Donovan was an odd alter to characterize. Perhaps he was the heart-throb and Dimitri was the kicked puppy. Donovan was very much, unlike his creator. They had similar ideas of love, but Donovan liked to use his imagination. Dimitri liked to think about a domestic life with a nice little lady, liked to imagine himself waking up to see a lovely face every morning. It was Donovan’s belief that Dimitri wanted what his parents could never give him. He wanted to be a good father, he wanted to raise happy, normal children. He wanted to hold his lover close to him and stay with that lover.
Donovan could share that sentiment- a domestic life. Donovan knew of the value of a single lover and a happy adulthood. He valued it, but he didn’t quite share Dimitri’s ideals. He had to, however. Dimitri had already made it very clear that he didn’t want Donovan to woo anyone without Dimitri’s consent.
It made Donovan upset sometimes. Donovan wanted to do his own things, have his own life and idea of love.
Donovan, programmed to fantasize, imagined fake girlfriends and fiancees. Dancing to jazz with a nice man then sticking to his side as they walked home together, fall asleep together. Donovan had all sorts of ideas of what he wanted to do with someone. He wanted to lick someone’s fur and intertwine tails with someone. Maybe Donovan wanted a peaceful, domestic relationship like Dimitri. Maybe Donovan wanted to a lover who would spend every day with him.
Maybe Donovan was lonely. Maybe Donovan just wanted someone.

He felt like Desdemona’s creation was somehow, his fault. Desdemona was the only alter who split from another alter, everyone else came from Dimitri. Desdemona may as well be a produce of his failure, because he didn’t bother to tell Dimitri and it was his fault-

Enough of that.

Donovan stepped outside, glancing at their bed and bag in their hidey hole. They weren’t comfortable being around everyone else yet, and they came to the conclusion that was dug out den was best for them right now. Donovan felt comfortable enough leaving their bag right now. Donovan was careful to step on the leaves, and avoid the dirt. He didn’t want to ruin his pretty white fur. It took hours to groom and Donovan cared too much for his appearance. Donovan was a dazzling white longhair cat. He lacked that crusty and ugly Persian face Dakota had. Donovan was merely fluffy. The tom’s red eyes ran over the camp, vaguely wondering if he could try his chances with anyone.

An image flashed in his mind of Buckingham holding him down by the neck with that strong metal arm of his- he paused, lips scrunching. No, no, he didn’t really like that image. Donovan hadn’t met enough people yet.
Well, they’d certainly get to meet him today.