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Of Chaos and Order, life and death, they are balance and they are equal. One cannot exist without the other, and with this knowledge they are content. One would think their competitive nature is of hate or envy, but truthfully it is of understanding and the willingness to work together without explicitly stating such requests.
Chaos, a straightforward notion in hindsight, one would think, but its complexity knows no easy path for it has become known as such. It is the very breath of every living thing for it is life itself. There is no control in which the living go about, in how they adapt and change. There is not enough consistency to predict their choices no matter how long they go on for.
Order, the uniform end, the constant and never changing. It is the after of the last breath, for it is expected and it is predictable. No matter the cruel circumstances, it knows what is to be done after Chaos has decided that one more is to rest from his game.
They work as one, but in such an opposing way from one another you may think of it as reluctant. But no, for they’re old friends, knowing of their duties and only the most respect for their bets.
Chaos, to Order’s knowing mind, is the one to always come forward with the proposals; to take their minds off of grueling work and to look forward to the endless marble maze they’ve constructed together after years of hardship. The wagers, most times, end up looking like this:
For when life is faced with a new challenge Chaos speaks up, “I bet they’d find a solution.”
“Oh?” Order would already know the answer, but the indulgence is half the fun itself, “And what kind of solution, exactly?”
“One of which they don’t fall into your hands, of course, the game the same as always. You know how it goes.” Chaos would smile, a grin of crooked, pointed teeth, expressing his joy more than anything.
“The winner gets all again, then?”
“Need it be said?”
“Who knows, you may have changed your mind between the last decade.”
And then so on, the chase starts, each solution different and with that the victor. There is no sore loser between the two, only predictions and excitement as another life lives or perishes.
It is rare, but others are brought into their game of cat and mouse, as they act the part of the latter while Chaos and Order pick and choose the rules. It is all in good fun, most days, as a select few are good sports of the act, but others do not take too kindly to their needless disruption.
Deceit and Truth, for example, have never been a fan of their antics. There was never a double meaning behind the games they played, so how was it truly fun, Deceit would tell them.
And for Truth, Chaos and Order’s straightforwardness was always expected but never truly appreciated by them. They’d grown too accustomed to their own brother’s constant lying that doubt is the only lens they see the world through. They would, in turn, agree with their brother, that there was no fun to be had.
Chaos and Order never needed another reason to pursue these challenges, as the event itself was thrilling enough. Their relationship has been straightforward for as long as they could remember, and that was the one thing they wouldn’t change for anything.