Incantation Fusion...

The room dimmed and darkened until all she could see was the vague outline of his face against the pale yellow candlelight slowly shrinking on the walls. She could just make out a dark curl bouncing against the agitated twitch in his jaw, proving his profound frustration at her hesitancy.
He knew he did not have to check his countenance, but her face was bathed in the soft glow, her eyes illuminated and telling. He knew her so well and there was nothing to accomplish but the end of a long, brooding stare by which fate was contemplated.
They often did this-this unsettling communion of minds, savoring hour after hour alone and even more vigorously relishing each minute together, the two separate entities, as they were, converging, each bearing their own manner with such intensity that a whole was forged. And that was how they sat, more one than two, more together than apart. Thus, words were unnecessary-their silence was practical.
Practical magic: a common term, but a common occurrence? Think harder, reader, before remarking. There is infatuation, there is romance, there is passion, there is true love, there’s that swooping force deep inside when the body is caressed, when lips touch, when breath is shared, but this was not giddy, nor whimsical, nor wild, or bedazzled. Instead, it was a marked union of kindred spirit and soulmate, each heart always reaching out to the other, always belonging to the not-self, even if the mind was contained to one for a spell. A spell. This enchantment was no trickery, but a comprehensive grasp on experiences, habits, cognition, and emotion. The latter was never out of hand or allowed to run rampant as it sat unreservedly in the possession of the other. They were not puzzle pieces, side by side, but metallurgically fitted. And in that bond they waited.

She finally moved her pawn up two squares. “Bloody mother of rioting goddesses, it’s about bloody time!” he gushed, exasperated. “Does a pawn really require such deliberation?!” She smiled deviously…