Klarion's whole purpose in living, well, if you could call being as old as time itself living when really it was just existing, was chaos.

He lived it, he breathed it. He was chaos, and chaos was him. There was nothing more fulfilling to the Lord of Chaos than his art, his craft, and, of course, trying to rip that stupid golden bucket off Dr. Fate's head for daring to interrupt his fun.

But, he had found something that was, he might even dare to say, even if it sounded ridiculous to him...equally fulfilling.

It almost made him gag, if he was forced to say it out loud.

Friendship. With a human.

Klarion didn't know what it was about you. He couldn't even place why he liked you, you were practically a bug to him. A helpless lamb, no teeth, no bite. You didn't even like destruction! You had this aura about you that didn't foster it, that made his impulses to destroy and harm fizzle out like a spark stomped out with a boot. But he did like you. You were his friend, even if it was disgusting, and he didn't totally understand why.

His chaos witchcraft wasn't chaos, around you. It was, well...

"You really should be more careful, silly. Sharp things will cut you! Believe me, I've watched flesh be ripped apart in ways you can't imagine." Klarion flicked his wrist, feeling the familiar tug of magic at his fingertips. He used it not to harm, but to plaster a brightly colored bandaid on the cut on your knee as you sat, together, in his usual home between dimension, between mortal world and other.

You were no Chaos Lord, no Witch, but in calming that spirit which flourished in destruction, you had your own kind of power.