My gift is my song, and this ones for you

Desdemona was gone and there was no getting her back. Demonio had finally come to terms with his new reality and it was slowly starting to not affecting him. Thoughts about her were becoming less frequent and when they did come along, they didn't have the same force that they did when her abandonment had been more recent. It still hurt a bit to think about how she just left him like that, but he was resigned to the fate that had been bestowed upon him. But he didn't dwell on her much. He had his place among Valhalla now, with his new daughter Seraphine. He was slowly building himself a new life, one where Desdemona was nothing but a distant memory. He was getting better. Or so he thought.


It was a very warm summer day, not extremely hot, but warm enough that it dredged up just a bit of heat exhaustion if one stayed out under the glare of the sun for too long. Being of a pale coat, Demonio wasn't affected too greatly by the sun rays, but that didn't mean that he was completely immune to the heat either. It affected him just like any other. He had left Seraphine back home in Val that day, just wanting to have a bit of time to himself, away from his new home. Don't get him wrong, he loved Valhalla already, it was a great home, but he was still kind of adjusting and the occasional alone time was just what the doctor ordered. He didn't wander far, his mind set now one of a father's, making him a lot more worrisome than he had ever been before. He didn't plan on being gone for too long. Despite having left not to long ago, he could already feel the familiar ache of Seraphine's absence gnawing at his heart. He didn't like being away from his new daughter for so long, not when she was such a big part of him forming his new life.


Pale limbs moved at an easy pace, a slow walk bringing the white man towards the whistling willows. His mismatched gaze had been focused on his paws, watching as his talons dug into the soil with every step, oddly interested in his paws for some reason. He should've kept his eyes down. When Demonio looked up, his heart nearly stopped. Desdemona's name flashed across his mind like a beacon as his gaze settled the pregnant white woman before him. She was nearly identical to Desdemona, were it not for her amethyst eyes. Would that have been how his ex-wife have looked like if she'd stuck around? He could only wonder as he stood frozen in place, staring at the white woman he'd met before but whose name he could remember at the moment, too deeply immersed in his shock to try remembering it.



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