Shorts

“Did you have to wear this?” Quatte rolled her eyes, “No, but who’s complaining?” She asked, her lips curling into a soft smile as she let her fingertip run along her collar before teasing at the top button. Une made an odd sound, a mix of a choking noise and embarrassment. She wasn’t normally one to go red, but Quatte in a dress shirt was certainly reason enough to make an exception. “You make this hard on me.” Une said, getting onto the bed on her knees a wad of satin ribbon in one hand as she crawled up along Quatte’s bare legs, her hands finding their resting place on Quatte’s shoulders, shoving the other reaper down, pinning her to the pillow.

“How so?” Quatte asked, batting her eyelashes, her voice light and innocent. Une took a deep breath, her nose twitching the slightest bit, for a dumbass, Quatte knew how to pick a perfume for the occasion. And a color scheme, she’d never imagined crimson red and deep blue’s mixing as well as her lipstick did with her undergarments. Quatte was irresistible to Une, and Une would most likely never let anybody else near the fourth reaper. “You know.” She said, her voice low and rich, “You know exactly what you’re doing.” She added as she settled herself, straddling Quatte’s hips as she got a fairly good grip on the other demon’s short mess of black hair, tugging her up to meet her lips in a fairly long kiss. It was broken only long enough for Une to glance towards the door. Locked. She looked back to Quatte, smirking. Quatte glanced to Une’s lips, before back to those striking eyes. She could tell by the way Une’s smirk hid something much more violently obsessive, the smear of her lipstick on Une’s lips, she’d be sore by morning come.

Une leaned in, trapping their breaths as she reached around Quatte, her hands effortlessly binding Quatte’s hands behind her back, just the right tightness. She knew how she liked it, at the threshold where circulation would be enough, for a couple hours at least.

“Now beg.”

“Fuck me mommy?”

“Eugh, no, you know what to call me.”

“Fuck me, head reaper.” Une snorted, “Dumbass, you’re supposed to call me love.” She said, wrapping her fingers around Quatte’s throat, kissing her as she shoved her down into the bed. Quatte’s legs flapped against the bed a bit as her heart fluttered. Une pulled back for a short moment. “What. Do. You. Call. Me?” She asked.

“Love.” She said, grinning. “Now flatten this bitch.”

Une let her hands run up along Quatte’s back before gripping her collar tight.

“Gladly.”

Kakò shot up, covers falling from her shoulders to pool in her lap as she leaned forwards, hands gripping the covers fairly tight as her chest heaved. Her back burned, the scars of her past itchy under the soft cloth sitting over them. She swallowed hard, the reminders of her past glowing faintly in the dark. She hated them. Oh how she wished she could snap those horns and cut her tail off, but they were a part of her. They'd grow back, and while the pain would be welcome, she didn't want to inconvenience the warm body next to her.

Beside her lay a rather diminutive woman, sleeping blissfully, a shroud of hair framing her face and blanketing the pillow like snow on Christmas morning. The coziness of the room they slept in helped calm Kakò down, her breaths coming slower and deeper as she shut her eyes, still leaning forwards. It burned still, she could feel the fire licking at her skin, the boring eyes as she was cast out. The longing look on Lucifer's face as she'd passed. She hadn't looked back, something she regretted, but had done for the both of them.

It hurt, it really did, her shoulders tensing and relaxing, arching her back in pain. She was never sure if it was phantom pain or magic, but either way it made her squirm. The vivid dreams and hallucinations that choked her at random times were infrequent, which only made them harder to get used to. A single tear made the pilgrimage from her eye to her chin, before jumping for the covers. She glanced to her side at the woman beside her, shaking her head again, vision blurry. She wanted so desperately to forget. To forget what gave her the scars along her back and the occasional lasting marks of war. To forget what she sacrificed, what she used to love, what she'd done. But, alas, her past was burned into her mind. Kay made things better. She was all that Kakò loved anymore. Her and cats. And chocolate.

She took another deep, pained breath that turned into a gasp and a shaky sigh before getting up, stumbling through the quiet, dark hallway, pushing open the bathroom door and flipping the light on to stand in front of the mirror. To stare into her hollow eyes. They were as red as ever, pools of molten rubies and blood, but seemed as empty as a wine glass with the last dredges that didn't quite leave the glass with the final sip. She sighed, head hanging as her throat got tighter, breath hitching as she felt her eyes sting.

If you were to make a list of people you trust, would you put your name down?" She whispered, the pen falling to the pages that resided on her desk, sprawled like corpses on a long-forgotten battlefield, words immortalized in blood painted onto them like overgrowth and flowers that sprouted from the bullets of warfare. She stared, eyes blanking as she seemed to find interest in something far beyond the walls of her office, golden blood trickling from her agape lips, dripping off her chin to land on her jeans, and from there making the leap of faith to the small puddle on the floor of gold that had dried time and time again.

Her back burned, her skin felt too tight and her ribs seemed too constricting around her lungs. Her back burned as she relived her fall. Truth be told, this wasn't a rare occurrence. The follies of having an immortal's memory, everything comes back to haunt you when you get lost in the sea of memories, dragging you under like an alligator. She remembered the last words she'd heard before everything went red, forever. Everything was dark and stunk of smoke down here, but she'd grown used to it, her wings painted with soot and blood from the remnants of the people who didn't make it. She coughed a couple times, splattering the desk with drops, before her head slammed down after them, her mind burning with thought. "Was it worth it, Evelin? Was it worth living? Maybe you should've just given in when he asked you to, you were and are nothing but a draft of perfection. A disfigured idea of what we are. Perfect. I'd say see you in Hell, but no angel in their right mind would fall so far." She still heard his voice. She still heard them, cracking the floor of Heaven to drop her out into the pit of darkness and fire.

She shut her eyes, breath coming short like 19 dollars for a 20 dollar bill. She sighed quietly, sitting up as she blinked hard a few times. She still felt the blade buried through her. It was as fresh in her mind as it was the second it'd plunged through her. She picked up her own, bringing it to the paper once more. It was time to continue illustrating the history of the wretched. From the ivory clouds of heaven, to the fiery coals of the fields. She paused long enough to pull up her sleeve and wipe her mouth clean, before continuing her writing.

The jaw cracked open, audible with it's bloody discourse as her lips split, cracking like pottery as she gasped for air, finally above as she stared back down into the darkness, the dark blue water that swam below her, drops falling from her hair into the abyss that stared back at her from where it rested. Nothing escaped it, for nothing attempted to enter, the dim light that leaked through the branches above not daring to permeate any deeper than an inch. She couldn't even find her legs, they disappeared at her waist, shrouded in blood-tinged turquoise that swam along past her. The water was still turbulent, waves disturbing the pond as she glared upwards, gaze passing through the roughly hewn hole above her, punched haphazardly through the tree crown. So this was how it was.

This is what it was like to be born of ash and flame.

She reached over her shoulder, before flinching, arm wrenching away as pain shot up her spine, lighting fireworks in her head. The wounds were still tender, burnt streaks along her back, the skin unruly and bumped with bone that rested below, messily folded and broken like somebody had shoved the bones of her wings into a sack with little care.

How... Tragic? No, not the word she was looking for.

How disappointing. Yes, that was the word.

Disappointing.

Foreword : This was written by Ryan, edited by me.

The same old dim and vaguely glossed linoleum floors, maybe with a newly cracked tile. The same constricting walls, paneled in simple, dark and vaguely rich wood, lit by sparse, yellowed bulbs along them.

Man, this place was a whole drag and a half. The worker block was always so… Bland, compared to the reaper’s hall.

“All these damn hallways...” mumbled Quatte over the muted clop of her heels, letting her arms hang backward in a particularly overdue step forward as she groaned. Well. At least one wall would be repainted with the delicious Red Bitters that Quinn had insisted she try the other day.

‘Cept it would taste more like iron than wine.

A long whistle pushed past her pursed lips as she knocked against the comparatively thin slab of wood as she came to a stop, squinting at the numbered plaque. 49831. She waited a moment, clearing her throat as she balled a fist and banged on the door a couple times. No response. Her patience grew thin and she shoved the door open, entering the room, the length of it dominated by a polished cherry desk that would’ve looked quite nice if it weren’t for the miserable sod sitting in the chair behind it. Her lip twitched at the sight of him, tugging upwards slightly in a crooked snarl before she forced a straight face.

“Who are you?” the demon asked her lazily, not even looking up from the paper he had pinched between two fingers, pen idle in the other, which made her all the more eager to execute her job. Quatte chuckled quietly, leaning against the door frame as she cracked her knuckles before crossing her arms under her bust.

“I wouldn’t bother telling you, You seem like you’d wear it out with one go with how tiring you are to look at.” Quatte replied, sticking a hand in her breast pocket, pursing her lips for a moment as she dug in before curling her fingers around something and hauling out a loaded AUG, light in her hand as her finger caressed the trigger fondly; she could see the barrel gleam under the dingy light of the room. Beautiful metal, a steel of some sort she believed, the comforting grip in one hand as she held it to her side in one hand. The bangs over her eyes looked prettier against the eggshell walls than left clear in sight with the chocolatey wood behind her, but no matter. She swept her hair behind her ear, reaching down to caress the spine of the gun before gently grasping the slide, pulling it back with a slick motion before pushing it back down the gun, a soft click signaling it was primed.

“Listen, hon’, I don’t know who you are—”

“Well I know what you are. Clueless fuckin’ vermin,” she snarled, pulling up the AUG to brace it’s stock against her shoulder, free hand grasping the barrel grip, firing a shot that rang out across the room, leaving a quiet ringing in her ears. She’d grown used to the sound over time, but oftentimes her quarry hadn’t. The shot had left delicate wisps of smoke floating beside the desk demon’s head, dancing along the trail and drifting slowly upwards towards the light from the barrel of her AUG. She smiled courteously, relishing the look on his face; now he was terrified. That wasn’t enough, though. Everyone needed to be terrified, and this wretched, contumacious lump of shit of a demon was a tool, a vessel, to ensure it.

“I-I-I—what do you want?!” exclaimed the desk demon as pressed into the back of his chair, suddenly seeming a lot smaller as he dropped the paper and pen, and Quatte couldn’t help but let out a long and exasperated sigh. Maybe he was trying to attract attention… Maybe he hoped someone would help. How quaint, perhaps it would’ve been more fun that way, she rarely had the chance to really crush resistance... Usually she’d keep it discreet, but after all, it was a request—with a hint of command—of Lucifer’s to really make an example of him, and she’d happily take a sadistic pleasure in it.

She left his panicked question unanswered as another gunshot rang through in the room, and this time the bullet really found a flesh target as the demon squealed in pain, trembling hands scrabbling for a penknife on the table and darting away from the desk like it could’ve done anything to save him from some wounds and a whole lotta agony. He stumbled backwards and out of the chair he’d been sitting in, a small puncture through the seat’s back about where his shoulder had been. What a waste of such pretty leather. She barely moved, still leaning against the door frame as she watched him scurry into the corner of the room, clutching at his shoulder with one hand, the other tight around his pitiful little knife.

“I could toy with you aaaaaall day, you dip-fucking-shit-caked asswipe,” she muttered, grabbing the open edge of her suit to put the AUG into her inner pocket, it’s lovely warmth disappearing with it as she straightened up. She rolled her neck, crossing the room with soft, slow footsteps, grabbing him by the collar with one hand, disregarding any threat he could’ve posed. Well, that was a lie, she had places to be, she wanted to get back to darling Une that evening. They had a date planned and she wanted a shower first.

As the desk demon choked on his collar, she had pulled out a trench knife, far more impressive than the flimsy blade the other was holding. With malice, Quatte slammed him against the wall, pressing the blade to his cheek as she smiled with a rather deadly charm. She drew it’s blackened edge along the delicately pale skin, beads of blood blooming atop the cut like springtime for the living humans, the end starting to swell with a drop that started to trickle down to his jaw.

“You know, you should really learn to quit squirming and be good, girls don’t like squealers.” She dragged it’s tip along further until it came away right beside his temple before she plunged it into his head, a herculean amount of force driving through his skull with a sickening crack, followed by a squelch. “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am. I don’t mind you making those noises—’least I know you’re havin’ some fun. Though they could be much, much prettier noises. You sound like you’re… Oh I don’t know, dying, perhaps?”

The demon only screeched in reply.

“Yeah, something like that, but you’re lacking passion,” she said venomously, twisting the knife and tearing it out, admiring the fresh sheen of red on the blade. Yep. Glittering Red Bitters. A spritz of blood painted her hand, much to her disdain which she wiped off on his shirt.

Still the demon struggled against her hold, and it was real fuckin’ annoying.

“Could you make my job a little easier?” She snapped, elbowing his nose and feeling her lips pull upward momentarily as a crack reached her ears. “It’s hard to play with your food if it’s squirmin’ around the plate, you know?”

“L-Let—let me go,” the demon pleaded. “I swear—”

“You don’t swear shit,” she retorted simply, slamming him back up against the wall before dumping him to the side onto the floor and stamping her heel on his throat, pressure building every second she talked. “You defy Lucifer, you dare fucking go against her word and yet this is all you are? An insignificant fucking stain on my shirt, nothing you swear on can or will be listened to.”

She could just feel the gargling in his throat beneath her shoe, a pitiful, wet gasp as he clawed at her flat, and it gave her satisfaction, but it wouldn’t be enough.

~

She felt that her job was done, though, when the demon was sprawled on his desk, ribs littered on the floor, ripped from the spine and still caked in viscera, intestines like thick, pink, ugly worms pulled through and wrapped around his neck. His lungs were punctured, and so was his skull. Multiple times. His sternum was ripped wide open, organs hanging like they’d been pinned on a cork board. Just like how she liked it.

She glanced back a last time as the blood pooled and dripped off of the edges of the cherry wood, smirking as she then looked to her hand, a small chunk of a coal-like substance pinched between her fingers. She tossed it up, catching it in her fist as she shoved it in a pocket. She’d leave the door open, and that would make a good display. His wheezing, wet breath was haunting, it would be hard to ignore when demons left for their breaks. She brushed herself off, glancing down with disdain as she tugged on her dress-shirt, a small splatter of blood on it. She could always just clean it off with a snap, but she felt like it would be rather disingenuous to stay in her work clothes. She pursed her lips, she needed another suit jacket, this one had started to wear and she liked the way the new ones felt. A refit couldn’t hurt anyways.

But right now, she had a date to clean up for.

She looked up, gently pushing the thin lock of white hair behind her ear, setting her fountain pen down, sighing quietly.

"Yes?" She inquired, the shape in her doorway still now, holding the door open to the side.

"I wish to see it." The figure began, tilting her head to the side slightly. "I am prepared."

The librarian laughed quietly, lowering her head for a moment.

"How naïve," She whispered, crossing one leg over the other as the table before her began to melt. The walls, began to melt. The floor cracked, preparing to fall away as the bookshelf and the chair began the only consistencies in the cold room they stood in. It deepened, the chill, the off lack of the ever present, crushing heat as the door shut. "Come closer, child. Or you may fall into it."

The librarian sat, a leg crossed over the other, her hands resting in her lap, a faint anti-glow wrapped around her as the ceiling fell away, a dark infinite around them, whispering inwards. She looked up, laughing, a deep, rich dark purple expanse stretching infinitely. Things lurked in the misty distance, movement warped as things incomprehensibly large looked on. The librarian just smiled, looking out, the small cracking island they had held them above it, the small armchair she rested in losing it's wine-red hue as it bled away, the color losing it's meaning. Lucifer stood on the edge of their island, staring out.

"So this is what you were talking about."

"It's beautiful, isn't it? You learn, staring at this for centuries, how small our world had become."

A cruel grin spread across her cherry red lips, a thin glint in her eye that bled a special kind of evil. A desire, fresh in those blood red disks that glared past their soul.

"You see," She began, straightening up to adjust the tie around her neck, cinching it a little tighter before letting it rest over her dress shirt, buttoning the suit jacket as she chose her words like picking out a shade of eye shadow.

"Being the epitome of your desires, your wants is rather boring at times." She said, the smile she wore widening slightly as her face began to shift, prominent cheek bones softening a little, jaw rounding out a tad, her button nose shifting up as her eyes lightened, coming to a pair of baby blues set into a pair of striking almond shaped sockets.

"Familiar?" She inquired, her voice dripping with a contempt, an aroused desire watching the contortion of her captive's face. "Don't get me wrong, watching you squirm is a riot, but it's not what I'm concerned with, babe." Seks chuckled quietly as she reached up, the subtle sound of bones cracking and tendons snapping whispering over the soft hum of hell. She pinched her cheek, pulling lightly. The skin sloughed off as easy as plastic off a new tv screen, along with her entire face, to reveal a bloody, shifting mass of muscles wrapped over a bony scull, a pair of small horns adorning it's top as the skull gave that same chilling smile, skin beginning to cover the shifting topography again, growing rapidly from what was left across the open tissue.

"Perfection, your utmost need for me is hilarious, but sometimes being a monstrosity is just so much fun. Being perfect all the time is drab, no contrast, I may as well only wear beige and cream colored blush." She continued, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves as her face began to solidify into a rather pretty one, short white hair getting longer, soon falling to her shoulder blades, eyes coming to be a piercing red once more, set in a sharp gaze, a deep well of intellect swimming beneath a cruel playfulness as her lips filled out, nose correcting itself to match. She was visibly changing, pursing her lips as she checked the watch on her wrist, thinning out slightly as the suit became a tad too big on her, hanging from her frame.

"Sometimes, being the monster, is just the nicest feeling a woman can have." She muttered, looking up at the man strapped to the chair, her mouth splitting open in a grin, her cheeks ripping, the skin splitting as tendons stared out her mouth reaching all the way to the hinges of her jaw, irides turning an inky shade of black, pupil turning a crimson red as she giggled, the sound ripping itself from her throat, crawling up his spine and under his skin.

"And oh, fun I will have."

"Heh."

A smile poked through the dark, all teeth and thin, longue tongue that ran over the sharp whites and dark cherry red lips as a soft hiss pulled itself from her throat. He tried to pull away, shove it back, stand up, anything, but he found he couldn't. His arms were bound, the rub of the ropes burning into his skin, the leather strap bound to her forehead and the cloth jammed into his mouth, jaw sore. The corners of her cheeks tugging upwards, a pair of blood red eyes pulling open slowly, extravagant eyelashes casting a shadow as they adjusted, twitching.

"You're awake. Good."

It was dark, incredibly dark, her glowing glare and the whites of her teeth were practically all that were in view, his eyes straining still to adjust. He couldn't move his head. He couldn't look down. He couldn't turn his head. A gentle, gentle hand grazed his chest, dripping with intent as her fingers ran their long, thin grooves into his collarbone, dragging down the rough cotton of his dress shirt, her fingernails tugging slightly at the neckline, before continuing down, applying but the lightest pressure, blood rushing through his temples as he stared, eyes frantically darting about as she giggled, that grotesque smile splitting even further as she tilted her head slightly, leaning in closer.

"Oh, darling please, calm down. I wouldn't hurt you." She said, trailing off as her voice took on a gravelly, dark tone, scratching at his psyche like a chisel, every syllable chipping away at it. That giggle again. It was sweet, bright, a fresh breath of air, but scented with arsenic, a poisoned apple glistening with a green hue, but the so crisp and tantalizing that you starve staring at it. Those fingers continued down as she breathed out slow, leaning past his view to drench his vision in inky hair, her nose and sharp cheekbone coming to rest against his neck, skin soft and warm.

"Oh you poor thing..." She muttered, her voice suddenly back to the rich, satin taste, smooth as chocolate and as warm as whiskey, crisp and every word punctuated, slow. "You must be so confused... So lonely, so cold, so scared... So... Pent up." She continued, fingering one of the buttons, before tugging lightly with a finger, pulling it apart, sliding along to work on the next as she rested her head against his chin.

"I can help with that."

She kept going, button by button as he thrashed, voicing his displeasure the best he could through the gag, pulling at the scratchy fiber pulled tight around his wrists.

"Oh come now... Settle down. I don't bite." She said, ending with a more... Teasing tone, pulling back to look up at him with those swirling red eyes, like a puddle of blood lit from the bottom, betraying a sea incredibly easy to drown in. He couldn't help but concede, his arms pulling a little less intensely, losing himself in the warm crackle, the fire, burning in her eyes as she offered him that smile again, finishing with the buttons before a sharp fingernail touched his skin, cold and terrifying, it's point all too poised to just push in and go through him. But...

He couldn't resist.

She laughed quietly, a deeper, rich one this time, shaking her head.

"Boys..." She roused herself, her finger coming up to brush against his skin, running teasingly up his torso, snaking along his neck, lighting his skin on fire with every inch she pulled it, coming to cup his cheek. "You give them a taste and suddenly they are positively famished, asking for a buffet." She shook her head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know, I once thought Moses a silly man, his story even sillier, but the old man had a good plan in that crusty skull of his." She continued, straightening up to stand before him, his eyes still searching for hers, suddenly afraid to not be embraced by her warmth, however horrifying it was with the knowledge it was burning him.

"For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why he banished his disciple from the one thing he wanted. And as I matured into a fine young woman, I discovered it." She said, her voice a low whisper in the emptiness, worming it's way into his head and behind his eyes, twitching and clawing at his brain, his thoughts, sending shivers down his spine. She reached up, he could barely make out her silhouette now, and grasped at her neckline, slowly peeling what appeared to be a coat apart, and then off, letting it run down her shoulders to fall to the ground with an audible sound, allowing him but the slightest bit of sight, his gaze hungrily running over the now bare skin he could see, the soft, pale and perfectly smooth skin of her neck, her defined collarbones, the gentle slope of her chest and the way her torso slimmed just the slightest bit the further his eyes travelled before her waist disappeared back into the darkness, black lace teasing him, egging him on, pulling at his heart and his thoughts, ripping them to shreds with the colorful ideas of what was under that bra, what was under the veil of shadow she wore over her face...

What her intentions were.

"You see, he was only allowed to look, never to touch, the land promised to him." She said, suddenly closing the distance, unnervingly stiff yet fluid, much too fast, her face suddenly inches from his, those eyes warm, burning, melting, like plates of ruby and gold hammered into saucers, filled with desire, a hunger for sacrifice. Something compelled him, tore at him, the longer he looked, the harder it became, his thoughts growing cloudy as his eyes flicked downward, staring down the woman's cleavage before back up to her eyes, the unwavering wave of the fire back and forth enticing, watching him like a snake, for him to make just that one touch too far of a move.

"I'm glad you're enjoying that promised land." She whispered, returning her hand to his chest, drumming her fingers along his skin. Her palm was warm, but each finger was tipped in cold steel, becoming worryingly more pointed, directed towards his skin as she continued, offering him that slight smile as the points began to dig into his skin, before she forced them inwards.

The pain was blinding, searing, tearing him from the trance he'd fallen into as he began to thrash again, screaming into his gag as his eyes widened with fright, twisting against the wood as she laughed, curling her fingers to wrap about assorted viscera, much to his discomfort, before pulling it out. It fell into his lap, he could feel it, warm, gooey and wet. Bile rose in his throat, wetting the cloth jammed in his mouth before he was forced to swallow it back down. There was no passing out, there was no early check out. She reached back in.

"I figured I'd give you something to miss, once I pluck those pesky little eyes of yours out. Miss 'fer asked me specifically to bring her those."

The hall was empty, quiet, a pervasive silence consuming everything within the gilded oak walls. There was but one thing that moved, something you could apprehensively call alive. A rather tall woman stumbled in, dragging behind her a thin rope of black blood, dripping down her leg as she pressed a hand to the warm wood of the wall, taking a long, deep breath, head hung. A pair of skeleton wings hung behind her, painted in blood as they folded rather limply behind her, an ornament, a testament to her sin. She continued, the door falling shut behind her as she walked further in, coughing quietly as she managed her way across the entire hall. This one was not marked with numbers along it's length, this one was empty except for the tall, heavy door ahead of her, marked with but a simple L. She shoved it open, grunting slightly as she did, her hand pressing tighter against her wound beneath her dress.

She entered, head low with exhaustion as the door fell shut behind her, before she paused, an odd glimmer of white she recognized still in the center of her room beside her desk, silently toying with an ornate lowball glass in one hand, the other pressed to her hip, the rather comfortable looking dress shirt and sweater combo no doubt sweltering in the heat of Hell. Perhaps she just didn't feel it.

"Ev-" Lucifer started, before a quiet hiss stopped her, The Librarian bringing a solemn finger to her lips.

"Quiet, child. I didn't leave my desk for idle chat. Sit." She said, nodding toward the imposing chair behind the desk, Lucifer's desk. Something odd twisted in her stomach, an ugly pit that boiled. Contempt?

"Then what did you come for?" Lucifer asked, her voice lacking of the usual at least semblance of respect, tinged with a violent poison as she stood exactly where she was, pulling her head up to meet The Librarian's eyes, her own glistening a deep red-ish orange as the amber light above them caught the thin film of moisture over her pupils.

"That's not important, Lucifer. Sit." She said again, her voice simple and cold face as emotionless as ever. Lucifer shook her head, her figure imposing in comparison to The Librarian, the dark of her dress swallowing light greedily as she tilted her head slightly. Her patience grew a little thin.

"I recognize your s u p e r i o r i t y born of originality in your domain. Not mine." Lucifer responded, turning her head away to cough into her fist, grasping her midsection a tad tighter. At this point, it was a matter of pride, her legs were weak with exertion. "Please, get to the point." She added, swallowing hard.

"Lucifer. Child. I came here because I knew you'd return here first. I..." She paused for a long moment, setting the glass back on the desk, folding her hands over each other behind her back as she took a deep breath, short strides towards Lucifer bringing her close enough to set a hand on the demon queen's shoulder. "I came, because I was worried about you. I see now it was, as usual, unfounded. Partially." She said, her eyes glancing down to the blood-soaked dress and the drying red all over her hand.

Lucifer scoffed.

"I don't need you to worry." She responded, her tone chilling, but with a small crack in it, the subtlest sign of warmth. The Librarian sighed, nodding slightly.

"Of course. Doesn't mean I won't." The Librarian asserted, her eyes falling shut. "I often do, I just never really... Notice a reason to express it." She said, stepping to the side slightly. "I... You are not alone, in being lonely, my dear. We both face that pain, I see it in your eyes when you visit me. Your... Our, mutual creator left you to rot, as he did me, and it's offered me the slightest respite holding you from that." She gestured once more toward the seat. "Come, sit down. Let me dress your wound, young one."

Lucifer remained silent for a long few moments, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she ignored the softening of her heart, until her throat began to tighten, her temples pounding as she bit back a tear, her stature and posture falling apart in seconds as she wrapped her arms around the diminutive woman, hugging her tight.

"Thank you." She whispered, as though she were afraid the harsh, cold outside that she'd carefully put together would snap in half if she offered gratitude too readily. The Librarian smiled very slightly, wrapping an arm around Lucifer, running it carefully along her back as she sighed.

"It's alright. It'll all sort itself out sooner or later, dear. For now, you will rest for once, you've more than earned it." Lucifer sighed, nodding just a tad as she straightened up, pulling herself along to finally collapse into her chair, leaning forwards as her wings folded tighter, slipping into the long, thin gashes along her back, deforming the skin around them and littering her back with odd, though symmetrical, bumps, which slowly seemed to begin sorting themselves out as the bones meshed back in, the gashes remaining fresh, as did the hole through her midsection.

"Angels are a pain in the ass, eh?"

The Librarian laughed quietly, "Be careful, dear. You were one once." She said, leaning in to pinch Lucifer's cheek. "Let's clean that up now, shall we?"

Seks leaned forward, a glint in her eye as she swirled the wine in her glass, pinching the neck.

"You touch her, and not a single one of you are leaving this room alive." She whispered, offering the man a gentle smile, straightening back up as she tipped the glass toward the center of the room, toward the woman laying on the couch. She brought the glass to her lips, kissing the rim just long enough to take a short, polite sip. "Your amenities are shit, by the way." She set it down, standing as she composed herself, smoothing out her dress.

"Pleasure doing business with you. Keys?" She said, outstretching an apathetic hand.

"Hey hey I didn't agr-" He started in protest.

"Keys?" She repeated, her voice suddenly dipping low, taking on a rich chocolatey essence as her gaze whipped around, the short bob of black hair shifting with the movement as she glared him down, her lips splitting into a wide smile of sharp teeth, eyes thin and black, less like eyes and more like slits cut vertically into clay. "I would hate to see you so soon in my domain, dear." She added, leaning in slightly. He shrunk back, relinquishing as he dumped it in Seks' hand. Her eyebrow ridge snapped back into place, her mouth closing once more as her eyes returned to their almond shape, big and innocent and a lovely shade of blue.

"Why thank you."

"Who's to say a man can't work a dress?" He asked, glancing at himself in the mirror, rolling a shoulder with a pop before it clicked into place. "Sheesh, they did not build humans for this, did they." He grumbled, adjusting the now a smidge tighter mouth of the dress about his pectorals, brushing off the satin red fabric.

"Honestly I rather enjoy the look." He said with a pout, before pressing his hand to his bicep, feeling the sinew, the muscle, the bone, with a peculiar fascination. "I think it compliments the definition, you know? Such warm colors and such cold meat..." He continued, relenting his less-than-careful exploration. It wasn't exactly often he got to get comfy as a man, it was something he could relish. There was a certain feeling of power, the same one that one might feel brute -forcing a math problem without a fancy equation. He could still work his charm, but there was options like this.

"Sure, but it's human convention to wear a suit to formal workplace ev-" Quinn began, adjusting her glasses a tad as she leaned against the blood-caked table she stood beside, setting her tailbone against the lip.

"Human convention is boring and lame." Seks said, rolling his eyes, sighing heavily. "But I guess if it's formal, I can find a suit..." He said, trailing off for a moment exploring the options in his head. "Hell, let's go for a tuxedo, it's danger season..."

The alley was tight, the thick shatter of rain against concrete bouncing off the tall, imposing walls that disappeared up into the dark fog. This spot had been on the list for a bit, and scoping it had already seemed like a bit more of a problem than they'd thought. The bartender was pliable, but one of the servers had an iron will, and a couple of them seemed to smell the scent of Hell on their suits. It was pungent to demons, not typically humans. She sighed quietly, feeling the cold and wet air soak down her throat and into her nasal cavity. A thin shiver ran through her, she was used to the sweltering heat of the under. Slender fingers picked a small box from her pocket, flicking it open she picked out a cigarette and the small lighter beside it, shutting the case to hold in her left as she pressed the cigarette to her lips, cupping it slightly with the case as she worked the lighter with the other.

She flicked it a couple times, cursing the moisture in the air, before it lit, singing the end of the stick as she sucked on it, pulling a few weak embers deeper in as the end kindled, giving her a slight taste of smoke. She sighed once more, pinning the cigarette between her lips as she set the lighter back in the case, replacing it in her pocket before reaching up, brushing aside a short bob of black hair, pinching the cigarette as she took a deep pull, picking it out to nonchalantly blow a small cloud to the side, setting her elbow on her wrist, other hand grasping her hip as she flicked the cigarette, watching the sparks float down before fading into the dark, inches away from her. She put it back to her lips, glancing to her other side, gaze loosely tracing the white shadow beside her.

The woman leaned against the brick, staring up at the edge of the overhang the two stood under, seeming a smidge perplexed by the curtain of water in front of the two, hitting the street and sinking into the gutters that gurgled with swill and grime. She glanced to the side, meeting Quatte's gaze as she raised an eyebrow, sharp brown almonds looking into Quatte's blood red irises.

"Your eyes are showing." She said simply, going back to gazing up at the rain, crossing her arms. as she chewed lightly on the inside of her cheek. Quatte rolled her eyes, taking a shorter drag, holding it for a short moment before sighing it out heavily.

"I don't think it matters too much right now, dear. I'll fix them if somebody comes out." She responded, sidling a bit closer to wrap her arm around Une, offering the slightest bit of warmth. Without a word, or even really any acknowledgement, Une silently leaned a little closer, adjusting to let Quatte’s bicep slip behind her neck, resting her head on the other demon’s shoulder. Quatte plucked the cigarette from her lips, moving it to the other side as to keep the embers from the white shroud of hair that tickled at her neck. Smoke idly rose from the tip, burning quietly in the dim light and the aggressive cold, until she took another drag, sighing it out and upwards, watching the small cloud build and then dissipate, bleeding into the gentle wind. She took it into her hand again, turning to press a light kiss to the top of Une's head, rubbing her shoulder lightly before pulling her a bit closer.

"How long did you say this'll take?" Quatte asked, voice nearly lost in the white noise of the rain. She looked away, off to the same point Une seemed to have fixated upon, putting the lipstick stained butt back to her lips.

"Maybe a week? Might end up more at this rate." Une said, relaxing slightly as her shoulders lost a bit of their tenseness, allowing her head to rest a little more comfortably against Quatte. Quatte sighed heavily, nodding a tad before taking another drag. "Hey if it makes you feel better, we've got a day to ourselves up here." Une suggested, the slightest bit of emotion creeping into her voice. Just a smidge of a smile. Quatte chuckled,

"To do what? Humans are so boring these days… No public executions anymore." She said, to which Une rolled her eyes, elbowing Quatte's ribs. Quatte snickered, leaning in again to kiss her on the forehead, holding her cigarette to the side, flicking ash from it. "I'm kidding sweetcheeks. I heard the cafe by the river is nice this time of year. Maybe we should go," She suggested, glancing down toward Une, whose face was still hidden by her hair, and the angle. Une smiled, just a little, nuzzling in a tad against Quatte's collarbone.

"Maybe."

Blood hit the ground, sinking slowly into the swirling nest of white cotton, solid beneath their feet as it roiled and shifted, every step sending puffs of smoke rising from it, the pliability a stark difference to the rough, solid stone and wood of Hell. Lucifer straightened up once more, a scythe in hand as she spit inky black blood to the side, grasping her weapon tight before faltering again, a wide gash from her side up to her lower rip dripping blood profusely. Wounds didn't close as quickly when made by these monsters. Angels, they called them. They weren't always bad, she supposed. She collapsed to her knees, holding herself up with the scythe as she shut her eyes tight, a tear running along her cheek as she resigned herself to her fate. She'd tried. She'd held back the wave, the reapers had left, taking the rest of the horde she'd brought with them. She'd stayed to hold them long enough. Five, maybe six of them stumbled towards her, tired from the fighting, one of them missing a leg, others with fingers and hair gone, long slashes along their torsos and forearms. She'd gone down with a fight, at least. They circled closer, like sharks to blood.

Then, there was footsteps. Not the angels, something lighter. They stopped behind her, until a soft arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hi, Luci."

The blood swimming in her ears and the fog around her vision made it hard to pick out the voice, but she knew it was .. one of the reapers. Nobody else would call her that. She weakly batted at them with a hand, waving the reaper away.

"Get out of here. Th-" She coughed, a spattering of blood hitting the ground. "This is my hill to die on. They need you." She said, voice shaky and faltering, something that never happened. Lucifer had never lost face, not once in her entire reign. A first for everything, as she meekly shoved at the body embracing her. The reaper leaned in, pecking her on the cheek, hugging her tight for a short moment.

"Veronica asked me to give that to you. They're gonna need you too, Lucifer. Take your time, I'll wait for you to get up." She said, voice airy, feminine. Lucifer still couldn't pin them down, until the figure stood, placing herself between Lucifer and the angels. Lucifer's gaze crawled upwards, painfully pulling itself along. Simple pants, sneakers, a sweater hanging off a shoulder, and a shroud of blue hair that sat on her shoulders, catching the light as it blazed, giving her quite nearly a halo, broken by her neck.

"D-Doe, don't-"

"It's okay, dear. Take your time." Doe said, cutting her off as one of the angels lowered their sword to their side, pointed towards Doe, before starting to sprint towards her.

Doe smiled, reaching out and twirling her finger, pulling a thread from the air. It led up and down, stretching until it faded back into the distance, a thin slip of purple and black along where she'd tugged it from. She pulled on it lightly, before pulling it down, and time shifted. Suddenly it was as thick as honey, the angel moving at barely a walk despite the speed of their sprint. Doe let go, the thread snapping back into place as she stepped past the blade easily, grasping the angel by the wrist, hooking her other arm around it's bicep, snapping the elbow backwards with relative ease before jamming the blade into its torso, shoving it aside as the next three started towards her, each brandishing a sword. They rose to swing simultaneously, soon coming down as they came close, which she stepped away from before just circling around, reaching around the first angel on the right, hands around their head before snapping their neck with a. guttural, slow crack, shards of bone poking up through the skin as she reached down, grasping the angel's hand as she shoved them down, placing her foot against their torso before pulling. The other two were still mid swing, only their eyes watching her in apparent emotionless rage. She giggled quietly, a soft pop meaning she got what she wanted. The shoulder came out of its socket, before the sound of tearing and snapping meant the sinew and muscle and skin were beginning to tear, before the arm came clean off, the sword still in its hand, which she held.

The closest angel redirected their swing to come upwards, which Doe blocked with the sword she was borrowing, flinging their weapons upwards before she brought hers back down, shoving the blade deep between their ribs, before dragging it across their torso as golden blood sprouted from the edges like weeds along a street. She planted her foot against their chest, shoving them off the sword before bringing the blade back up, swinging it down as they fell to cleave their throat in half, the spine peaking out slightly from the slab of meat left holding the head to the body as she turned toward the other angel. She'd gotten a tad fancy with the last angel, this one had time to start another swing, blade coming near as she turned, just barely grazing her shoulder, tugging at the fabric before slicing through it lightly, the slightest sting against her skin as it began to bleed. She smiled, dropping the sword as she walked closer, bringing herself to stand directly in front of the angel, grasping their neck and beginning to press inwards, thumbs digging inwards as the angel dropped the sword to reach up, barely making it to her hands as her nails began to cut into the collapsed windpipe, their neck crumpling under her grasp as they began to cough blood up, spattering her face with ichor. She dropped them, waving her hand casually as time continued as it had. Three of the bodies hit the ground in rather quick succession, the other already having collapsed.

The last two looked hungry for blood, even as Doe turned to them with an utter lack of fear, just that same soft smile. it goaded them, daring them to try. One lunged at her as the other came towards her side. She stepped past the lunge, a fist coming up to slam into a kidney before she grasped the angel by the hair, pulling harshly as she kicked the back of it's knees, throwing them by the hair on their back, watching them slide for a bit as she turned toward the other, ducking under the wider swing before reaching up, grasping an arm before pulling down as she stood. It sent the angel tumbling over her before she straightened up, watching the two struggle to their feet.

"I was always told how scary you could be." She walked over to the nearest, kicking it back down before slamming her foot down on its throat, crushing it with a splatter before turning to the last. "I'm not seeing it." Doe said simply, leaning down to grasp the hair of the skull, tearing it from the sack of broken bone and tendons, a tear accompanying its separation.

"You were right to fear us." She said, voice almost somber as she approached the last, struggling away from her as it brandished its sword in one hand at her. She said nothing more, kicking the weapon from it's hand before coming in close sitting on its torso as the angel thrashed, clawing at her legs as she raised the head, slamming it down against the angel's nose, again, and again, the bone in her hands cracking, crumpling just as the angel's face did. Again. And again. And again. A pent up rage bled from her as she swung it down repeatedly.

Such vermin did not deserve to touch her queen.

She would make sure none of them escaped without paying their price.

Soon she stood, spattered in blood as she walked over to Lucifer, who was now bleeding less, still kneeling in a pool of it as Doe offered her hand. Lucifer took it, pulling herself up before collapsing into a hug around Doe. Doe smiled, hugging her back, pulling her close and tight.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I owe you anyway."

She sunk deep, the veil of darkness pulled thick over her eyes as she felt an arm wrap around her waist, Quatte’s breath against the nape of her neck as she drew the bunched up bundle of blankets closer to her chest, hugging it tight as she drifted off.

The dark pooled about her, thick and shadowy, swallowing her thoughts until she had none left, before something peeked through.

Her eyes cracked open, a thin light dancing above her through the leaves as she stared up, the cherry leaves of a maple shifting with a quiet rustle in the wind. A long, deep breath filled her lungs, the air sharp, crisp, lightly christened with the scent of flowers and long-dried dew, uttering quietly to her as she let her gaze fall, running about between falling leaves before focusing. She was sat on her knees, hands resting in her lap. They were held by another pair, soft, larger than hers.

“Do you understand, Jane?” The woman in front of her asked, grasping her hands a little tighter. She reached up with one of those hands to brush away a tear, resting on the edge of Jane’s eye, brushing it away gently with a soft, pained smile. “Don’t you ever say that. You’re enough, sweetheart. You’re perfectly enough to me and your father.” The woman said, before pulling Jane into a rather tight hug taking a deep breath as she did. Jane nodded slowly, before throwing her arms around the woman, hugging her tight as tears began to bead about her eyes before she shut them, blinking out the tears.

“Thanks, mom.”

And then it was dark again, her arms empty, her hands falling to her sides.

“I miss you.” She whispered, before the darkness swallowed her up again, smothering her mind, letting her rest.

Don't go outside at the devil's hour.

That was the one rule.

That was the one, single rule, and guess which one she'd broken?

She looked up, the moon high, already having begun its inevitable fall from it's great climb, swinging along the sky in slow motion. She watched it for a moment, before her gaze tumbled towards the ground, gave dirt on her sneakers, hands propped against a low stone wall, sitting on the edge of the small cemetery. She enjoyed stopping by from time to time when she needed to clear her mind. She knew some of the names on the plaques, she would whisper to them sometimes. She could've sworn she heard them whisper back sometimes. The silence was thick and comforting, swaddling her like a weighted blanket as she sat, idly looking about, disregarding the odd sound of a stick snapping or leaves rustling, wind and animals weren't exactly rare after all. Up until one of the headstones moved.

It was a miniscule amount, but it had definitely shifted. She looked over, her gaze focusing on the culprit, expecting to see a furry tail or something peek out from the edge, some wildlife moving about to push the loose sediment….

Nothing.

She began to look away until the soil began to turn, sinking in slightly, until something protruded from the soil, a… Finger?

It was quickly followed by another, and then two more, a hand coming up to grasp at the ground, followed by another one, clawing at the dirt with desperate movements, It's fingernails chipped and snapped, beginning to bleed as it scraped and scratched and made disgruntled noises, eventually rewarded with a head that came up, stringy and sparse hairs dotting a gray, dirt caked skull.

She stood, anxiously grabbing her back as she skirted about the edge of the wall, keeping a curious eye on the grave as her throat locked up, biting her cheek to keep her mouth shut. Zombies..? Was it just some guy that got buried wrongfully? No, it couldn't be, that grave was decades old. It was among the few that had been there longer than she had, She continued to slide away, towards the gate as the corpse drew itself further out, now she could see it's shoulders, torn and bloody, the skin peeling off as it wheezed, wrenching itself up further with slowing arms, but still making progress. Panic ran through her, not as much as she felt it should, but it was still pervasive, seeping into her legs and hands, her grasp oh her bag clammy and tight, stiff, She continued, looking away to rush toward the gate, glancing over her shoulder before continuing. She got to the gate, practically crashing into it as she fumbled about, grabbing at the handle to fumble with it, yanking at the iron. It wouldn’t budge. She glanced over her shoulder, growing a little more frantic as the thing got out to its waist, eyes glazed over and blank, but its face undeniably pointed towards her. Its mouth hung open, jaw barely connected anymore as it wheezed, pulling weak breaths in and out. It looked like it would be groaning, if its throat wasn’t rotting through. It reorientated itself in the dirt, twisting towards her as it pulled at the ground. She glanced back at it, before shaking her head. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. She yanked hard on the gate, and it didn’t even make a sound, frozen in place. She let out a shaky breath, tossing her bag over the short wall, hopping up to sit on it before swinging her legs ove-

Her legs came into contact with something that felt like a floor with a short puddle over it, if the puddle was warm. She pressed against it, throwing her elbow against it. The impact sunk into it slightly, before it rudely shoved back. It looked like air, there was nothing there. She could see out just fine. She punched the invisible wall, glancing back toward the… "Zombie," watching it pull itself out of the grave and to its legs, pulling itself to its feet, orienting itself as she turned, dropping to her feet to crouch down, grasping her bag to her chest. It probably knew exactly where she was, but she could leap away a little easier this way. It turned towards her. Okay. It knew where she was.

She abandoned the weak rationalization, standing up and grasping her bag by the handle, prepared to swing it. The valuables inside meant very little if she didn't leave. Her hands were clammy, shaking as she grasped the bag with a zealous tightness, glaring down the corpse. It started stumbling towards her, anticlimactically slow. Guess without the crowd part zombies were pretty overrated… She sighed quietly, it was no less disturbing, but it was a little less terrifying if she knew she could just out-walk it. Find a way out. She watched anxiously as it approached the center of the cemetery, halfway to her, before its stature changed. It crouched slightly, shoulders rolling in as it cracked it's neck back and forth, empty eyes in her direction as its jawless grimace opened wider, before sprinting towards her, clearing the distance in mere seconds, jumping towards her to reach out with disgusting, bloody and broken claws, her arms freezing up as she screamed, pulling backwards as she tried desperately to get her arms to swing the bag up. Too late.

She felt a dirt and grime covered finger touch her neck, eyes shutting, before a crack echoed out, her eyes opening again as she fell back, catching a blur fly past. A person, their knee slamming into the temple of the corpse which crumpled over as they landed on the other side of the corpse, sliding to a stop before straightening up. The moonlight hit the pitch black outline, tracing along a thin beak, up to a pair of glassy eyes. A plague doctor mask? The cowl, the hat, the coat, the skirt, all pitch black and thick. In its hands it held two pairs of scissors with gloves, blades downwards as it walked towards the zombie now on the floor, snapping idly as its limbs flailed for a moment before planting back into the ground, beginning to shove itself up. The figure stomped on its back, pinning it back to the ground with another couple cracks, no doubt rotting ribs snapping with the impact.

"Did it get you?" The "doctor" asked, glancing up to her. She shifted back slightly, the muffled voice a little disconcerting with the question. She shook her head, a hand shooting up to cautiously examine her neck, just some slime and dirt, her skin yet to be broken. The figure nodded, stepping off the corpse before crouching down, jamming a scissor in the back of its neck, before splitting the skin along it, snipping into the thick layer of muscle like paper, plunging a gloved hand in to grasp the spinal cord, wrenching it sideways with a guttural snap. It sighed quietly, taking their scissor back, straightening up to slip both scissors into their pocket, stomping a boot on its head, which had continued its windless snarling. It stopped, brain splattering about the dirt. The figure reached up, taking off the hat to press it to its chest, giving her a short bow. "Enjoy your night, please leave now. Tell nobody of what you saw here, or I will find you." The figure said, voice… Apathetic, vaguely British, tone hard to make out with the muffling. She nodded, grasping her bag tighter as she slid backwards, getting to her feet slowly with eyes on the plague doctor, before whipping around to run to the gate, it opening easily now as she blasted through it to sprint down the path home.