In the few and briefest moments of peace, he looks at the world through the Millennium Ring, and simply looks about.

Not really seeing any of it with the exception of a pair of pale hands and the occasional flicker of heavenly, and still shocking, white hair at the edges of the vision.

He hardly pays attention in these moments, because even if he doesn't need sleep, he feels tired. Just so tired and his eye lids are heavy with the weight of a thousand sand storms.

Jaded eyes stare out in a trance like state for hours on end, never once glancing away.

In mock humanity, he pretends to yawn because the silence was getting too, well, silent, and his Host was getting ready to go to bed as well anyways.

On the outside he dully notes that his Host stiffens for several skip-beat seconds, before letting himself remember how to breath and he went dutifully back to work as if the Spirit hadn't done a thing.

Quietly, too quiet even for him, he let out a low, short, amused chuckle and watches in tired glee as his Host unconsciously shivered at the near inaudible sound.

As visible as your breathe in the freezing night and mist falling over bright houses in late spring, the Spirit made himself at home at the edge of his Host's bed, blue covers and white sheets.

He sees his Host stiffen once again and curl into himself, tightening his already shut eyes. But he was almost as tired as the Spirit to express the normal fear he had for his demon.

So the Spirit gives a half-smile and leans over, looking over the innocent and blinding white frame of his Host, and the tiredness retreats more and more until he is fully awake and combing his translucent fingers through soft snowy locks as Ryou fell into a dreamless sleep that night as the boy always had.

It was strange, but he couldn't help it. It was his body after all.

He wasn't as egotistic as they all said and thought him to be, but he understood the need to love yourself, and he gladly agreed. His Host was just too innocent to not love.

Not in the sense of those horrid "dramas" and over exaggerated lovey-dovey, twisted ideals people in this time era had. Just that warm, understanding love, that kind of love that you knew who you were and could always forgive.

The kind of love many people in this damned time have lost.

His hand suddenly clenched into a fist, tugging sharply at Ryou's hair in his short contempt, causing the boy to stir some, but the Spirit lets go and gently shushes him back to sleep in an almost urgent tone.

Sighing into the boy's white, and just as innocent, locks, he found himself gazing into the most beautiful vessel he could ever dream of.

If Ra had a heart, he had done good this time, for he had never knew he of all people could have looked and been so innocent in all his living of thieving and killing so many millenia ago.

Ah, but of course this version of himself was naive as well. He rarely referred to his Host by name, since he himself had none, so his other half shouldn't have one either, but also because he really was but that, his Host for this life.

And within this life, this innocent and naive version of himself, had lost himself to the ideals of this worlds society, strongly guided by what they dictated was right or wrong.

He scoffed at the very thought.

While he was alive there were few such things, the only sort of right or wrong was either self-representative by that individual alone and by certain Gods, Goddesses, and their representatives, that which their faithful followers lived by.

Such sins in this day and age where not the same as back then, murder could have been righteous and celebrated, it could have been hateful and pain-filled, but as a whole, it was broken into those individual fractions. Now people were conformed to complete whole?

Don't make him laugh. Everyone in this age was a hypocritical, foolish, and down right, idiot for trying to fit things into such broad and uncertain categories while proclaiming to uphold such sacred acts with their tomfoolery and bastardizing anything with their grubby half-assed promises.

He gave a sharp growl at that and watched his Host squirm slightly in his sleep.

This useless version of himself got caught up in all that utter shit as well.

And the boy wondered why the Spirit never let him indulge in any of that pure intolerable bull?

The urge to sigh again itched his throat, but he only let out another deep growl, effectively fighting back the annoying feeling for the time being, very aware of the shudder his Host gave at the dark sounding.

He admitted he didn't like this part of himself very much. He almost hated this part. But it was himself, so he forgave the most of it and settled for simply taking matters into his own hands.

He tried to show this version what the world was really like and tried to keep him from falling into this societies inky grasp, but alias, even he knew he was stubborn more than all the Hell's to exist combined, and unfortunately, this version of himself shared that quality with just as much, if not more, vigor.

So he tried to quell his growing dislike for this version, all the while protecting the boy from evil intentions that tried to take his goal away and trying to make the boy's life more fulfilling despite the boy's annoying protests.

As time went by without him noticing, he gave a hearty chuckle when Ryou woke up, but still refused to open his eyes, very much aware of the Spirit looming over him.

He slipped back into the Ring and repeated the deed of yesterday, watching the new world through tired and jaded eyes, occasionally amusing himself by making his Host feel fear.

Through jaded eyes he didn't see much of anything, with the exception of his Host's actions and the more ill-intended gestures from those foolish mortals that flooded this decaying world.

He couldn't wait, but he learned patience, virtue or not. He waited and watched through tired and jaded eyes through the Millennium Ring, and watched over his Host silently through the shadows.

Through jaded eyes he looked at the world during the few and far in-between moments of peace.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, any and all rights go to their rightful owners.

Blah, this kind of relationship isn't what I really pictured for Ryou and the Spirit or the Thief King, but I suppose it's working alright for now... I'mma try and keep this alive, for the most part at least.

Some inspirational credit goes to the song American Trash by Innerpartysystem(IPS) and boredom as per the usual~

Flames and constructive criticism aren't minded, maybe even encouraged, but the review would still be appreciated.