Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me [Demian, Any]

[Tarnished]

We were young and wild and free,

fightin' in a love we couldn't leave.

I find this all very funny, you know.

Demian summoning me, Demian taking the throne, Demian promoting me to be his Second in Command; I do hope he knows what he’s doing because when it comes to politics, I’m like a sledgehammer. I aim to please no one but myself. That’s why I politely declined when he asked me to rule alongside him, because it wouldn’t take long before they came with their torches and their pitchforks. I would have been forced to gobble them all up—the wicked, cannibal King of the Valley, they’d call me. I would've been the new Elite, everyone would've been after my head.  No one’s got time for that.

But I digress.

I’m bad at politics, I don’t care for them; I’m neither tactful nor polite unless I try hard enough and even then, there’s always a small threat of violence thrown somewhere in the mix. That’s what you get when you let a little boy run wild through a jungle and he’s raised by warrior women. So, as I am walking along, imagine my surprise when I glance up and notice there’s a very pregnant mare waddling up near the end of my trail that I’ve been ‘patrolling.’ She might be an ally, she might be a new recruit—I want nothing to do with her, at any rate, but I cannot ignore her now without her mentioning it to someone else.

Imagine how that might reflect back on the kingdom.

I sigh before turning to dust.

A breeze sweeps me along through the trees and I pull myself together some feet off the trail so I can approach her from behind—to the right, so I’m not in her blind spot and she can see me coming through the trees. I’m noisy enough, anyways; when I’m not shifting to fit between trees and flit over leaves, I’m quite loud. A Percheron cross isn’t very stealthy, you see. I stop at what I think is a respectable enough distance away, but I’ve never been the best at personal boundaries, and I cock my head to the side to get a better look at her. Seems harmless enough. Not that I would attack a pregnant mare either way, mind.

I’ll leave that up to the ‘real’ evils of the world.

“Ally, recruit… or other?” I ask solemnly, hoping she gets the hint that I’d rather get straight to the point.

tarnished

vanquish x nocturnal

Even on the way down, even on the way down.