hide from your family
they won't know you now

Why the hell did he have to come? Dimitri groused inwardly as he plodded after Lux, eyes sharp on the things she wouldn't see. He was half tempted to ditch the bitch, to leave her within the realm of Glorall. Here he was, constantly mapping escape routes, making sure that he always had a way out, making sure... making sure nothing went wrong. That was all he needed to do, that was all he was here for. Not like Dimitri trusted her as far as he could throw her. Not like he trusted anyone as far as he could throw them. Already he was sick to his stomach – he didn't want to be out. He didn't like to be out. He'd become a recluse with a case of social anxiety that he was luckily good at keeping under wraps. He wasn't okay.

He hadn't been okay in a long time. Dimitri suspected that there were other reasons he'd been sent with Lux. He'd been such a shadow, lurking around, skulking... he was hardly muscle. He'd sooner leave Lux and whatever pissant yearling they'd brought along than fight for them. Hell, he didn't fight at all. Dimitri didn't care to battle personally. Too light, too thin, too easy to break. Fragile. He'd always fucking been the fragile one, and it wasn't like anyone realized it. He was going crazy, slowly and completely going crazy. Welcome to his world... he didn't need to hold onto himself. It was easier to let little pieces flake away.

As he moved, he strayed farther and farther from the “true” demon. Inwardly, the creature wondered how much bullshit was really there with these so called demons... who the hell did they think they were? He wasn't a coward, but he wasn't necessarily brave – and he'd strode right into their den. He'd walked in when he was little more than a pup, and they hadn't done a damn thing to him. He was fine. He was unscathed. His little brother had waltzed in unannounced and he wasn't eaten. Dimitri found himself less and less of a believer every day. The bitch was speaking. He probably should listen, but the glaze of apathy had settled over him a few long moments ago.

“Right, right. Not welcome to speak. Hardly welcome to breathe. She sent me for a reason, remember?” Acrid words drip off his tongue, and the apathy doesn't bother wavering. Dimitri's ribs poke out of his sides, highlighted as he sighs pointedly. Another long, boring afternoon. Politics.

dimitri
{ four }{ male }{ 44” }{ 105lbs }{ unimprintable }{ iromar }{ no mate }

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