Restless.
NO SLEEP.
NEVER SLEEP.
It had seen, a little too much. Nobody and nothing with the authority to do so had decided as such, but the fatigue building, the weights getting heavier, it was obvious that for its time, its pathetically short existence, it had perhaps seen much.
Too much.
The world was cold. Blind. Loveless. They'd kill each other for a bundle of seeds and enslave their families to save their own skin. This was good. It meant it didn't need to feel upset when yet another group of weary survivors had been cut down. It meant it didn't need to not kill the occasional turn-coat, the rare breed that chose to side with the darkness at the last second, that pathetic change of heart. If they truly wanted to display their love for them, then why didn't they do it sooner?
The world was cold and apathetic, and it meant it had no responsibility to reciprocate neither mercy nor love.
Changelings hungered for it, Angel could never be warmed by it, and his remnants, his followers, the closest thing he ever had to friends and family- died in the dark, alone, waiting for it. Tragedy was the natural order for them, the world gave them no miracles, no unrelenting strength, no force of nature. These things, these deplorable things, these hurtful actions, sometimes they simply just happened. No need to dig deeper. There was no grand illusion, no overarching story or megalomaniacal villain that you could just KILL, and wipe away the debts with. Death, or more accurately, tragedy, was the natural order for the unloved.
You could simply close your eyes to it, become numb, forget all about what they'd done, and what they'd do, and all of the loss and the tragedy. It was like falling back asleep after a terrible nightmare.
DON'T SLEEP.
To sleep was to invite tragedy. Surely. Tragedy came in threes. The rise. The joy. The fall. It had already fallen asleep twice. If it- If it even so much as blinked, then the world would surely end. It searched for excuses to avoid sleep. Children. They were all like children. Soft. Fragile. If you so much as even took your eye off of them then they'd be dead- they'd start something, hurt themselves, irreparable wounds. Thousand years of war and torture. Fools. Fools couldn't be trusted unattended- they'd break something trying to entertain you, and then they'd- they'd bleed everywhere.
Mortals bleed. Therefore, it could not- would not, sleep. They'd dirty the sands- the earth, with their filthy blood.
Envy tore its form free of the earth that had swallowed it, an alcove turned cliff from the amount of stone and earth and void it had shattered and displaced. It perched itself on a ledge, a great serpent, leviathan, watching over the towns in the distance. It would busy itself by watching, by hearing, by being the stalwart sentry of a world that knew only peace. It could not sleep, it would not sleep, it refused to sleep.
The silence was deafening, yet peaceful in a strange way. The mortals were truly like children, soft, fragile, and short-lived. All they knew was war, pain, and suffering. It had seen too much. Leviathan stared out over the horizon, watching, listening, guarding the towns in the distance as it had promised itself that it would do. There would be no tears shed for mortal lives lost, nor any joy felt for mortal lives saved. Their insignificant lives would continue on, until their abrupt ends came and they were forgotten.
...How sad. Songs were never written to end, yet they always did.
The weight of the world threatened to shut its eyes close, and it steeled itself, braced against the dying of its light.
DO. NOT. SLEEP.
The words echoed in its mind, and again it took in the silence. It would not give in to sleep, it would remain vigilant, for its own sake. It would be the guardian of the towns in the distance, protecting them from the inevitable tragedies that would surely come.
Its mantra became its only companion throughout its vigil. It was now part of its identity, as essential to it as its need for survival. It- it would make it part of it's being. It would not rest, it would not falter, it would not fail.
Sleep was close, tempting, and it would not give in to that good night. It refused to admit to itself that it was like the mortals it watched over. Bleeding the same blood, sharing the same terror.
In a desperate bid to resist the siren call of the dead, Envy focused himself outward. Out to that far off little town, that mass of beautiful twinkling lights and life. He took in the smells and the sights around him, hearing the gentle winds, basking in the light of the sun- His Sun.
The green leaves. The white flowers, the rolling plains. Peace, was this world. The embodiment. So unlike the Equestria they'd experienced.
It heard the steady heartbeat of the world. Of the town, of everything, of anything alive. It heard the averaging, the harmony of their lives, as one great cacophony of life, an orchestra, a symphony of life. The steady heartbeat of life was soothing. It calmed, it warmed. For a moment, he would allow himself to close his eyes, but only this once, and listen. The way the wind flowed through the grass, it was like hearing the breath of the world, and the steady pulse of existence was a beautiful song.
Everything was destined for tragedy at one point. Doomed. Old age. Sickness. Stupidity... But...
But maybe just this once. It could sleep. Envy allowed itself to be wrapped up in the warmth of its own world, populated by its friends, and drifted as it listened to the soothing lullaby, of existence. It certainly had no plans to sleep. It just needed to close its eyes, and soak in every last bit of beauty. It existed only in the moment now, and the now turned into two, as it became more enthralled with the music box of life.
As Envy began to lose its imposed crusade against sleep, a great flame in its core rallied against its foe, and came forth as a great big bellow. A soft, tired yawn. Weight poured off its back in rivulets, washed away in the moment as the mind truly began to fog, dissolving- lost in the torrent of realities simple wonders. Peace.
Rest... Rest was necessary, and it was inescapable. The creature finally let go of its vigilance, allowing itself to slip into a deep, peaceful sleep. It was a good thing that rest was necessary, for who could expect someone to guard the world forever, with no rest or relief? Certainly not them. They never expected anything of him. Not his maker, not his ponies, not even the other shades. He was Envy, the Enviable, and yet there was nothing to envy.
The music of life continued with the turning of the world, the ponies would continue living, families would be mended- though the cracks would be visible for years. The world would go on, with or without his restful watch, and unlike the one above- this one, did care.
And it also, cared for Envy.