WELCOME TO DREAMWIDTH, HERO...

Mistletoe.

You never know what might be underneath.

Or the compulsion it might cause.

This month makes me sick.



[ooc: Don't get under any mistletoe! Desire might show up and make you miserable this December...]

If fog rolls in on cat feet, and the world ends in fire, then what poetry can be used to describe this?

Hello, City.

Did you miss me?

Before some of you announce that you don't know me, please be aware that redundancy bores me. You'd hate to do that.

Well City.

I hope you had a lovely time without me.

So little mice. The cat came back. Scurry, scurry, scurry.

[ooc: if you have been waiting for Desire to begin a plot (cough, PepperTonyBond cough) feel free to start whenever you like now]

[There's the sound of a cigarette lighting; the clarity is perfect; the fire, then the slight hiss of the paper catching on fire, and the metallic clink of the lighter closing. And a breath, before Desire begins to speak. It's voice is soft and low, but the words are clear enough]

I suppose the older Endless would call it meddling.

Maybe. The older Endless fight a lot of joy in calling out what is painfully obvious. Unless it's an act of their own doing. But nobody likes a know-it-all, Desire. Shut up, Desire.

[There's a pause and another breath]

There are things only fools meddle with. And people think that I have been cruel; that's a lie. I have been, to this point, extraordinarily kind. Compassionate. Playful.

But I am capable of great cruelty.

And so, today, City. Who will be the first to tell Desire to shut up and think that I am being cruel?

My siblings, naturally, do not count.

Puss went home.

My sister pointed out that our perspective of time is a bit...different, if one wants to put it that way. We are constant. We exist and exist, and there is nothing you can do to make us stop. An exercise in futility.

I was there when the stars danced alone, circling each other and bowing in polite, sweet, soft circles. They wanted the cold sweet embrace of space, they wanted their planets. I was there when Sto-oa chose Killalla, gave her his light, the light that now some in the City wield as their own as though it was theirs, and I will be there when Sto-oa takes it back.

I was there when the first sentient race opened their eyes and thought that they might want something more than they had, I was there when the first sentient race died; burning out, succumbing to other, older sibling. I was there when the human race was born, and I will be there when the human race will die.

I was there when Delight went mad, when my twin abandoned herself and returned, when the Prodigal left us. I was there when Morpheus made his choice.

I have watched, and I continue.

You do not know how to understand.

Oh, the holidays.

This is Despair's season, not mine.

Private to Edward Nygma | Action

Now.

Are you quite over it?

[There the sound of clicking, almost like metal on metal, like a leash snapping on, but then there's the sound of paper burning and an inhale, and it's clear it's the sound of Desire's lighter. Desire's voice is smokey, and casual, and soft, barely a whisper, but there's a definite amusement there too]

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

So much to see.

Denial and repression are almost the exact same thing, even though petty differences in the definition are sometimes the subject of debate. It doesn't matter. Both are useless bitches. A bit like my once older brother, and then again with Discord. Honestly, some people are just fools.

Wouldn't it be a shame if people thought I was upset? Perhaps some of you might not think so; after all, you seem perfectly content to hate me. I can't imagine why. I haven't done anything to you. Even Delirium knows that.

But then, you're all afraid of the truth, and so you hate me.

Maybe I should change that particular fact.

[ooc: wtf lj]

I know the the general saying is something like while the cat's away, the mice will play but the sheer audacity of these games, particularly in the scenario presented aren't exactly the most intelligent of things, are they?

After all, silence isn't indicative that there is anything missing, is it?

So what have you been doing in my silence?

There are several questions that should be taken into account.

Let us begin with this one. Did you really think that I have not been here? That you have been immune to what I am, or perhaps to all of us? Explanations are nothing more than excuses; and no one knows this more than me. I have no interest in either, but that should come as no surprise.

Who will be the first, to try and please me? Or perhaps with how contrary you are, annoy me?

And to the Family, I say. Is this the only welcome you'll give me? Coldness. I think I approve.