Donovan made regular, frequent glances around them as they rode. The city grew smaller and smaller behind them, and in the light of the sun he could not see anyone following them. That was a good sign, at least, and they were due for some good luck. He felt exhausted, but wasn't about to show that to his companions - especially the Dark Methuseld. There was no telling what -she- would do, if she felt she had the upper-hand against him and Aza.<br/><br/>Aza... shit... that wench was just as likely to side -with- Dark Methuseld, than be frightened of her. The way she leaned against Dark Methuseld's back told Donovan all that he needed to know: Aza had found a new best-friend, and Dark Methuseld seemed completely fine with that.<br/><br/>What the fuck, -Dean-... Donovan wanted to rage against his darker half, but Dean was nowhere to be found.<br/><br/>Dark Methuseld and Aza both seemed more interested in talking rather than fleeing. Perhaps they figured that with the extent of damage and carnage they had left behind them, they'd be safe for awhile. If anyone seeing the messes they left behind decided to chase after them - wouldn't that be somewhat -suicidal-? That's what Donovan -hoped- their enemies thought. Perhaps their foes were simply hooligans and ruffians based in town, and now that the three of them were -outside- of town, their foes would not follow since the three of them were no longer on anyone's turf. Donovan silently hoped that was true, as well, though he wasn't going to assume anything, taking another glance back behind him.<br/><br/>"This has only happened once before...," Donovan said, turning his attention towards Aza and her question. "He is... just gone. To the nether...," he said, turning his head and nodding toward a tall, slender desert plant with long, sharp spikes. "See that? When the sun is high... where does its shadow go?" he asked. "Wherever that is... that is where Dean is right now... recovering, I suppose, is the closest way to describe it."<br/><br/>~He -better- be recovering...,~ Donovan thought to himself. For all of Dean's odd ways, Donovan missed him when he wasn't near, in some odd way. He'd never admit it, of course. And having Dean nearby in times of trouble... Like -now-... had always been invaluable. Donovan inhaled slowly, causing as little stress - and pain - to his ribs as possible. Then he turned his gaze to Dark Methuseld.<br/><br/>She was a terrifyingly beautiful creature... -whatever- she was. But there was no denying her current form was made to cause a man's blood to run swift and hot... and Donovan was certainly a man. His eyes had more than once glanced over her, noting the bare skin, noting the slender, smooth thighs that he knew would feel heavenly wrapped around his waist... or shoulders. He knew that tiny black thong hid a treasure unlike any other one would find in the greatest vaults, but Donovan also realized that such a treasure might only be had with the highest and most terrible price. The entry fee might even be a soul.<br/><br/>Donovan licked his lips, already dry from the warmth of the sun, the arid land around them, and the lurid thoughts lazily swimming through his mind as he spoke. "I would hope you would have a care for the -real- Methuseld," he pointed out calmly. "She is valuable to us, and not so sour as you would claim," he added, not really sure how else to explain it. Despite Methuseld's distrust and disdain for Dean and Donovan, there had been a sort of... honor... about her, that at least gave Donovan some hint as to her disposition and agenda. He felt he at least knew where he stood concerning the real Methuseld.<br/><br/>THIS woman - Dark Methuseld - was a complete unknown to him. Yet, being a creature he suspected was born of darkness, Donovan knew that she would likely be far more unpredictable than the real Methuseld would be. Already he wished the real one was back, because then at least he would expect some harsh word or insult from the woman's lips, where -this- woman riding near him would be an absolute wild card. Her voice was different, her words pronounced differently as if she were a completely different woman, but Donovan could see traces of the -real- Methuseld, and he wondered if this dark creature would ever allow the real Methuseld to return.<br/><br/>Despite Dark Methuseld's assurances, Donovan did not believe for a moment that this creature was completely benign, and he was certain he had -plenty- to be fearful of.<br/><br/>And then she reached out to him, resting her hand on the top of his own. His head snapped in her direction, as if he was surprised, and his dark eyes locked with hers as she 'introduced' herself. She claimed Methuseld - the real one - had told her Dark self about Donovan - which made Donovan snort and turn his gaze away from her.<br/><br/>"I am sure what she had to say was not good," he replied. "And we can call you whatever you desire. But you are still Methuseld to me. You're simply... borrowing her body," he added, turning his gaze back to her as their horses still ambled forward. "-Borrowing-," he repeated, stressing the word. How could they believe that this creature wasn't -forcing- itself over Methuseld's true self? It -claimed- that it had appeared in response to an invitation, to a plea for help... how did Donovan know -any- of that was true? The -real- Methuseld could be inside this creature, screaming and pleading to be set free. But there was no way to tell what was true and what was not. Harming this creature would be the same as harming Methuseld, since it was really her body still that would receive the brunt of the violence.<br/><br/>If only -Dean- were here, surely he would have an answer.<br/><br/>Donovan did not know precisely how to feel at the moment. Worried for Methuseld and Dean, resentful to both for leaving them, suspicious of Dark Methuseld... yet he could not deny the heavy stiffness stuffed away beneath the layer of his leather breeches. Of -course- any agent of evil could appear as beautiful as an angel... but Donovan had had his share of run-ins with such women, and they were never to be fully trusted.<br/><br/>Ever.<br/><br/>"Come. We should be going. We're still close to the city, and anyone could easily give chase until we are a few more miles away," he urged, his mind burying the image of slipping aside the thin strip of cloth covering her sex... and nestling his thickness their to sample just how dark she was inside...<br/><br/>Donovan heeled his horse, causing it to enter a slow, lazy trot, pulling him out of arm's reach of Dark Methuseld... though it would have been so easy to simply let her keep her hand on his, and he realized it had taken some effort to move along...<br/><br/><br/>