll be interesting not to have that type of knowledge this time around.
Evaporation is the process in which liquid turns into gas. The sky cries and the ocean collects the water for an endless cycle. It's not sad, just dull. He won't be shedding tears, not yet, maybe someday a person will weep because of something extraordinary.
Good morning, or rather good evening, Twilight. Congratulations.
The procedure that required a blue atmosphere and an ocean, both of which can be seen in his eyes. Their future painted nothing but a beautiful landscape right now, him and Yor will have to protect it from their unpleasant jobs and maybe an overprotective little brother. After all, both of them know more than anyone—be it for someone else or for a specific reason, they stayed in this line of work and they're not gonna risk Yuri losing his.
They eat dinner and every aftermath of a mission onwards, the other three that are part of the Forger residence doesn't allow him to think of a made-up version that probably wouldn't have worked this time around. But at one point, they believed in the lies.
If Loid's fabricated past and this current lifestyle were what 'normal' was supposed to be, then there might've been a time where he latched onto the idea more than they ever did. The front cover of a picture perfect family that he had made, has finally been sold out from the public eye and no one was second guessing them, he's the first to fall for it. A story which plot was nowhere near fictional when his brain finally caught up to a heart that once belonged to a kid, who wished there was an end to any type of battles and always played pretend. That's what Operation Strix is for.
This view wasn't something temporary. This right here is going to last forever, one that outlived dreams. The sky, a grassy meadow, blood on the edge of short green blades, or a fluffy large sun, all represent something that was forged for the creators own gain, not Westalis or Ostania this time.
Everyone has a secret self they don't show to other people. Not to friends, not to lovers, not even to family. They hide who they are and what they want behind lies and painted smiles, and thus the world... maintains its thin veneer of peace. But when days turn to night, everything in-between blurs, what once might've been colors or façades. After all, twilight exists for that sole reason.