Emberwood Across the violet sky

He nods and steps to the side to walk past her. What a turn of conversation. Truly, Donovan had no idea the fae would want to help him this bad. Goodness, he was bad at attracting the good ones, huh? The only place her words take him is to the image of Simmik’s face. Her beautiful, beautiful face scrunched up in anger, hate, sadness. All she wanted to do was help him too. He understands why everyone thinks he needs help, but fuck, why does everyone got to call him out on it? Just let him be an amgry, evil boi. 

They always believe he’s able to change and sure, maybe he could, but does he want to? No, absolutely not. He likes the way he plays the game. He likes killing and injuring. He was born for this exact reason. He will fulfill his destiny — whatever that may be (cause really Donovan doesn’t even know). 

So as he walks past he’s quick to turn around to slink in beside her, brushing shoulders. He laughs quietly, not a teasing one, but still condescending. “No, no, dear, I’m not bound by my pain. I’m freed by it. There’s no changing it. It was fate. It was meant to happen.”

Then he takes another step ever closer. Their sides press together and he’s centimeters away from her face, dark maw near her ear. Canary hues half lidded and he speaks in an unrushed, silky smooth tone. “Why would you want to help me so bad, peaches? Because you think I can get turned into a good boy that plays by the rules?”