Footsteps approaching from both sides of a corridor, one soft and flurried whilst the other, long and relaxed. Too late a familiar presence is registered in their minds and the echoes of movement are silent. They stand, facing each other at a distance- enemies bathed in light. And hate, like burning sun, radiating from both razor pools of brown. There is a straightening of posture and a tilting of the nose as lips part to speak. But just as quickly are they rudely pursed lest any weakness slip out. And with bated breath, Fate waits whilst quiet words drench the air.

Then, time moves on. And the echoes resume; each looking past the other as the moment draws near. For a split second, they are side by side and one mask slips off. She stumbles slightly- the shock of being exposed too great but hastily recovers herself and quickens her pace. The tension is somewhat broken and they continue in strained silence as stillness gradually descends upon the corridor again; echoes growing fainter into the distance.

"Did you see that, " asks Fate to her companion in the shadows.

"You mean the hand that was outstretched? Yes. But does it really matter?"

"No.. you are right."

And with that, Fate turns to Sadness and motions for them to return to their land- the place between awake and sleep.