Red clay and singing canyons are familiar and burdensome to the demon boy. His stark red eyes scan the glowing horizon as if something might appear out of thin air. It is in these rare moments of supreme boredom that he misses his father and how he could make something out of nothing with his shadows. Draco curses his parents’ genes for not passing on that powerful magic, though he certainly does not mind the devil’s gifts he possesses.
As dry as his home is, he cannot kiss it goodbye. He does not consciously admit this to himself, but he lingers in Pangea in the hopes that Litotes will return. He loves his family (they are the only thing he does love), and a piece of him feels missing. While he knows the shadowed man is more than likely holed up in some cave, Draco feels as if he will never see him again. There is an emptiness burning holes in his chest—black holes that suck everything within him into nothingness, then spit out the otherside as pure hellfire.
Time and time alone will heal all wounds, is what they say; but Draco only feels his gashes festering.
He hums to himself, a habit he picked up in the record time he has spent alone, as the sun sets picturesque before him. Below, a soft dip reveals a nearly rushing underground river. The demon dips his head to the edge and kicks a pebble over as the last glimmers of sunlight make his crimson horns sparkle.
Hiss, the dust and rock stumbles as Draco suddenly makes a descent into the small canyon. He dips into the shallower parts of the water, beneath a low-hanging cliff. In the shadows his eyes glow, and he peers numbly up at the waning day’s glow.
@[clarissa] <3 and any
