This is a drabble about Sand Saref and her relationship with the Spirit.
Sand Saref was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
With the ugliness of Central City as her backdrop, it wasn't as difficult as one might think to achieve such status in the eyes of the Spirit, even if he was a womaniser. But that didn't mean that it was easy. She had ensnared him with the innocence of youth and held him with the artfulness of a woman, not that they hadn't both strayed...
There were other options, simpler girls, and none as good as Ellen. She was understanding and clever. She would cherish him, and always try to please him. Therein lay the problem. Her clean, fresh prettiness was a perfect indication of everything that was wrong underneath. As soon as he looked away from her, it was as though Dr Dolan had never existed to him.
Sand, on the other hand, snaked through his veins like a sickness. Her never ending search for beauty to match her own had carried her all across Europe. The Spirit could have told her that there was no trinket that was her equal; sparkle as they may, no diamond in the world had Sand's passion, her drive. He didn't try and tell her; she wouldn't have listened.
It didn't matter that she was a criminal and he was a good guy, the good guy.
The Spirit coveted Sand.
He was more loyal to her than he had been any other woman, in thought if not in deed. She was the most tempting treasure of all, with skin like burnished gold and eyes like onyx, and she knew it. They would always be driven by their taste for shiny things – nothing shone brighter than Sand Saref in his heart, however dim and full it may have been.
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