A Demon Chooses, A Servant Obeys

[Observing Future]

"At least, that is what a human would do."

"Humans are innately selfish, conflicted, guilt ridden."

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I have grown accustomed to most of the emotions within me. To fear, merely brings a satisfaction in its conquering. That giddy jubilation when I watch a particularly interesting mortal accomplish its task, or when my pactee's choose to thrive over simply existing, is a pleasantly weighted sensation. Yet even with this knowledge, it irks me so. It irks me that I sometimes take on traits of my Second, and gather ingredients for others- or present them with such should they need it. As if their lives have an ounce of weight in comparison to that of my Lords. It irks me, that I find myself acting as my First, pondering, trying to look through veils and analyze an individual thoroughly, when I know I lack the wit and guile to do so.

It annoys me. That at times, I feel this scratching at the back of my head. An idle itch, to be more than what I am.

I am not guilt ridden. I have never once regretted a single thing I have done. I am selfish, and love to enjoy the decadence of my splendors. I am not conflicted, I know what I hate. I know what I enjoy. I know what I want. And what I want most recently, has begun to irritate me to no end. I do not know the proper words to draw it out, to investigate and dig deeper. As I watch My Lord, I see that he does. Even if our reasons for doing so are different.

I want to understand these mortals. I want to understand the ones that deny themselves so. There are plenty that hide behind guises of caring, a guise of religious fervor, a guise of servitude or devotion, but deep down they know the true reason why they participate in this game instead of actually truly staying out of trouble. There are very few like that of Arlyss, or even to a lesser degree, Sanfey.

I hate them.

And yet I am glad she lived, I will find a way to coarse the real Sanfey writhing within her heart.

Perhaps it is akin to my Second's obsession... Living rent free within my mind, because they are not something I can have. A goal that I view as near- if not fully- impossible to accomplish. How does one go about rending the shackles that bind them, to reveal who and what they really are... The way Arlyss fought, it was forcing her to choose. Desperation to keep the blade away from My Lord. Desperation to have her apprentice returned to her.

Is that it, than? Do I need to focus less upon what is inside of them, and more upon what is out. Their relationships, their friendships. If we had treated Sanfey like little more than disposable. Would her will have broken beneath the weight of torment and pain?

I prefer it when they choose it.

It satisfies me so much more.

But maybe some cannot make a choice.

I already know that My Lord was not fighting at his strongest. He was fighting with a blade, not his fangs nor his claws. A part of me ponders why. Is it much alike I and my struggle? To face something while handicapped, to claw ones way to the top or to be felled and forced to try again and again until one is so thoroughly entertained. Or... Is it his Pride of the Blade... It all makes me think and wonder more. Why do we adorn the skin of mortals, when we are perfect beasts? Why when I reached such ascensions, the appeal of mortal meals suddenly held flavor and texture beyond my comprehension. Every answer leads me to another question, every thought leads me to another branch of consideration. And it leaves me with.

Why. Why. Why. Why.

I refuse the blissful satisfaction of ignorance.

Because now that I have known.

It will never satisfy me again.

So I shall play your mortal games.

And we shall see what becomes of it.

But, what I do hope most.

Is that I will remain satisfied.