Dark stood near the edge of the balcony, his shoulders back and his arms behind him. He gazed at the open land before him, lost in thought. Standing so high up was peaceful. It gave one a sense of power, looking down upon seeming small and insignificant trees , already casting shadows with the setting of the sun. The view was also serene with an almost infinite amount of forest and sky, eyes scanning the distance for nothing in particular. It was… humbling.
No wonder Damien liked places such as this so much.
It had been a long time since Dark heard Damien and Celine's voices in his head. Even now, he struggled to get used to not hearing two people bickering in his mind. A part of him missed it. With the two of them around, he never felt alone or lost on his continuing quest for vengeance. His mind was silent now, the only voice being his own. The two personalities had finally congealed into his one configuration of being. Dark was just Dark now, and nothing else.
Dark leaned against the edge of the balcony, his arms supporting his weight on top of the stone barrier. He gently closed his eyes, slowly exhaling. The light breeze felt cool against his skin. He enjoyed the quiet. His stance loosened as he relaxed.
Coming up here helped him decompress. As he tended to get angered and annoyed easily, he found that this was the one place that he found peace.
Mark.
His thoughts almost always returned to Him. The asshole of a man who framed Wil for his own murder. The man who killed for power and jealousy and stole his-Damien's body. The man who made Dark the twisted, broken entity he was today. Would he and Wil ever fully recover from what Mark did that fateful night? Would he ever be satisfied with killing Mark? Would they ever be happy?
There was a splintering crack. Underneath Dark's fisted hand was a fractured dent in the stone wall. He slowly removed his hand, unclenching it, powdery dust covering it.
Dark exhaled a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding. He gracefully rubbed the stone dust from his hand, instantly regaining his composure and poise. He hated how much control Mark had over him and his thoughts, even when the bastard wasn't here. Dark hated being so weak and full of self-doubt. How would he be able to get revenge when he couldn't even think straight? How would he be able to protect those he cared for if he couldn't mentally protect himself? How would he live with himself if he failed the one thing that had kept his fragmented body together for so long?
So much for peace and quiet.
"Damien?"
Dark stiffened. He hadn't heard that voice nor was called "Damien" in years. He slowly turned to face the man.
"Hello, Wil."