They were a good pair, in an odd way, though others might disagree. Those that would argue might say that they should not be together. That the two should never be near each other, and wonder why they are together anyway. Those who think they are a good pair on the other hand, know better. Opposites attract, they might say. Though they didn't look it at first glance, the boys were inhumanly different from everyone else. Vin was the one on the right. His left eye was black while the other was red. He wore tight black leather pants, a ripped fish net tank black fingerless gloves and a headband around his thin, only somewhat long white hair. He was the scarier of the two, delighted with pain and suffering, he most often caused it. Ing however, was poles apart. Dressed in varying sizes and lengths of skirts, he preferred to be mistaken for a girl. With a black right eye and the other a light pink, long white hair and the beautiful feminine face that the twins shared, it was easy to take him for a female. Ing's skirts were usually knee-length and straight, without any poof to them. He wore matching tops that were usually long-sleeved with lacy, bell-like cuffs. The softer of the two, Ing took joy in skipping through meadows and petting puppies. But, Vin and Ing had... interesting gifts. Ing could cause mass destruction of any type. He could create the equivalent of natural disasters, nuclear wars, and things beyond your imagination. While Vin could raise the dead, heal the sick and wounded, and cause plants to grow from anywhere. No one knows why the two are still together. Ing would never use his gifts if it weren't for Vin forcing him, and Vin would never use his if it weren't for Ing's incessant begging and whining.


Mismatched eyes bore into one another. One gloved hand curled tighter around his opposite’s neck, nails digging into the top of his spine. His face turned red from lack of oxygen. Another hand joined it’s slowly constricting brother. Frantic legs kicked the air as he was hefted off the ground with more ease than should be possible.
“Do it.” Vin’s deep, malicious voice was like rocks grading on concrete. His impatience was obvious, as was his growing vexation. His contrasted eyes seemed as if they would burst into flames at any moment. His ire only seemed to rise as his thin white bangs fell into his face. Ing, however, stayed calm. That delighted, almost intoxicated-looking smile which was always on his face hadn’t left, even with his gradually decreasing supply of oxygen. Though, I must admit that the smile seemed a bit mocking now.
“Oh Vin,” The perky boy gave a raspy laugh. His own light-hearted voice was strained as it struggled to get past his crushed voice-box. “You’ll never get it will you? I will never give into you.” He giggled like a fool at a funny joke. Vin, however, did not seem to find this funny. One hand left Ing’s neck and balled into a fist as the demon’s side. There was a spark of madness in his red eye. He needed it, he needed it bad. Reeling his hand back, he threw it forward into Ing’s stomach. Being a master of pain, he knew just where to hit.
The air left Ing’s lungs in a gush, along with a splatter of blood. Blessed with inhuman strength, Vin could do far greater damage than your average thug. Coughing as much as his constricted windpipe would allow, the cheery of the two curled his knees up to lessen the pain. Still, that silly grin did not leave his face. If Vin didn’t know better, he’d have thought that it was a permanent affixture.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Ing gasped, his tough-guy act a bit hindered by the pain in his voice. Vin roared and dropped his alter-ego, pulling his foot back and then forward to contact with Ing’s stomach. Again, the air rushed out of his lungs and he was flung backwards by the kick, smacking into a wall. Head bouncing off the bricks with a sickening crack, Ing slid down to the street, his knees spreading out at angles as he came to rest on the ground. His smile now all but gone, the boy looked up at Vin, his mismatched eyes pleading as blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth.
“Brother—“ He began, but Vin spat between the cheerful one’s spread knees, the spittle hissing as it met the ground.
“Don’t associate yourself with me,” Vin stalked towards his counterpart, his alter-ego, his twin, a malicious gleam in his blood red eye. “You’ll bend to my will yet…”