Having returned to dust.

[Seven]

She was trembling, poor pathetic, sad and frightened looking thing. She wanted desperately to know what sin she had committed against the man, and no matter what she thought, nothing seemed to make sense. But then again, her thoughts were hardly coherent, as she was overtaken to much by fear and adrenaline. She nodded slowly, though this too was another mistake, for the shadow poked into part of her flesh and cut her there as well. Wincing, she immediately stopped, realizing just how serious the angry dragon was to have the lance so, so close. She had to explain, but what was she to explain anyways? What could she explain? What, oh what on Earth had she done? Was it that she held onto him? That she held on and....Her eyes glanced away, half in shame and half in embarrassment. What had she been doing anyways? How completely inappropriate of her---what on earth had possessed her, such a shy and distant girl, to take such lustrous actions? Yet...this didn't make sense either since....
Ironically, it was her eyes that reflected having been betrayed, alongside the feelings of terror and sorrow.

"I'll..." he voice was shaky, lost of all it's previous eloquence, as if she were just barely forcing herself to speak. "I'll try....bu--but honestly...I'm not sure what's going on myself...." In the very least, her fearful words seemed sincere. She inhaled, preparing herself for the worst, which could very well be the second the dragon become tired of listening to her. And so, she figured she'd just spit it out along with an apology, since she didn't want to try his patience with lengthy wonderings and explanations. "I'm so sorry---I don't know what came over me, or why I would have held onto you like that! I swear, I won't ever touch you again, I don't even know why I had acted so...so..." her sentence started dying down. She flushed slightly, just from the memory of it, and was unsure how to phrase her lusty actions without sounding like such a sleaze. Instead, she opted to begin again, with new energy.

"It was completely inappropriate of me in any case, and I am shocked with myself that I was capable of acting so imprudently, and I don't know what I was thinking, and I still...and I..." she seemed to have wanted to say a great deal of things in a hurry, only to end up this train-wreck sort of ending for a sentence. But she managed to continue. "...And honestly, I didn't even really think I was awake anymore, as strange as that may sound, but everything seemed to be pointing to the notion that I was having a lucid dream, which has happened to me before on rare occasions, since everything seemed very clouded and strange to begin with!" She gulped, figuring an example might do some little good. "I entered this bathroom this morning, and when I entered it, it was fine, just as you showed me the previous night. But I closed my eyes for a mere second in contemplation, and suddenly, when I opened them, everything was like...this. And then you came...and...and...and....and suddenly I had recognized the strange sensation as that of being in a nightmare, and then a dream...for I would have never, ever, ever done that in my right mind!"

The larger part of her was convinced that her odd story was not going to help any, and that she was good as gone either way. So some meager amount of courage left in her suggested that she at least try to discover the truth before death, so that she might not become some strange wandering ghost, wondering what became of her poor life. So with heavy heart full of confusion and feelings of betrayal, she mustered up that remaining courage to turn the questions on him. "But you...if you were so opposed to me touching you...I just don't understand. Yes, it was so inappropriate of me, and I still don't know where my head was....but if you were so opposed to it, why did you hold onto me as long as you did? Why did you...?" For a second, her eyes looked up at him with hurt and confusion, before looking back away in fluster. But now that she had a moment or two to think of it, some minor feelings of anger betrayed themselves, and she suddenly murmured almost inaudibly, "Did you think it would be funny to string me along like that?"

And yet, she mentioned nothing about the smile or the marking. But it wasn't out of avoidance, it was out of ignorance. That seemed to be clear, considering all her defenses seemed to revolve around her earlier, affectionate caresses, and her confusion on why she had done such a thing to begin with. And as far as the marking went, she seemed to not even realize it existed.

[Asila]

At first, Malevolos would seem entirely unaffected by the girl's halting explanation. He only kept the fiery pits that now served him as eyes fixated on her and the point of the lance remained at her throat. Even after she nicked herself he did not ease up. His only response was the slight curl of his lip as it turned up wards into slight, though clearly derisive sneer of disdain. His form, though locked in that threatening posture, seemed to radiate dark excitement that only grew in intensity as her fear became stronger. Like any predatory creature, he had locked onto this sign of weakness and the primitive thrill derived from exploiting it was impossible to deny when all thoughts capable of such reason had been vanquished. It seemed that there was no hope for her now.

Then something changed. As Serena's explanation began to discuss exactly what had happened to provoke her into embracing him as she did, how she had closed her eyes and then opened them to find the room had warped into something nightmarish around her, how she had felt as though she were engaged in a waking dream; a faint frown line appeared upon Malevolos' brow and the flame that had taken the place of his eyes flickered fitfully, as though under assault by a stronger, cooling wind. In the back of his mind that cool voice echoed. This gruesome display that only a powerful enemy would dare taunt me with, the girl's location directly in the center of it all, the unconnected quality of her mind, and... He slowly turned his head to look directly at the mirror. And that telling message scrawled in blood. It is all connected. There is something more here. His frown deepened by another degree as he tried to capture this impression as it flew, fleeting, across the surface of his mind. His eyes still burned, his stance still seethed dark intent, but logic was struggling, though badly debilitated by wrath's viscous attack upon it, to regain control of the situation. It was a slow, painful struggle, with little ground gained or lost, but this basic awareness of what was around him was the first step taken upon the path that would lead him out of the flames and bring him back to himself.

Unfortunately, the girl's last comment fueled his rage enough that his already crippled sense of logic had no hope of overcoming it, and that first step was lost. Of course, it wasn't her fault. It was perfectly understandable that she feel angry as well; she was in danger of losing her life for a crime she had no memory of committing. Yet her timing was terrible. She had managed to say the wrong thing at precisely the wrong time, and the unthinking demon was beyond compassion. He turned to stare at her, a terrible grin languidly curling his lips and the fire of his eyes blazing with it's previous intensity. There was no sign of that single, interfering thought that had slowly begun to work toward an end to this terrible confrontation. It had been consumed by the flame.

The demon began to laugh. Cold, dark laughter that poured from his lips without disturbing the seething stillness of his form. Even the shadow lance whose point lay precariously at Serena's throat did not quiver as it should have when held by a laughing tormentor. It held no mirth, no warmth, no power. It wasn't even real. And that was the terrifying part. Such empty displays of emotion where uncharacteristic of Malevolos. He was not himself, and the demon he had become could not be trusted.

"You dare to cast the light of your treachery upon me? I, who have never used another in such a way?" The mirthless laughter resumed, then abruptly halted. "And so you display the corruptive nature of your race at last! Even as you face your own destruction, you endeavor to burden me with a similar fate!" Abruptly, the twisted smile faded, leaving his countenance blank of all expression save for his flaming eyes. Somehow, this could not be mistaken for a good sign.

The demon relinquished his grip on the lance, allowing the shadows to creep back to their respective places, and knelt in the blood beside the girl, as unmindful of the identity of the thick liquid as most were of water. He leaned in fearfully close, his eyes difficult to meet by virtue of their brightness, and, pulling aside his shirt where it had fallen closed over the mark that encircled his heart so that it was clearly visible, he said, "Tell me, Serena. Can your human talent of evading blame determine the one responsible for this? For surely that mysterious foe is terribly clever, since somehow I have been deceived that, even though yours was the only touch I accepted, that someone else had been the one to mark me." His voice was mocking, clearly convinced that such a thing was absolutely impossible and the girl was a fool for endeavoring to convince him that such an unlikely scenario could have occurred. If only he knew.

((*coughs* Part of the reason this post took me a while to write is because I was watching a program about Vlad the Impaler while I wrote it...))

[Seven]

She did not want him to come closer. She would have preferred being skewered by his shadow-formed lance while he laughed sadistically at her over him coming a step nearer. And how could you blame her? When it seemed so fixated upon her fear and her pain, so cold and detached from compassion in any form. In coming closer, she could only assume he had discovered some better means of destroying her. He was imposing, terrifying, everything about him, from his stance to his rich but empty laughter, to those eyes. The phrase from the previous night echoed in her mind again. So at last I meet the true Malevolos... But this time, she didn't feel pleased, and she certainly didn't smile. Even in her immense fear, she too felt feelings of anger and hate. She was the treacherous one? Ho ho---how funny, considering since the moment she stepped through his accursed doors, the only thing he had intended to do with her was use her! And now, feeling faultless in her crime, his words only spurned her more. If only she weren't so weak! At this point, she would have loved to have a debate about who should be called treacherous. But she couldn't, and any outward signs of anger in her were increasingly small, since her fear of him was that much stronger than her disdain. And so she responded with silence, not wanting to look at him, yet at the same time unable to look away from his bright and blazing eyes.

It seemed impossible to believe that just a moment ago, she clung to the same man first for comfort, and then in affection. And as he neared her, leaning so close to her once more, her body couldn't help but remember through the hazy quality of her mind what it had felt like to be pressed against him in such a manner. No, she didn't want him to come so close; she would have preferred her death with a respectful distance between them. Her body trembled more fearsomely the closer he came. She didn't want to be reminded of his intimate embrace as he murdered her.

As he knelt beside her, she managed to break away from the trance like quality of his fiery eyes, shutting her own tightly and turning her head away slightly, as if anticipating a blow. But instead he began to speak, and his voice, though mocking, still had that impressive dark charismatic quality to it that unconsciously brought Serena's eyes, then face, back to him. She stared into his eyes with wide-eyed confusion for as long as half a minute before dropping her head to look at his chest. And there it was, the dainty little target zone around his heart. She made no immediate response as she looked at it, still dumbstruck for a minute. And then she understood. She understood most of it, and suddenly all her anger dissipated, taking most of her fear with it, making her look a little serene again...well, given the circumstances at least.

Serena didn't go back to return Malevolos gaze, but rather remained fixated upon the mark, as if losing sight of it would suddenly send her tumbling back down in an array of confusion again. And then she began slowly, in an even and steady tone. "Forgive me....I now know what it is you've been so angry with me about....Prior to this moment, when I couldn't have understood your pain, I selfishly thought I was the only one suffering betrayal....." Her gaze suddenly left the mark and shifted to meet his eyes, and she said, "But I am not the one who did this to you."
Unable to stand the light of his eyes much longer, she cast her eyes down, as if reminiscing, "No...I didn't even realize it was there until now...."

Still, she knew he would hardly buy this, especially considering his last words to her. He was right, and no matter how sincere she seemed, she knew she would take the fault because she had been the only person to touch him. But some small part of her began to hope again, knowing that even though this was some sort of deadly misunderstanding, she might be able to redeem her innocence and save her life. But how could she prove such an obscure thing? Her eyes, still downcast, fell thoughtful, and in one of those few and far between moments in her life, she began to bite one of her nails, a sign of her nervousness. How many times had she proved nonsense in a math class? She only hoped that those same methods she used for proving those various equations could be now applied to this situation. Yes, this would be the ultimate proof in her lifetime, the one with the single most importance, a logic proof in its own way. To think, Proof or Die. She couldn't help but think that if she managed to prove her faultlessness by math, she'd never complain again for a single second about how infuriating math homework is.

She gulped a little, hoping her decision to use induction (in a sense) was the correct decision. One can erase the mathematical gibberish on a page if the method of proof turns out to be the wrong selection, but there were no second chances here. She could only hope to take what little knowledge she had to come to the correct conclusion. And so she began.

"I know my tale...all parts of it.... seems to be a wild one. I know you must think I'm a liar, and that my story is completely removed from the truth. But just for now, I ask you to at least assume the part of the bathroom to be true, if only so I can adequately show you my point of view...so you can see my insights. Like I said, I entered a normal looking bathroom, and in just a moment of closing my eyes, it was transformed. Don't ask me how I think it might have been transformed, since I know nothing of magic. I am going to claim that it was the perpetrator, the one who created this grotesque scene around us who left its mark on you.
After all, don't you think it's possible that this perpetrator, having changed an entire bathroom in seconds, could have just as easily left one mark on your body? " Her gaze became restless, jumping from his eyes, to the floor, and repeating, as if she were just barely managing to keep her thoughts in order, and her eyes had to do the pacing for her.

"Now I know you might want to say that this holds true only if my story of the transformation holds true. But I intend to prove this as well." Shrewd logic was returning to her. It was time to use contradiction.

"First of all, let us get one thing clear---you wouldn't think I killed these people, right? I never left the confines of your home, making it impossible for me to do such a thing, even if I had strength enough to murder, then dismember another person in cold blood. So there is at least one other person....someone to have set this all up. Now, you came to defend me after I screamed, right? The scream came from my terror---do you think a terrified person would have entered the room that was terrifying her so? Or do you think that, frozen in my terror, as I was, I would have remained just outside the door? I imagine it would have been the latter choice. You must agree that being as frightened as I was, I would have not screamed my lungs out, then proceeded to enter the bathroom and stand stupidly in the middle of it. So, I must have been in the bathroom when it suddenly changed on me, proving that the perpetrator has powers of transformation....powers strong enough to leave its mark on you as well.....

"But now why?" She became thoughtful again. Why would this creature go through all the trouble? Her eyes widened in terror as a conclusion abruptly came to mind, her mouth parted with aghast. Mind you, Serena had no knowledge of the 13, or what the message on the mirror meant, but she very suddenly looked up at him, her eyes wide and fearful again, but this time not fearful of him, but for him. "Of course....it meant to play us off each other....For me to die at your hands, and you, distracted, angry and hurt, to die at its. It is still here."

[Asila]

As her fear continued to gain intensity, the demon's cruel grin returned. Her terror was so potent that he could taste it on the air he breathed, a tantalizing metallic flavor that coated the back of his tongue. The whole setting was flawless in it's design, from the gore that graced the walls, to the blood that had pooled on the floor and reflected the scene on it's smooth, burgundy surface, to this frightened creature that added that last unresistable finishing touch. Like a decadent statue of frolicking marble nymphs, their craftmanship superb and their expression provokingly erotic, that had been cleverly placed in the center of a garden of delights. Tempted by his own twisted vision of sensuality, he leaned even closer, submerging one hand in the blood as he did so so that he was well-balanced, and beginning to reach for this girl, this delicacy, with the other.

She began to speak, and it took a moment for those first words to sink in. But when they did, he snatched his hand back as though bitten, his very nature recoiling from such compassion, from her forgiveness. Forgive me... He drew his breath in between his teeth, a startled gasp that sounded more like a hiss, and pulled away. As he stood there and stared at her in horrified silence, this desirable morsel that had been snatched from him, he resembled a large predator that had been confronted by fire and no longer dared come any closer. If a wolf, by instinct, feared flame, then he, on a level just as deep and twice as powerful, feared such extraordinary benevolence. Even her own fear was rapidly diminishing, indifferent to his fearsome appearance, his terrifying power, now that she had recognized how he had been wronged.

For a while he could not hear her, so loud was the roaring of his thwarted rage, but gradually her words began to break through the red haze. And in answer to the sound of their cool logic, the chilled breeze returned and began to extinguish the flames. Gradually, each singeing ember lost it's life, until, seconds after Serena's unnerving conclusion, even his eyes had returned to their normal, rich crimson hue. The only sign of the inferno that they had once held was the charred skin that ringed his eyes and the trickling streams of blood that leaked from the injured orbs that were healing far too slowly...

Malevolos stared at Serena for a while, as though unable to see her, before blinking slowly and bringing one hand up to his forehead. His skull felt as though it was shrinking around his brain. In other words, it was throbbing.

"You're right." He spoke the simple words tiredly, in a subdued tone of voice. "Everything you have said should have reached my notice before, would have reached before, if I hadn't been so great a fool as to allow myself to lose control!" This last he nearly yelled, and the effect had him wincing. He leaned against the filthy bathroom sinks, his expression oddly neutral. After staring vacantly at the wall opposite him for a few seconds, he suddenly slid to the floor, exhausted and numbly horrified. About so many things. Yet he directed his scattered thoughts toward the most horrifying revelation.

"He may very well be here still. If he disturbs us further, I will destroy him if I can." This said with a blank, hopeless cast to his blood-shot eyes as he continued to stare at the wall.

[Seven]

((*grins. Still feels strange about being called a "delicacy," yet entertained at the same time...*))

Serena returned his gaze all the while he looked at her, and continued to watch him even after he turned away. He was normal, more or less, again. Her fear was gone....but the anxious feeling in her chest was not. Her countenance became increasingly blank, but not empty, cold, or distant. Serena's eyes glazed over, as if lost in thought, the slightest twinge of sorrow and sympathy shaping them. And behind it all, indecision flickering like the light of small candle. It looked like she was silently studying him, too enraptured to wince at his yell, like he had.

She eventually broke the trance when he slid down onto the bathroom floor, her head cocking just a little to the side as he did so. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her eyes closing momentarily. He looked just like a beautiful fallen angel, right after his fall---he looked like he so desperately needed comforting; but here lay the topic of her prior indecision. Her contradictory nature divided her between her logic and her empathy. In her heart, she thought she ought to go to him, help him somehow, however she could. Her logic told her to stay in her place, to not speak to him, to not touch him. Even now, with that hopeless visage, some part of her hissed in her ear, He's a fiend! Don't do it! Yet she was not angry with him in the slightest. She was disturbed. She could understand his prior anger towards her, she could forgive him for the harm he did to her---all of these things were acceptable given the circumstance. But what of his malignant delight? Those terrible eyes that suggested happiness of all things, that he could have a justifiable excuse to do god knows what to her. That awful mirth, that devilish laughter, the way he reached for her with his predatory stance. How could she trust him now, when he had shown her such an increasingly inhumane aspect of him? Murder in anger, passion, hurt, disdain....those feelings she could understand. But she was not so benevolent. She could not forgive that evil relishing.

And even so, she could not shake the feeling, so much to the point that the anxiety in her chest threatened to explode. The empathy was torturing her in this way, so much that logic had to reconsider the situation once more. Even if he cannot be trusted...I cannot leave him now. He is hurt. He needs reassurance. Then malevolence in him is gone for now. And more importantly, we cannot be divided right now, considering there is something crueler yet still roaming the confines.... Serena finally picked herself off the floor, making her way over to him, then kneeling beside him. She disregarded the fact that they were wading in blood; what did it matter now that they were covered in it?

Now that she was so much closer to him once more, she couldn't but notice how perfectly helpless he looked. When she had first come into the Thornfield Mansion, she could only see him as being so much older than she was, despite his youthful looks. Everything about him had seemed a little surreal---the manner in which he handled himself was always impeccable to the point that even with his appearance she couldn't forget his true age. But seeing him like this, seeing that he too had flaws and passions and hurt, made him seem younger to her, like he really could have been just a couple years her senior, as compared to several centuries. It was the strange notion that they were closer in age that she thought---perhaps the best way to explain this is to look at the lives of a human and a dog. A human is still a child at the age of 9, but a dog will have already reached its senior years and be close to death in this short span. So in truth, their years are relative to one another, the human and the dog being able to both be adolescents despite the fact that the child would be nine times the age of the puppy. The quick thought was a bit of an eye-opening moment for Serena, who had until then considered him on some other, higher level, as compared to now, when she saw that despite the years, the could be relatively the same age. If she was 17 in human years, he was not significantly older in dragon years. Something about this was strangely endearing to her; it made him less icy, less distant. And so, her logic finally subsided to give way to her compassion; if she was going to give him a hard time about the occurrence of his evils tonight, it would have to wait till later.

((Sorry for the rant--I just suddenly felt inspired!!! Now onwards!!))

"Malevolos..." she softly called his name so that she might have his attention. She let her baggy hoodie slide over her hands, her fingers pinching the fabric where it had not been sullied with blood. She smiled gently at him, her eyes kind, withdrawn, like an ascetic from the world, from all horrors of the setting and of the notions of this event, withdrawn from everything except her focus upon him. "It's all right," she continued. "We all lose control at times, no one can help it....don't be upset...you are not a fool for it..." She continued to smile in that mixture of sorrow and compassion, trying to sound as a reassuring and lulling as she could. She leaned over even more, so she could be even more directly in front of him without invading too much of his personal space.

"You're eyes...they're bleeding..." she said in minor shock and paused for a moment, and then slowly extended her arm up to his face. The thought of him as a dark angel returned. "I can't help but think it looks as though you're crying...." Her right hand, which was still inside her sweater, pinched the area below the little piece of clean fabric harder, so that the clean part of the sweater would puff out a little. With a concerned look, she began to lightly dab his face to clean off the blood. She did it despite the pulsating in her left hand, the shiver that ran up her back, the voice that told her Don't get so close! She told those parts of her that she wasn't actually touching him, as she promised. No, she still had that notion that refused to truly touch him; it was in part because her refusal to trust him, part in fear that touching him would suddenly trigger those lusty dream-like events of earlier, and part because she feared that some of those earlier, compulsory feelings were actually her own.

"You should rest...you look hurt..." She knew if anything attacked, he would not be in any condition to fight it, and those thoughts were fairly readable. In one final, strange musing, she asked in a little disbelief, "Did I cause this...this suffering in you?"

((DAMN!!! Another long post! Please don't feel the need to write as much, you don't have to if you don't want to!))

[Asila]

((Hmm, reading through your nice long post made me glad that the inhuman portion of my mind freaked you out a tad. Revenge! ;D))

For a while, it would seem as though Malevolos hadn't heard a word she said. He simply continued to stare at the wall, still reclined in the untidy though gracefully casual sprawl he had crumpled into when he had slid down the cabinets and drenched even more of himself in the thick, coagulating blood. One long leg was stretched flat against the floor, the other dawn toward him in such a way that his knee was bent at a ninety degree angle. His arms hung lifelessly at his side, the hands vanished beneath the dull sheen of blood. His chin nearly rested on his chest, so low had he allowed it to fall. He, who usually held it high in either pride or disdain. He, who hadn't allowed himself to show a weakness for centuries.

Yet, however despondent he may seem, he was listening. He had registered her silence, and had heard her sigh. The soft slosh of steps taken through inches of thick liquid had not escaped him. Neither had the shadow that fell across him when she drew near. She had not needed to speak his name in order to command his attention, but he was oddly relieved to hear her do so. To hear his name spoken in such a soft, compassionate tone was a turn of good fortune that he had never expected or even deserved. His gaze flickered, the eyes seeming to twist slightly at the far corners, pained and remorseful. Surely he was a monster, for only a true beast of darkness would attack a being who posed no threat. And just now, he could not believe that this young girl with kind eyes and a sad smile had ever posed a threat. He had let his temper flare out of control and made a fool of himself as a result. And now the very girl he had wronged was trying to comfort him, the demon that would have killed her and taken pleasure in the act. Truly he was more demon than dragon.

In response to this self-deprecating assessment, his jaw tensed and his hands curled into fists. But he still didn't speak, and his eyes remained fixed on the wall. Just then, he loathed himself with such intensity that he did not trust his voice.

Of course, her comment about the state of his eyes only intensified the hateful feeling, and listening to her as she continued was almost unbearable. He became more disgusted with every word. Then she finished, and those last words were the final insult. She blamed herself. She blamed herself? For the first time since he had slid to the floor, he turned his fierce gaze on her and lifted his blood-coated hands from the floor, closing them around the arm that she had used to wipe the blood from his face. For a long moment he just looked at her, his eyes blazing with outrage, his grip almost tight enough to bruise. Then he released his breath in a ragged sigh and rested his head against the arm he held captive. He longed for her kindness, her consideration, her touch; but he felt that he did not deserve them, so this peculiar caress was the only one he dare steal.

He spoke firmly, though a faint tremor undermined the strength of his voice. "No, my suffering is of my own fault. You have done nothing wrong. Do not speak as though you have." The sentences were short and simple, but not because he was indifferent. His words had failed him. His regret seemed bound to smother him and he could not think.

[Seven]

'See? You should have listened! What were you thinking, you stupid girl!?' her inner thoughts hissed at her. She had to close her eyes, feeling too proud to show her captor more feelings of hurt and now of self-loathing. She could only see in him what he showed to her, so all she saw was his anger at her, and now his disgust. She had misinterpreted his feelings, and she was not so strong that she could bare more of his fury and remain tender. She was already walking the tight-wire, just barely able to balance compassion with shrewdness and reality hissing in her ear, and he had just pushed her, sending her plummeting down. And for all the fall down, all she could hear was, 'You're a fool, a thousand times a fool...'

The aches her mind had previously blocked out in adrenaline returned to her, the painful gash in her left hand, warm blood spilling down her neck, the aching on her head that came from her hair being pulled when he cast her aside, and now her bruising wrist. She was fragile and he had in fact squeezed too hard. These physical pains, now combined her internal turmoil, distracted her from his sighs and the subtle way he stole a touch, deaf to his words. Those nasty comments continued to pound at her heart, and only the cold, abrupt tone of his voice managed to creep in. She was no longer smiling, no longer looking at him, her expression becoming as blank as a white mask. Serena pulled her arm away from him now that he had loosened his grip, nursing one hurt body part with another. She slid away from him silently, leaning on the wall across from him, her face shadowed by the long, disheveled dark hair, making it difficult to tell if she was looking at him or not.

"I apologize again, for bothering you, and for being such a moron. I... should have kept my promise, shouldn't I have?" She referenced her earlier promise to never touch him again, before she turned her face away once more, continuing softly. "You needn't worry though, I won't disturb you again..." Her inner voice reminded her once more that he disliked humans, so why would he want her, of all people, to touch him? Of course he wouldn't! She wouldn't touch him anymore....Even so, the torrent of self-inflicted anguish continued in her head, the barage crescendoing to a loud noise that made her wish she could flee from herself. Instead, all that came out was pained, ironic, half-grin, more of an albatross that hung around her neck than a meaningful smile.

Her eyes suddenly glanced upwards, past Malevolos, back to the mirror with its strange note. 1/13... She had no idea what it mean, but she slowly mouthed the word 'thirteen' nonetheless. A thought flickered in her mind, and she suddenly found her inner voice quoting what had been told to her late yesterday: "It was safe here once, but dark things have been gathering within these past few days. While your benefactor was right to tell you that the Trinity would do it's best to protect you, he failed to inform you of their rival group, the Thirteen, who have just begun to gather again. These are dark and dangerous times."
At that time, she was not so much a fool that she hadn't understood the underlying implication of his words. He had told her essentially that the Thirteen were a dangerous group to be feared, a group that that would cause destruction. And as her eyes scanned the restroom, it fell upon the piked head that she had previously refused to look at, and she saw for the first time who it was. And she continued to look around, till her gaze once again landed on her dark captor, the man before her, Malevolos. Malevolos, her mind said in a Spanish accent, wondering who would name their child such a thing. And suddenly, she had the insane urge to chuckle, which she did.

"Thirteen... you mentioned them yesterday...correct? Made them out to be a group of dangerous villains....." She paused for a moment, a defeated, almost dead cast to her eyes. "You are....were," she corrected herself, "one of them, no?" She let out another sardonic chuckle as her ironic smile grew. "That certainly explains some things..." The nasty comments her mind had contrived about her uselessness and failings decided to once again reiterate itself, this time more specifically. And all the while, the need to laugh at it all manifested itself, like a madman pushed too far. "How funny--how funny this all is! Why didn't you tell me you were a comedian? What a complete joke this has all been! Forgive my rudeness, I would have laughed sooner! Yes, how clever---to warn me against yourself! How ironic! If only I had listened to your advice sooner! Haha!" She continued to laugh and cackle.
'Surrender, give up, give in...' a last voice commanded.

Serena stopped in sudden abruptness, the laughter dying and being replaced with silence, her arms wrapping around herself like a child, disturbed and abused. She rocked forward, her eyes completely wide, murmuring, "Stop, leave me alone..." to no one in particular. Her body began trembling again, in a most disconcerting way. And suddenly, she contorted, gasping in terrible pain. Her hands went to her temples, nails scratching into them as blood smeared her face. The sight became disturbing, as she continued twisting and turning in all sorts of way, gritting back the pain that still managed to escape her in the form of an array of sounds. She fought her invisible enemy to no avail and began to bend backwards so far she looked like she might suddenly snap in half. She suddenly shouted in defiance, "NO!" and forced herself forward again with a great deal urgency, and landed kneeling on her hands and knees, breathing heavy, labored breaths. But even that, within seconds, slowed to all but the sound of silence, a drop of sweat falling down alongside the blood. Whatever just happened seems to be over now, at least....

[Asila]

When she pulled away from him he let her go, though doing so was more difficult than he had expected. With every inch she placed between him and herself, the weight of the world seemed to bear down on him with greater fervor, so that by the time she had backed into the wall opposite him he found he could hardly draw breath under the suffocating pressure. His arms were still suspended in the air, still frozen in the same space they had occupied when his hands had known her warmth. Now he let them fall slowly to the floor. Now,once more, he felt them disappear beneath the dull surface of the cooling blood. Now he felt that last feeble glimmer of light fade from his eyes and he knew they had become as dark as garnets and just as cool as stone. There was just no life left in him. The breath he had been struggling to draw escaped his lips in an agonized whisper. "Serena,..."

But this dreadful inner stillness shattered when she began to laugh, his pride surging to the surface and vanquishing the lifeless shadows in his eyes with a flash of crimson light. Suddenly, he had the strength to stand, and he rose slowly to his feet. He kept his eyes fixed on her as he did so so that his chin, lifted as he gazed up at her, would smoothly descend until he was staring down at her. His lips curled back from his teeth in a silent snarl and behind him, his wings flexed. How he hated being mocked. How he despised the sound of mirthless laughter! A tide of rage as old as he himself was rolled out of the abyss, as sharp as it was bitter. And in his mind, the cruel laugh of a different tormentor echoing, always echoing, as it would no doubt continue to do until the day he died.

Yet it seemed this wave of sensation was quickly undermined by still another, for Serena's last sentence had brought about the retreat of that tide of rage. The tone of her voice and her frightened, defensive posture were things it knew well. So just as her mockery had brought it to the surface, her vulnerable stance banished it to the vault of memory it had broken free of. Now he was left to watch her suffer, without a thought left to give him strength, and he did not know how to put a stop to it all. Warily, he paced forward, not knowing what he meant to do but knowing he could not permit himself to stand back and watch.

At her sudden shout of defiance he flinched, though only slightly, his eyes narrowing rapidly into a fleeting expression of ferocity as he tried to decide precisely who it was she was yelling at. The only logical answer seemed to be him, but she was not looking in his direction. She looked as though she were fighting herself. When she fell to her hands and knees he moved in closer. He crouched near her, neatly balanced on the balls of his feet. His mistrust of the situation kept him just out of her arms reach, though his hand on his longer arm could just reach her. He rested it on her shoulder in a gesture that was meant to be comforting, though he was ready to snatch the appendage back should something seem awry. This entire situation was peculiar, and he was remembering once again that message on the mirror. Yet his voice was as cool and calm as he had desired when he asked her, "Serena? Are you here with me?"

[Seven]

She remained completely still beneath his touch, not moving in the slightest, not even for a breath. Her hair continued to hang loosely, once again obscuring her features. And everything remained still...

That's when suddenly, Malevolos would feel himself being thrown onto his back, landing in the shallow blood, and before he could so much as move, he feel an incredible force holding him down. Probably not the one he'd expect though. Serena, or rather, whatever Serena had become, sat on top of him, legs straddling him almost provocatively across his hips, her small hands holding him down by the wrists. She had moved with such agility, such power, it could not have been that of a human's. And if this wasn't compelling enough evidence, the iridescent glow of her now empty, wide eyes, was. How the creature looked at him, with such an empty, malefic delight, her grin wide and crooked, her eyes flashing with pleasure at his state. It seems that karma must surely exist, for it looked at him the same way he had looked at her just minutes earlier.

It was surely the beast who had set up this horror-film scene, the being he had seen in Serena's earlier wild gaze, the one who had toyed with him, and seemed intent on continuing toying with him. For it started to lower itself slowly, as if to lay its head lustrously on his still bare chest, pressing Serena's hips into his, and grinning still, it said in a cruel, flirtatious tone, "What's the matter, Darling? Don't you like me anymore?"

[Asila]

For a moment Malevolos stared at the ceiling above him, stunned. He had not expected Serena to move so quickly, her human body shouldn't have been capable of it, so the speed she had used to pin him didn't register immediately, and his retaliation was delayed. He stared into the glowing eyes, his expression flawlessly neutral for his surprise had robbed him of all sensation. Then the implications of the situation struck him with a roar of clamoring, furious thoughts whose outrage only grew in intensity when the thing that was no longer Serena spoke.

Her hips against his failed to inspire lustful desire in him, for her gaze and voice were both obscene and infuriating. He would not be used, could not stand to be toyed with, and he wanted to destroy this thing for the offense it had leveled against him. But this was a delicate matter. He could not tear the being apart, for he would destroy the human girl he had pledged his protection to if he did so. Now was not the time to be brash.

He would have to think of a more clever way to rid himself of this problem, but discovering the alternate solution, if there even was one, would take time. He had to stall.

"I wouldn't be so hasty, Dearest." He said darkly, the words resonant with undertones of anger that were at odds with the languid pose he maintained. "You can not know what I desire, and your intentions are unclear. I would like to know the thoughts that lurk behind your luminous eyes." Sarcasm, pure and simple.

[Seven]

The creature merely threw it's head back laughed. Shadows Malevolos could not control now held his wrists firmly in place, giving the creature free access to play its fingers tauntingly across his chest once more.

"Oh come now, don't be like that! Especially considering how insanely easy you've made this for me! Every step of the way, I thought 'surely he'll have gotten the jist of my tactics by now!' But you didn't, you over egotistical, self-inflated, selfish fool! You look at me as though I am such a loathsome perpetrator, but in all reality, you are you're own downfall! Even possessing only half of our kind's perfect blood, you have proven yourself admirable in your complete selfishness! Usually you'd have to be full blooded to do that," the creature winked, and then continued. "Why, your selfishness was so great, it didn't even stop for a moment to think logically! For surely, after the whole incident with your little human's 'betrayal,' you had to have recognized that I was still here! This girl even spelled it out perfectly clear, since your cranium was to thick to register it yourself. And surely, you had to have known that I had been in her body earlier---even a complete fool could have put that together. So was it that unlikely that I could have just as easily done it again?

"And here is where your foolishness and selfishness only increase! How easily you became an emotional wreck, how quickly you dismissed your human guest. All you could do was sit there, a pathetic sap, practically demanding to be pitied! How quickly you forgot that it was the girl who had endure the greater agony, how you held her at point blank with you malevolent delight after just moments earlier cooing her name! Surely she was confused, don't you think? And surely her feelings were as turbulent, if not more than, yours. Yet you did not offer one kind word. Perhaps it would have been all she would have needed to feel assured. An apology, perhaps, for her earlier vicious treatment, now that you realized she was innocent. But no, nothing came from you but your empty silence, weighing down on the room. Oh Malevolos, if you could have only seen her mind as I did! What a delight it was to witness! How she fought herself, valiantly overcoming all logic that said 'He delighted in your pain!' all fear you struck into her heart---all so she could help you. Poor thing, denied herself to help you, and how did you respond? By doing this," it said casually, removing Serena's sweater to make the large bruise forming around her wrist visible. "Perhaps what she said to you offended your 'feelings,' " it made air quotes to taunt him further, "but at least she tried, as compared to you. And then all you could do was bemoan her loss after you had chased her away! Wasn't that a little self-defeating, don't chya think? And even when she began to laugh, all you could do was think about was yourself, you pride. You didn't see that she wasn't so much mocking you as, hmm, going insane? And who could blame her, considering how you pushed her so hard? Even then, all she could think was how she must have disgusted you, overwhelmed with mis-placed guilt!"

The creature smirk widened. "So don't take that tone with me, Mr. Hot-Pants. You have done this to her, you were responsible, and you should have known better. You are the 'centuries old dragon,' after all. Even if you were disgusted by her, you ought to have remembered your own incident! It would have been for your own benefit to ensure she was at ease so she would not be manipulated again. Surely, that part of you which is demon howled in distress the second she said 'Forgive me...' If you had said that one vital, kind thing, you would have given her hope and happiness. And if you, half-demon could be scared away with one positive thought, do you think one such as I would have so much as considered inhabiting a body so polluted with such positive feelings?" Daemon didn't bother to mention this last bit was a lie. If he had been a demon, as he was playing himself of to be, it would have been true, but such things mattered not to devils. Still, he felt himself in character, and more so, on a role. He laughs again.

"Yes, how easy it was to make you break your promise! 'You will be safe here and spared from trouble such as you have endured tonight at my hands' my ASS!" it cackled mockingly at him.

[Asila]

((I was in the mood for pretty words. I am a paragraph poet. *grins at stupid joke*))

The dragon's body coiled when the manacles closed around his wrists in an instinctive, gradual movement that rang of violence and sounded a warning. It was that slow curl of muscles so rigid with tension that there was no give to them, yet they still managed to tremble with suppressed fury, like thunderstruck stone. It was the defensive posture of a poisonous serpent that soon meant to strike. It bore that weighted silence that proceeds a violent storm, for even now he did not speak. His defiance lay in his dragon's eyes, eyes that had lost every last glimmer of their demonic light and now expressed a more controlled rebellion, lacquered to a fine ruby sheen by keen intelligence and possessing as much depth as the night sky; no longer the blazing, brittle orange-red that clouded insight and hinted at impending madness. He was the dragon now, for the demon in him had retreated, beaten back by every insult that the dragon must now weather for it's mistakes. And his nobler half was furious. Angry with his demon blood, but incensed to murderous outrage by the game that this politicking entity had so callously played, endangering a being that he had sworn to protect in the process.

The dragon, however, handled fury differently. While the demon would have fought, snarled, and spat insults, the dragon's only outward rebellion was that peculiar tension of form and the proud defiance of his gaze. In comparison to the scathing strength of the fury that now roared just out of sight, these expressions were trivial. Nothing. They could not compare, for the dragon successfully hoarded his passion-borne energy and coldly calculated the ways in which he could use it. And he waited for the opportunity that was sure to present itself if he used control, self-discipline, and patience to his advantage.

However, the dragon could not weather so easily the guilt heaped upon him by the hasty actions of the demon. In fact, for this task, the virtuous being was poorly equipped. The demon would have blamed others for it's mistakes; it's current opponent, it's past rivals, the one who had spawned him. The dragon, however, was unable to deflect the burden in this delusional fashion because he recognized the truth in those cruel jabs. He could not blame anyone else because there was no one to blame. He could have risen above such trivial follies as temper and selfishness if he had only gathered his strength and confronted the problem in a calm, objective manner. But the dragon had slept, allowing the demon to reign, and the destruction it had rendered was more the fault of the dragon whose negligence had allowed the damage to take place than it was of the demon whose nature always tempted him towards chaos.

So the cruel entity who stared at him from Serena's eyes confronted him with the poor girl's damaged wrist and he turned his head aside, bathing it in cool blood that reaked of death. The dragons eyes narrowed in disgust, but still he cast his gaze aside, shamed and defeated. Still, his opponent continued to lay his wrongs upon him, singing those incriminating truths upon the tune of mockery, and the dragon closed it's eyes in agony. Oh, the wrongs he had allowed to pass so that he could continue to sleep! He had let another suffer so that he could continue to survive, relatively whole, fractured but not yet so broken that the joys of life were lost to him forever. He had slept so that while he dreamed hope could remain. How incredibly selfish and unforgivable his means of self-preservation. For allowing this girl to suffer so that he could live without the shackles and self-imposed agony that he deserved to suffer and endure he was not worth redeeming.

But Serena...

The dragon turned back to his opponent, who had been fallen silent while he had been assessing his worth. Proud defiance had defined his gaze when he had turned away, and it lived there now, renewed. He had a cause, and he would not be defeated.

"You are right." He began in a voice that mirrored the still intensity that his body had never relinquished. "But you are no better. You have caused this girl more pain than I ever could have delivered on my own. If I am her agony, then you are the weapon that inflicted the blow cruel enough to inspire it. And if I am conflicted and weak, then you are a trivial, petty being who derives all satisfaction from the suffering of others. You have no purpose, no cause, and so you strive to inflict your same pitiful condition on others by severing the ties their life had called upon for meaning until their was nothing left to answer. Only when their fate mirrored yours could you experience the dimmest shadow of joy." The dragon smiled, the expression as triumphant as it was bleak. "I may not be worth the ground this girl walks upon, but you have no worth at all. So assume your true form and destroy me at your own risk, not hers."

[Seven]

((Your words are pretty ;D))

The entity smirked a little, raising an eyebrow at Malevolos calmly. As a Prince of Hell, one of his duties had been to head the soul-torturing department. And every so often, a defiant one would come in, and childishly try to turn the tables on them. As if he would feel guilty or belittled by his captives--ha! Daemon chuckled softly, bringing Serena’s hands up to the side of Malevolos’s face, tracing along his cheek with one of her long fingernails. Something that would seem like a caressing action, except the pressure the creature put behind it: not enough to pierce the skin, but hard enough to leave red marks in their wake. "You are mistaken, Malevolos, if you think that I should be feeling guilty. This mortal girl means nothing to me, so why would I care if I inspired pain in her? Here, come see how little I concern I feel for her well-being." Daemon held Serena's left hand above Malevolos's face as a shadow cut across it, leaving another deep gash perpendicular to the one she already had, and allowed her blood to spill on him. "Your acts of defiance are meaningless to me; you are foolish if you endeavor to riddle me with guilt for my actions, and more so, you a hypocrite. You are biased because of your 'regard' for her, but in all reality, you have nonchalantly treated many other beings in the same manner I now treat her. We are no different in this respect, so do not pretend you are more "righteous" than I." It grinned maliciously again, withdrawing the bleeding hand from over his face. "Furthermore, your defiance shall invoke only more suffering in this girl you seem so fond of."

Daemon began to grin again, continuing his taunts. "But I must admit, you surprise me! In such high regard you hold this human, despite the fact that she is a part of that species you despise. Has it yet occurred to you that if she had not chanced upon your mansion late last evening, and your 'mission' had been seen through, you would have ignorantly been her tormentor once more, with no regard to her's, or for that matter any other humans' , feelings? If you think you are not worth the ground she treads upon, it is only because you have belittled yourself so much before her. You think you're thinking rationally, but you are the delusional one. Even what you claim of me has no justification. We have just met, so how can you assume I have no purpose here? Why, I could claim you have no purpose, your behavior constantly contradicting yourself to the point that you accomplish nothing. But I shall explain these words later, since I have one more point, one more question for you, Darling."

"Why have you let this affect you so, Malevolos? Why do you look so guilty? You're not guilty of anything, after all,. Just because you acted selfishly doesn't mean you have done a single thing wrong. After all, in the end, she’s just your hostage--nothing less and nothing more. Things might have been worse for her, all things considered—she might have ended up in another’s care, and raped and battered as a result. Well, you did give her quite a run for her money, but no permanent damage, right? Ahh, but, strange anomaly that it is, it seems for some reason, this has affected you; you do care!"

Daemon chuckled lowly again. "Early, you claimed that I only derive petty joys from creating suffering in others. You are mostly incorrect--if I have looked amused this morning, it is because how amusing you and your strange behavior are. In fact...." His grin became sly.

"For the wonderful show you put on for me today, I might decide to spare you both your lives. No catch—it was just that entertaining. But tell me, Malevolos-Darling, what will happen next, should I let you go? I am burning with curiosity to know how you will respond to the girl should I release her. No, not the questions regarding your violence, but your prior affection. Hm?” It cocked its head a little. “For surely, you are only her captor, and she is only your hostage. So what will you do when she invariably reiterates her question ‘Why did you hold onto me for so long?’ Why did you hold onto her so tightly, and whisper her name, Mr. Captor? Or should I say, Mr. ‘I hate so that I might not be destroyed…for I could have no weaknesses if I adopted none,’ Mr. ‘I despise all of humanity and my whole mission in life is to be their undoing.’” It suddenly sat up and barked out laughter. “Look at you! Tell me, Malevolos, don’t you think that your actions have been contradicting your words? She is your prisoner—a despicable human nonetheless—why do you care if she endures pain? Or…” It pulled itself back down, looking at him almost…seductively.

It begins again. “Or are you so starved for affection? Starved enough that any little caress will do the trick for you? Starved enough that after knowing a girl for less than one day, a girl you’re supposed to be using as a hostage, you are already longing for her caresses, her touch? Ha! I must warn you, Malevolos, that your state of affairs is surely looking bleak.” It began to run its fingers across his chest, in that exact manner ‘Serena’ had done earlier. “For you see, while YOU held onto this girl oh-so-willingly, her actions, her caresses were not her own; they were MINE.” It chuckled softly. “Yes, she was manipulated, just as she is now—those loving actions were not her own. She’s been confused about why she caressed you at all, but I’ll make sure to straighten out that issue for her, I’ll make sure she finds out I was only temporarily using her, and she will feel relieved to know she hasn’t gone insane.

“ But you, how embarrassed you must feel! You have bared your heart to a weak human, the very species you despise, only to discover that the feeling is not mutual. Your desires, in conjunction with those contradictory things you said yester-night, have made a fool out of you! And to think, you don’t even really know this girl, yet you’re already throwing yourself at her! You hypocrite! Ha—it seems your ex-rival was right! Maybe you should have just bed her and been over with it. After all, it seemed to me you were headed in that same direction TWICE in the past few minutes. To think, you would have happily had her right here, in front of all your fallen allies. So much for honoring the dead! Well, maybe I’m being unfair, so let’s disregard what you intended to do to her when you were in your demonic state of mind, since you don’t consider it ‘yourself.’ What of that embrace? Even I could see clearly that it was not just a comforting action, but a lusty one. Are you really so pathetic that you allow all your logic to be overcome with the slightest display of affection? You weak fool—if you were really strong, like you wish to be, you would have destroyed her weak human body already, to force me into the open, so you might destroy my true self; a strong person would not have been taken in so easily—but you are weak, pathetic in your plight for acceptance, for ‘love.’

“Oh, but excuse me, I’m going off on a tangent. So let me ask again. Tell me, not just because I'm dying from curiosity--no, I'll throw in a bargaining chip--tell me and I shall release your precious human from this possession and meet you in my own form. Tell me what you are going to do, when she approaches you in a timid manner, eyes diverted from yours, and asks you why your actions were so inappropriately intimate? Or better yet, when she asks you what exactly your relationship is now. Are you really still going to try to use her as a hostage? Can you even, considering that to be a hostage, you’d have to let her go? Tell me, Malevolos, how do you intend answer all of her confused questions; tell me how do you intend to handle this embarrassment of a morning. "

[Asila]

The dragon was surprised by the Serene nonchalance his opponent now displayed in the aftermath of what he had guessed to be accurate taunts. Creatures that incessantly strove to bring misery to others usually did so with the desire to uplift themselves in some fashion. Exceptions were incredibly rare. It was just like his fortune to confront him with the anomaly when he had been in desperate need of an individual who cohered to the rule. Now he would have to struggle to piece together another plan in the mere moments-

The thoughts ended with sickening abruptness when his enemy sliced Serena's hand. Her nails he had been able to ignore, for the slight pain was no more an inconvenience than the sun's feeble rays, and the mind game that had been the motive behind the gesture had been trivial. But this, this merciless reminder of his helplessness, his pathetic inability to stand between what he must protect and all harm that meant to savage each fleeting treasure, was a grievous insult that he simply did not have strength enough to weather silently. The fresh blood that fell upon his face snapped his brittle control, and for a brief moment, he fought. He employed every ounce of physical strength that he had not yet exhausted into an attempt to break the bonds that joined his wrists. He demanded aid from the elements that had always served him so faithfully. Yet the bonds did not break, even though he had applied such force that the solidified shadow had bit into the skin. His own shadows could do no more than flicker fitfully, lurching as flame will when overwhelmed by stronger winds before retreating into the small pools it had inhabited. The surface of the blood around him had frosted over, but ice could do him no greater service than shadow. He was too weak, and this moment's rebellion, mere seconds in length, had only served to make him weaker.

He relaxed his efforts, but the hatred that burned in his gaze was so intense that the dragon alone could not have fueled it. The hardness that sharpened the gaze was that of the villain, the fire contributed by the demon. So great was the power behind the emotion that it seemed a bitter shame Malevolos did not have the physical strength to match it. At this moment, there could be no foe capable of matching it.

This unlikely unity between factions of a fractured mind was a phenomenon that would not be forgotten by the one who experienced it, but under such circumstances it could be only fleeting. The presence of the dragon now diminished rapidly, weakened by an enemy's twisted logic, confused by peculiar demands and startling claims.

And then withered by a revelation that turned every current of passion into splinters of ice that sliced him apart from the inside out. For a moment he had allowed himself to hope that this non-sensical being, for whatever reason, had offered him a relatively painless way out of this madness. But if he had allowed himself to endure so much, to feel so strongly, for a girl who felt nothing in return, then what meaning did his existence hold? Throughout it's entirety, he had fought for nothing. For beings who had never loved him enough to endure hardship and temptation, for a race that would rather see him dead than alive. Behind him lay centuries of endless struggle and conflict, before him more of the same.

Yet that was the way his existence had always been, and always would be. Before, it hadn't mattered. Now, he questioned everything he was because a human girl had scorned him.

Pathetic, sneered the demon.

Idiocy, snarled the villain.

From the dragon...empty silence.

Malevolos met his opponent's gaze, the demon's sneer faintly curling his lips, the voice of the villain composing what he must say in order to regain his power, and spoke in a voice that seemed entirely unaffected by these meaningless events. If one ignored the hollow emptiness beneath the lively veneer, or forgot that the rich darkness of the tones had once borne charismatic resonance, qualities that were oddly absent now.

"Yours is an unusual request, and the answer is incredibly simple. Though if you are truthful in your assertions that you did enjoy the performance of this morning, I suppose the exchange is fair enough. My freedom for trifling information regarding my future actions in regard to a human girl." Malevolos chuckled, a low rolling rasp of his voice. "When she inquires about my inappropriate conduct, I will tell her that I forgot myself and my place in this world. I will inform her that mine is a long winding path composed of solitude and marked by destruction, the destination uncertain, that can be tread by no other than myself. And if I thought for a moment that it could be otherwise, that even the faintest ray of brilliance could ever light my path for even the shortest moment, the mistake was entirely my own. Companionship will never be anything more than a liability, and lust is an urge best tempered. I will tell her that her presence is no longer required here, that she is free to leave, for I have no further need of a hostage now that my mission here has been compromised, and there is clearly nothing to base a relationship of any other sort off of."

Malevolos had lifted his bound hands over his head so that he could rest the back of his head against them and study his enemy at his own ease as he spoke, crossing his legs elegantly. The message in such body language was pure indifference. "Now, if my answer has pleased you I would be much obliged if you would fulfill your end of the bargain and free me. This game has grown old."

[Seven]

The creature, no Daemon, grinned widely in response to this eloquent answer. He looked oddly...pleased. As if Malevolos had been cured of his temporary insanity. He chuckled softly and without another word, abruptly withdrew from the mortal girl whose mind he held hostage. Malevolos, on the other hand, would see Serena's expression shift dramatically from the dark sadism it once wore back to herself. The glowing of her eyes had been replaced by them widening as she stared down at him, in bewildered confusion. She had no memory of everything that just occurred, at most blips and faint impressions, so finding herself lustrously on top of the partially undressed, cool and collected Malevolos felt more than strange. A thousand thoughts and a thousand questions ravaged her mind, but it only took one of them to make all the rest desert her.

Silence...

Her eyes met his, wordless yet overwhelmed with more emotion than she thought imaginable, frozen in her gaze. She looked at him what, to her, felt like a short and very silent eternity, and she might have remained that way, unable or unwilling to move her eyes from his, when suddenly, she felt herself choked from an unbearable wave of pain. Daemon had certainly pushed her body far beyond its human capabilities, and every muscle that had once held Malevolos down screamed out in agony. The possession had been harsh to her. Her voice had made only the slightest, pained sigh, before she fainted from the sheer magnitude and abruptness of the feeling. The eyes that had gazed at his were closed long before she collapsed on top of him from the exhaustion. She lay on Malevolos, as though she were innocently asleep, completely motionless save the cyclical rise and fall of her chest.

From the time Serena had woken to that which she had fainted must have taken less than a moment, but it might have felt longer, just as it did for her.

After she had passed out, a new figure emerged from the shadows. Its silhouette was clearly that of a woman's. It approached the two, long, blond, wavy hair that curled towards the bottom, stunning ice blue eyes, and fine features. She was dressed in a red, woman's business suit which consisted of a blazer and an A-skirt. The blood parted where she walked, enough to hear the clicking of stiletto high heels. The woman was astoundingly beautiful, a center of charisma and radiance; even in her business attire, it seemed like she was wearing something extremely seductive and revealing. From what Malevolos could tell, the woman was a demon, like himself, in a human form. After all, Daemon didn't think it would be too wise to appear as himself for two major reasons: first, appearing as a Prince of Hell would surely attract unwarranted attention, and he didn't feel like having angels rain on his parade. Second, it would be more fun. As things stood, he would be viewed as something destructible, something relatable; if Malevolos or any other discovered his true nature, no one would bother---they would recognize him as out of their league, and what fun would that be? So he was a devil pretending to be a demon in the form of a human, but he doubted Malevolos would recognize this. Hell, as a creature who had spent most of his life in the mortal world, he might not even know the difference between a demon and a devil--for the two were constantly slumped together under the term demon as slang. Yes, things would be more interesting this way....

The woman finally stopped just short of the pair, and she smirked casually at the pair. "It's so good to know you've finally come to your senses, Malevolos," she said with calm collectivity. From her emerged several large shadows. They all sprang out from her circumference and instantly covered the room in a wave of darkness, and just as suddenly, they retreated back within her. It took less than a second, and in their wake, they left the room as impeccable as Serena had found it, perhaps even cleaner. Even the ceramic tiles that Malevolos had broken off with his wings were now repaired and in their orderly places. The only evidence that remained of the nightmarish bathroom was the blood Malevolos and Serena were both still covered in, and Reaper's head. And Reaper's head didn't last much longer, as the woman casually approached it, hand held outward, and the head was slowly overcome with what looked like a black, shadowy fire, disintegrating it slowly, till nothing but a spotless counter was left in its place. It too seemed to be a small show of power.

Despite it all, the shadows still held Malevolos in place. She turned back toward him. "I am a woman of my word, and I shall release you, but first I'd like to request that you don't attempt to lash out or attack me. After all, you'll find this notion useless, as you are drained of your power, and could have no hope of defeating me as you are currently. An attack would do nothing but anger me, and that might make me go against my word to spare you." She paused thoughtfully, mysteriously. "That, and I wish to speak to you like a civilized adult." These words might have seemed oddly ironic, considering everything she just put him through, but she made no mention of it.

((Wow...and I thought this was going to be a short post. Like a paragraph....))