Change shifts around him like the rain glancing off his gilded skin, yet he remains unaltered. There are those who might find that troubling, but why change what has always worked so well to him? Oh, there had been times he had been annoyed (when his home had sunk into the seas, for instance), but he had moved swiftly past that. He is not one to dwell on that which he could not change.

It is quite possibly one of the only things about him that is genuinely admirable.

The rest, well… that all depends entirely on who you ask. And Darkling never bothered asking. He is content in his life in a way few ever are. Especially when he can so easily choose not to dwell on whatever has the potential to bother him.

Just as Pangea had returned, so too does he. He isn’t sure what it is about this desolate space that draws him, and neither does he have the patience to find out. He may not dwell on things he considers unpleasant, but that is likely because he bores far too easily. He has very little interest in lingering on the tedious.

Which is what brings him to the outskirts of Pangea just as swiftly as he had returned. He would have crossed that border too if something hadn’t caught his attention lingering in the shadows. Those shadows are a siren song to him, a call he has never been able to resist.

When he spies the woman, a faint smile tugs at his lips. A devilish glint lights his bottomless eyes as the shadows curl around him, looping in familiar arcs as a shadowy hand grips the pale strands of his mane. The eerily yellow eyes of the monkey stare at the mare in the same way its master does, though it makes no sound as it scrambles up Darklings neck to settle between his ears.

“Are you lost?” he asks softly, his voice a low rumble. His steps are muffled in the hush of early dawn as he closes the distance. “Or just tempting fate?”

you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation