"Ydem."
The long red hair was soft and silky in the hands of the Fire. As Ydem moved away from him, her red hair flowed free from the fiery red fingers of the Fire.
"Ydem, where do you want to go?" asked the figure of Fire softly.
"Go away."
"Ydem."
"I said, go away," the figure rejected the playful hand of the Fire who tried to reach her waist.
The Fire looked at the figure warmly. As the figure tucked her red hair and wore a thin, opaque veil, the Flame chuckled. "Can I not greet my son this morning?"
"You won't be able to leave after greeting him. He will force you to stay. And, I told you, he is not your son," the figure grabbed a lantern and lit it with a snap of her fingers.
"Of course he is my son. We both created him together," The Fire returned to lie down on the bed.
"Go away," The red flame heard the melodious voice driving him away again. But he could see a gentle smile on such a beautiful face of her.
