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No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure.

Why he kept roaming the Threshold, even though the entirety of Helovia stretched out just south of there? What a question. It was like asking why not all roses were red, why some snakes carried poison in their fangs while others choked their prey to death, or why the moon decided to hide her face from the mortals once every month. There were no definite answers, only guesses where some were better than others.

If he had to answer, then perhaps it was because the forest was like a doorway? It was a place for beginnings and ends, arrivals and departures, and everyone that passed through this place was sure to have at least one good story to tell. They might be able to entertain him, might provide him with a purpose, or at the very least a chance to pass some time.

So far, the time he had spent in this place hadn't been very interesting at all. He'd met some amusing people, seen some interesting sights, but nothing that compelled the stallion to linger. A girl he'd met had promised him home and work but ultimately forgotten all about it, another had promised death and torment should he follow the first. He'd spoken to a wolf-horse, a talking snake, a stallion that may or may not have been an embodiment of death itself, he'd been pummeled by boiling rocks at the heart of the world and healed by a pegasus who feared him. As single incidents they had their worth, but when collected and compared his actions ultimately proved pointless. What purpose was there to find in a set of random meetings, what would he gain from continuing this roaming existence?

Wrapped within this cloak of thoughts the pale demon broke through the vegetation and stepped out into the creek, head halfway lowered when the presence of another was registered. Black, horned, standing in the middle of the stream a couple of yards to the left. Immediately the thick neck lifted again, and as he spun around to face the black stranger the big hooves tore up cascades of water around the legs. Cold and clear, he barely registered how the liquid began to numb the skin; too busy preparing himself for a clash, much too absorbed in the evaluation of the opponent.

At a first glance, they appeared about equal.

Djinn was taller, without doubt, rising over the other with a difference of several hands. Heavier too, but seeing as the raven-cloaked beast was built for speed and agility they would probably be an even match. Gray neck arched, chin tucking tighter to the chest where patches of pink skin and baby hair revealed a series of burns in the process of healing; the sun caught onto the crustal horn upon his brow, making the spear glitter like a sky-touched icicle in the light. The scars on the others dark pelt revealed the proficiency of this new arrival; they matched his own, revealing them both as walking hazards, living weapons capable of death and destruction.

Would they have to put their skills to the test?

"Pardon, seems like I barged in on your bath" the gray demon said, tone easy and casual but with eyes that tentatively tested the mood of this unknown unicorn.

Nor is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain.

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