A Demon Chooses, A Servant Obeys

[Observing Future]

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Self-Actualization: An understanding that I could be better. Strange how I did not ponder this until Meranthe, as I had glutted upon my delights. Wealth and splendors to hoard within my abode. Things I bought with me on this trip, least most of I had. For I enjoy with such giddiness staring at the many little trophies I'd scavenged over the years. And yet something is missing, I cannot fathom what it is. It is an itch, there are many that serve my Lord, yet all serve with their own interests in mind. Be it this hunt they oh so love to dwell upon, or the potential powers his blessings may bestow upon them. It is only I, who can achieve the most truest of devotion, to enact his will to the truest of my capabilities. I shall be the sharpest of blades, the cleverest of quills, the cruelest of tyrants or the most noxious of venom. For I need no boons, I need no power, I need nothing.

Nothing more than the satisfaction of making his Will into Reality. For he is My Lord, and his Will, is my Desire.

Fear: I used to care little for such a concept. I found it interesting, yet little more than another facet of mortality that I could not fathom. Could not fathom. Yet it is a strange thing to not want to die, to feel the hairs upon one's hide stand up straight. It gives an abrupt weight to the struggle, the sound of blood pumping through the veins. It's exciting, and yet I detest it so. Fear, leads to hesitance. To think more than to act. Yet I have seen it guide, like little Desnus, cowering and trembling. Like the Knight, that made me fall into a fading memory. I ponder, if the fear is why I live. A burning, wretched desire. I could not simply die, not without solidifying myself before My Lord as something- no, someone of worth. It makes my body crawl and writhe, it leaves me breathless, and oh so delightfully enraged! I cannot let it get the best of me, I cannot let it control me. 

There are no uses of a coward to My Lord, and his Will, is my Desire.

Pride: How many times have I told a mortal 'good job, proud of you', in the most sarcastic and uncaring of fashions. An attempt at such positive reinforcement that means little in the grand scheme of things. Yet I recollect my mortal and his plans, how much little insipid detail he's put into such a passion project. I ponder the potions my other has created and her dedication to my Lord which matches even mine- coupled with her seeking to become more than her frail mortal body is. I stare upon the malicious grin of the fish and its eager little plans as it preps boldly in preparation, how the other little woman endures time and time again to snake her fingers and methods into things and places she's no right to be! From the little bird that fought oh so delectably hard to save me, when I expected no such amusing antics, to the newest I've plucked to do my bidding and his rather calm, collected demeanor. I feel a semblance of... Giddiness, excitement. Pride in their little accomplishments, some from my own nudging, others of their own accord, and one from my spiritual presence. It is a sensation that I am uncertain of how to digest, something that worms its way into my being. I want them to succeed, and a piece of me detests that there's a genuineness to such an emotion.

I am uncertain of how I can turn this to my advantage, or how it can serve him. If it has no use than mayhap I shall seek to suppress it. For if it has no use to him, well, then it has no use to I. For he is My Lord, and his Will, is my Desire.

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My study into the pacts have thusly gotten me nowhere. Then again, my studies are limited to my own experience, and what little I have discussed with Apollyon and Echidna. For what, pray tell, does the Demon obtain from this intermingling of the spirit? I have seen myself becoming more analytic from the mind of my First. I have seen myself viewing the whole rather than the singular from my Second. Yet such are not things I had ever needed, nor things I had ever desired. It is only recently that I have grown to... Appreciate the intricacies that form their... Being. Yet still.

I recall my Lord's words well, upon our arrival. To convene and introduce ourselves amongst one another. For the demon and coven pacts will be necessary for our future works. To not be reluctant. If he had not stated as such? I would not have a single pact. I'd not have sullied my spiritual essence with the unnecessary intrusions of the mortal touch. A part of me ponders if these newfound sensations come from the pacts themselves. Did the Witch that I nearly obeyed utilize her knowledge of such to make me act in weakness? Is it my Second's influence that had me leap for self-preservation rather than the struggle in a fleeting moment of weakness? Are these new sensations that itch among my skull exacerbated by them, or merely a side effect of my harrowing near death experience.

I am most curious of the implications of these pacts. They gain access to further understanding of their tome, access to a ring that draws them closer to me, and I gain the ability to gather essence. For them. I do not bestow it always upon my First, but I do so to those that have curried my favor. Perhaps an inkling for the little bird that tried her best, to show my... Appreciation.

Appreciation... Appreciation. Appreciation...
Why does that word bother me so.

I do not know. I do not understand. 

But it is by My Lord's Will that we are to pact with the mortals, which in turn makes it My Desire.