Kuja sighs airily, letting his hand curl back around his midsection with the other. "Two sides of the same world, opposites in all ways, loathing each other from dusk til dawn. Yet, without each other, what would the one be? Where is the universe without the dust to hold it together? Where is the dust without the universe to spread it so far and wide?"

In all of this, he feels something lift, lightening his mood all the while dragging it down at the same time. It isn't just the world at large in his story - it's the story of his own life. But he isn't speaking it to Ardyn. In a way, the confession is to himself. There's something to be said for having lived the tale and recalling it. "They would be nothing at all, not even a memory."