GORELI/MIRON (Elevate)

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If Grief was Fire, then Sasha is pure water. The cold water of the Northern Seas. Inaccessible, disciplined, and dry.
But is everything as simple as it seems to you?
Far from it.
Being able to hide your feelings sometimes leads to too serious consequences. Overload.
"I do love her, Zhenya," Sasha said in a calm, emotionless tone. "But I don't know how to show it. I can't go back to being the sweet, cheerful girl I once was. It's dangerous."
Sasha tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and looked into Zhenya's restless eyes.
“I’m afraid she won’t accept me. That she’ll want to change me.”
She still thinks that I hate her.
A thin stream of tears ran down her pale skin.

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It was the dead of night. Grief, her brown eyes squinting painfully in the bright firelight, was crouched in the forest. Her purple hair was scattered over her shoulders, escaping unruly from her hastily pulled-back ponytail.
She rose slowly, took a bucket of water, and calmly extinguished the fire.
“Just like Sasha and I...” she said into thin air, watching the last embers hiss.
Her lively, cheerful, and sometimes brazen nature was a Fire—something that neither iron discipline, nor the group's leader, Zhenya, nor anyone else, could extinguish.
But Sasha could.
Her icy gaze easily calmed Gore, no matter how eccentric she behaved.
And this fascinated Gore.
Try to get closer? Such a thought, alas, crossed her mind. But they weren't even friends.
"She hates me. And I love her. It's wonderful and terrible at the same time."