thinking abt how wv is haunted by the thousands of revolutionaries he lead and he cant even escape in his dreams as he feverishly fears becoming the very thing that killed them. now how can i translate this into his True fears over being a leader on earth c

Zoom into the Mayoral office on Earth C, a little dersite stares with contempt at the gift on his desk. a Ring. Rings hes decided are never anything good. Rings bring him nothing but ruin. Rings made his last living friend more prone to anger, to violence. she smells like death

He picks it up. He rolls it between his carapaced fingers and sees the clawed hand of the slayer reaching through his midsection just so he could steal a hunk of rock. he sees the slayer doing so to the soldier standing next to him. he sees the clawed hand as his own

He puts the ring down. no, he hides the ring. in his favorite plant in his room, deep under the roots, beneath the leaves. he wonders if it will cause it to change, to wither, and if these roots will claps around the ring. as if he can escape the fate thats been calling him

How many faces are calling for him to lead. He and her are currently the oldest living beings on this planet, give or take temporal shenanigans. The ring threatens everything. The ring is at the Root of everything. Blood seeps the dirt and chokes his beloved farms

She calls him. His hands have dirt and blood on him. She doesnt notice the blood on him or herself. She smiles and the Mayor sees her sharp, sharp teeth she did not have before. Every glance of her or a mirror and hes thrown back into place

Hes lying on the cold ancient metal of a cannister, his blood seeping through the panels on the ground. this doesnt hurt as much as when he stood untouched in the remains of a river running red. He wishes the Slayer let him die there. He will never tell her.

She sacrificed so much for him. She became It. The people need him. God she needs him. And he needs her. he cant imagine living or leading another day without her as a guiding, green light. He has grown to hate the color green more than anything.

She leads him by the hand outside. Children laugh and shake his bloody hands. He smiles. Its not forced. it just hurts. And it will never stop hurting.

Thats all im done writing this