The Deal (Closed for WhisperedDesires)

[WhisperedDesires]

Her question sent the demon into a contemplative silence, mind reaching back through memories rarely delved in search of an answer. Certainly not anywhere within the last few centuries, though he'd spend large portions of what could be considered "centuries" within the depths of hell. Time was rarely so straightforward or fluid when it came to places beyond the mortal realm. He hadn't partaken of lust the last time he'd visited the mortals, nor the time before that. Farther back, even for a demon, memory began to get fuzzy, at least regarding unimportant details and little things. At the very least, he could say with absolute surety that he'd have indulged like he had with her...

"Centuries ago, with a noble woman. One of their cults, messing with forces they didn't understand, called upon me. They wished to commune with the spirits of war and rage, be granted power by sacrificing a woman who'd be infused with my essence. They bargained their souls for the act, didn't know that's not how that such things work, and were summarily damned for their folly. Funnily enough the woman herself survived, as she'd made no bargain with me. She was so far gone within whatever ritualistic herb they'd fed her it would be a wonder if she really knew what was going on at all."

The memory, blurry as it was within his own mind, still managed to bring a subtle smile to his lips. They had thought they could outsmart him, but some cult run by what amounted to modern day rich kids looking for a cheat to fame and fortune had been ill prepared to free themselves of his webs. He might have had a hand in guiding them to their... wrongly assumed conclusions, but he'd enjoyed the experience itself well enough, and even more had he enjoyed relieving the upstarts of their souls.

Anytime before that began to grow to fuzzy to remember, at least in regard to such dull things as sex. Primal lust was not a sin that he usually was called upon to utilize, that being the purview of Lilith's children after her own fall from grace. Before her fall would have been the most prolific time for such things, even for him, as the demons held full sway over the seven sins and, as the angels fought themselves, the legions of hell could essentially do as they pleased without heaven's interference. An interesting time, some would say a better time for hell's denizens. Perhaps so, but there had been no challenge to things then, no fun in hunting prey that could hardly fight back.

"What of you? How long has it been since you slaked your lusts?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Silence was good; at least in humans, it meant that serious thought was being given to what was asked. And apparently the same went for demons, as she listened to his story with some, but not, full interest. Rather than the story itself, she was shifting, mining his words for anything, anyone, that could pose a threat to the shaky claim that she felt she’d already laid on him. Ah - there it was, some semblance of soothing for her pride. It had taken a team and a sacrifice to call him previously. This time, it was only her, and the force of her will, and her own very tainted blood.

“I’m surprised you came at all,” humor eased back into her voice as she mindlessly flicked at the water with her fingertips. “I’m hardly a team of people.” And it went without saying that she was no virgin sacrifice - that had been given to a much more mundane god: Boredom. Then, there was no illusions of romance, just the pressing feeling of wanting to get rid of something unwanted. As necessary as buying a new rug; some things just needed to be done. And if she’d done them on her own terms, well, that meant less meddling from others in the future. Without her virginity, she was no longer something to be bargained for. “Did you enjoy it?” There was the knife sliding between the ribs; the purpose of her asking to begin with. Had he lost himself with that noblewoman as he had with her?

Then, his question, and she laughed, starting strong before turning raucous. The harder she laughed, the easier it would be to forget the last circumstances, to be reminded of the one who’d been the cause of her current situation. All the same, might as well talk about it. Give the feelings form, cast them out into the universe to die. “About two weeks before I summoned you. We weren’t what you’d call ‘dating.’ Or ‘courting.’” But they had been friends; someone that she felt that, in its horribly corny way, had been as close to a soulmate as real life could bring. “He was the kind of person that I literally thought I was lucky, really and truly lucky, that I found in this world. When you think about it, what’s the likelihood of finding someone, anyone, that you can feel that you’re on the same wavelength as?” She looked up at him, begging him to laugh, to scoff at her silliness. Do anything but take her seriously. “He’s actually the reason why you’re here. I couldn’t stand the loneliness anymore.”

If she could have bit her tongue off and cast it away, she would have. She’d said too much; she’d assumed that she was no longer still addled by the fucking from before, but she was wrong. Her face didn’t burn from embarrassment - instead…she felt a profound sense of nothing, that deep yawning abyss of despair, of suddenly having solid ground yanked from beneath her that had so dogged her days leading up to Marlow’s summoning. A reminder of the great nothingness that had spurred her to such desperate odds. The nothingness that still lapped at her heels, insatiable, having been brought so high only to be dropped so low.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"You are far more entertaining, far more compelling, than a gaggle of nobles too caught up in delusions and misinformation to be of any interest. That you toyed with the lessers was a welcome distraction to the tedious nature of eternal life. As for enjoying it, I don't think anyone enjoys having their life interrupted rather unceremoniously by strange men playing in their basement." His tone suggested he knew what she was actually asking about, or at least suspected, but he made little indication beyond that, carrying on as if he'd missed it entirely. "I would imagine tearing their souls from their mortal bodies was amusing enough, but I'd hardly call it the most enjoyable of tasks."

Her response to his question was... unexpected. He'd assumed something had happened to force her rather unusual bout of brazen summoning. Most didn't jump from imps and dredges to the greater demons of hell. Still, even then, he could see the flame of her soul dim at whatever memories had been stirred, the way her body language seemed to grow distant, where before it was almost relaxed. But this was a fault in her otherwise impregnable armor, a sore spot that could be poked and prodded. Perhaps he would do so, at some later date. For now, it was enough that he knew of it.

"Is he then? Perhaps I shall visit him, thank him for his contribution to our meeting before I tear his soul from his body. To think, without him, you'd not have graced me with your summons, pulled me from the depths of the abyss and bound yourself in contract to me. Why, I'd be wasting away within the hell still. What a terrifying thought, being without the endless amusement of the mortal realm for another century until someone stumbled across a proper text on demonology."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Her first response was snorted laughter. She’d read about the flattery of demons, and to hear such honeyed words coming from him was truly amusing. Should she give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he was being truthful? No, that would be too easy, and the last thing she wanted to do was make it easy on him - or on herself. She was perpetually caught between the ‘rock’ : the rush of wanting to live in the moment; there was no grand future for her, so why bother planning, of thinking beyond the instant, and the ‘hard place’ of being more thoughtful, of slowing down to avoid making further mistakes. Or any mistake, for that matter.

When he spoke so causally of damming the past love, she simply shook her head. “Maybe I thought that at the moment.” A change of body posture; a pulling in. Drawing her legs to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them to rest her chin on her knees. Not that she would expect him to be thankful to her as an individual - but just as he said, a release from boredom. And she couldn’t fault him there; it was boredom that had spurred her to call her first imp, a ‘let’s see what will happen.’ “No reason to contact him.” It hurt, still - enough so that she felt like crying, but swallowed the lump in her throat, willing for that cool nothingness of despair to sweep back any other emotion. Despair she could manage. Or at least fool herself into thinking that she could.

Had this past lover known of her abilities? Of course; she’d told him, was as open with him, more open than she’d been with anyone else. And that’s part of what galled her - that injury buried beneath the pain. That he knew that she could have easily dammed his soul, made him suffer in the most eloquent of ways, beyond the imaginings of even the most depraved human, and yet, he also knew her well enough to know that she would never do so, no matter how much she was hurt, no matter what he said. And not for the first time, she would curse her own stupidity, her better nature, that didn’t allow her to be truly petty. And now, looking at Marlow, she realized that with his summoning, she’d come the closest she’d ever been to going against her nature. The fact that he was there was proof that her lover had wounded her deeply, deeply enough that she acted rashly. “Though I think he’d be surprised to see you. I don’t think he would have thought that I would have summoned a demon because of him.”

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"Most do not. Surely, nothing I ever did could cause someone to reach across the folds of space, time and dimensional void to pull through a being capable of undoing the fabric of reality with a mere thought? It is always so surprising to see a human react when I've been called upon to enact vengeance. But if you say the man is to be left alone, I suppose I must. If you should ever change your mind, feel free to let me know, I'll cook up something truly exquisite for him."

It was, judging by the tone, an offer he fully intended to see through, should she ever pursue it. About the closest thing he could, as a demon, consider being 'helpful' or doing her a favor. Even then, it was said in the offhand way the said he was quickly loosing interest in the topic, for if they were leaving the man alone, he was apparently of little consequence beyond being the catalyst for their meeting. He'd performed his task, and if they weren't going to punish him for it, then anything else to do with him was pointless. Instead, the demon began examining the various bottles of soaps and shampoos and conditioners, occasionally picking one up to inspect it more closely. It was a wonder how quickly human companies faltered, failed and were replaced. Or why they had set about putting liquids in bottles, replacing the need for soap bars entirely.

"Perhaps we should see about making him jealous then, for if he's the cause for my calling, then why not simply show him he has done you no true harm? You've obviously found a superior lover-" And there, breaking through his usually calm tone, a hint of pride, of ego, "- and surely that would be aggravating for any mortal man, to know that he has been easily replaced. Or perhaps we simply ignore him entirely, and set about the task of cleaning ourselves. As much as one might enjoy lounging in the water, I doubt it will retain its heat forever, given the physical laws of your world."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Huh.

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. It was…kind. It was a kind thing for him to say. Feeling quite lightheaded, she pressed her chin harder into her knees, looking for something to ground her. But she couldn’t help it - she laughed. It was a true sound, bubbling from her stomach, wiping away, even for a moment, all of that doubt and hurt and pain. Then, she reached out, and placed a hand on the side of his face again. All too intimate for such a simple thing that he’d said, and truly, she should have touched his knee beneath the water. But like the strange circumstances that had brought him to her, this felt…like it was the right thing to do.

“That’s kind of you,” and she lurched forward in the tub, sliding her body through the water to lay neatly between his legs, her breasts against his lower stomach, her chin reaching to his chest. “But it would be a waste.” The reason? She’d cut all communications - and had gone back and re-traced her tracks, over and over, to make sure that she had no means of contacting him. He could contact her - and the fact that he hadn’t made the sting hurt all the more. “If I’m not worth reaching out to for him, despite all that was said, well, then, it’s only fair for me to do the same.” And all she could do was smile a little, moving back from him to the opposite end of the tub again.

She watched him study the bottles, picking them up, careful to set them down where he’d found them. Her vice was showing; she had an inordinate amount of bath supplies - salts, powders, oils. In theory, she should be preparing to soap up, but she was still processing what he’d said - trying to pick them apart, searching hungrily for any insincerity.

Then he spoke about his sexual prowess - and she was gliding back through the water to him, laughing a bit. “You’re not lying there. The best I’ve ever had.” There was no lies with her; nothing but blatant sincerity, further stressed as she ran her fingers up the smooth plane of his thigh. Her cunt was still sore, and hissed in protest at her at the thought of entertaining another romp with him, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t touch him. Or do other things. Perhaps he had more to show her than she thought she’d seen or knew. That was…intriguing. “But you are right about the water. But…I don’t mind being a bit cold.”

 

[WhisperedDesires]

Her touch, though slowly becoming something of a staple, was also just as quick to continue to catch him off guard. This time, his attention focused on the bottles, it came completely unexpectedly, and rather than examine the action for some hidden motive, it simply forced his attention back to her. This only led to him noticing the way she laid herself across his body, the feel of her breasts pillowing against his stomach, her gaze from below him seemingly innocuous, yet tantalizing. Whether she realized it or not, his lust was not gone, only sated, and for a demon bound to the great sins, reveling in them by its mere existence, she was doing in excellent job in fanning the flames once more. Still, he'd far more control now that the primal essence of his being wasn't being tugged on by instinctual urges and blind pain fueled lust of his mortal companion. Enough, at least, to keep himself from pushing for more, at least for now.

That moments later she was touching him, fingers gliding along his inner thigh, words stroking the demonic pride he held within, was much less helpful to keeping control of himself. Essence demanded action, and beneath her ministrations, unintentional they might be, he could feel himself reacting beneath the water, hardening at the thoughts she'd called forth within his mind. Her body may be weakened from their earlier activities, but she was recovering quickly, and with a little magical assistance, she'd be back on her feet even faster... not to mention, he had promised himself that her lips would be sealed around him at some point...

Rational thought continued to win out, pushing desires down, but to an outside observer, the fire in his eyes was beginning to burn again, and there was a certain tense, charged feeling in the air around him as he wrestled down the call of lust. He focused, purposefully, upon the words she was speaking, trying find some way to turn his attention away from her actions. Cleaning, they were here to make themselves clean.

"I'm certain, given the inclination, that you could lounge rather expertly for hours within the waters of a bath, cold or no. But I do recall the need to wash in order to achieve the ultimate goal of being clean." Then, the subtle working of the demonic mind, the tug of lust and desire. "If you're still too weak, I'm sure one could deign to allow a lowly demons hands upon you."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Oh, yes, my strength - you’ve made it leave my body. Just the sight of you…” Teasing over the kernel of truth. Her fingers ran down the line of his thigh, down to his calf, then back to his knee, a casual touch, a sussing out of the body in front of him. Now that she could let herself be a bit more…something, act on that jealousy, bury it, fool herself into thinking that he wanted her. But maybe there wasn’t much fooling to be had. Surely if she asked him, he would answer her honestly; he felt, at least, that he was interested in her sleeping with him again.

She should stop herself. She knew she should. Her body could handle little more - but he was tempting, just as he was. The humor had done it; and so had her honesty. She was, in truth, his; he had to know this by now. If not her heart, her body for sure. And she wanted to indulge more. But she wouldn’t be the one to make the first move; not this time. Pride had taken her so far, and now, she needed time. Time to lick her wounds, to not get caught up, to not lose again.

So, she withdrew, and shifted in the tub, sending water splashing over the edges. Now, with her back to him, she pulled herself up straight, exposing the detail of that tattoo. The water made her brown skin all the more supple, a delicious contrast between the milky water that surrounded them. “You, dear sir, may start with my back!”

 

[WhisperedDesires]

Her touch was a siren song, a lure for his attention. That she seemed, even sore and worn as she appeared, interested in continuing to indulge herself was perhaps even more tempting than the physical touch itself. Still, rationality reared its head, kept his steadily growing hunger in check. But the images she spawned, the desire to have her once more, it was certainly burning within.

He distracted himself with the offered task, even if it did little to actually curb the temptation that was Ava. Bottles were pursued quickly while she shifted around, in the brief span that she'd removed her touch from the skin of his leg before presenting her back. By that time, he'd located the body soap, another flowery smelling substance, and he lathered some of it with his hands before his touch found her back, applying the soap to her skin. That he was touching her, and visually aiding in making her skin seem that much more supple and smooth, did little to help his desires, or rather in keeping them under control. Still, he saw to his task, focused on it, even as his hands moved about applying soap to her back and shoulders. But close as he needed to be to comfortably set about washing her back, she'd be able to feel the sign of his arousal, hear the subtle rumbling in his chest as he spoke, gamely trying to ignore the want to lay claim to her body again.

"This is perhaps the most mundane task anyone has ever set me to do. Not entirely unenjoyable, given the company in question, but still. Much less violent than burning a city to the ground, or magically intensive as charging some magical artifact."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Maybe she was just imagining it, but it felt like he was actually enjoying himself. The war within still raged; caught between the human desire to want to let her guard down, and the equally human desire of self-preservation. If she felt anything for him, it would only mean torment in the long run, unrequited love past human definitions. Not that she did - if pressed, she wouldn’t feel comfortable even calling him a ‘friend.’ That suggested conversation, closeness - not a random, rough fuck that tied her closer to him than anyone else.

A conundrum; something for her mind to continually turn over and over. In the meantime, she leaned back into the touch of his hands. Fighting against the physical pull wouldn’t get her anywhere, and a good lay (the best, really) love did not make. Maybe if she was in more desperate straits, perhaps, but now, mmm, there was still that little flame of wounded pride that she was scouring her mind to keep searching for tinder for, anything to keep it going, to keep that hurt open, to twist the knife further until she could come back to her rational mind.

“I can think of more ‘mundane’ things for you to do,” her voice was muffled as she leaned forward, pulling her hair away from her neck to allow him better access to the whole of her back. “Like taking out the trash, sorting the recycling, vacuuming. General housekeeping.” Not like she would need to command him to do so; several of the little housekeeping generalia she’d been pleasantly surprised, he’d simply do on his own without being told. Apparently neatness was one of his characteristics. Sometimes she’d bump into him when she was intending to clean something, fold laundry, only to find that he’d beaten her to it. “What is it that you would prefer to do?” It was an echo of a conversation held ages ago, when she’d first summoned him, curious as to what he did for “fun.” “Do you do ‘demonic’ things because you have to, or because you actually enjoy them? What is it that you enjoy most about what you do?” Why not? Humans had to eat, but the act of cooking could be enjoyable in and out of itself, the quest for new recipes, new flavors. Perhaps it was much the same for him.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"We take pleasure in indulging sin, our own or that of others. Pride, in lording over those who are beneath us. Gluttony, in consuming to excess and wasting a resource that another might find need for. Lust, in desiring pleasures, whether of flesh or of another nature. Greed, in hoarding power, souls and yes, even wealth. Sloth, in finding no need to work for oneself, in seeing no need to become something better. Envy, in wanting something you do not have, in taking it for yourself. Wrath, for releasing ones anger upon those they see fit, letting rage guide action to violence. To a demon, these are the core of our being, as much our nature as it is for a human to have a soul. As with humans, we are all different, more closely tied to particular sins than others, but all hold sway over us to some extent, as you've seen. To enjoy what we do is merely another piece of the puzzle. Sex would be a chore for humans if it was not enjoyable in some manner, similarly the harvesting of souls, the torture to draw out the metaphysical power stored within, all these things are enjoyable."

He had been working on her back, fingers gliding across skin as he spoke. Speaking on the demonic was not something he usually did, but the distraction of her skin, of the lust within, was enough to detract from his usual wariness, and it wasn't as if the knowledge would ultimately lead to some greater understanding. Humans had long associated the demons of hell with the seven sins. Merely confirming the impact on them would hardly be of any help.

"As for what I enjoy most, it is watching prey entrap themselves, with little need to weave threads of my own. Patience is my way, and to see patience rewarded... that is the greatest feeling. If I had my way, and you released me upon this little community, my webs, in keeping with your spider metaphor, would be woven already, and I would be watching for your neighbors to slip, to trap themselves in their own desires, and I would offer, out of the kindness of my own heart, to help them reach what they wanted. They would damn themselves, in seeking to fulfill their own indulgent desires, and many aren't nearly as shrewd or as clever as you. For you've find a way to sit at the center of the web, without being trapped within the threads, now haven't you?"

And that thought alone, the conclusion that, surprisingly, he hadn't quite reached until that moment, did more to calm his lust than anything else. His hands stopped their movement, resting on her shoulders as he contemplated that. She had managed it, hadn't she? Somehow, despite forging a deal, bargaining her soul, doing everything that would normally damn her to the pits... she was still free of him, at least temporarily. Given enough time, she might actually find her way to free herself entirely. The thought was displeasing, for her soul, burning brightly, and filled as it was with the magical power she wielded... it was a worthy prize. One he wasn't going to give up easily.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

It made sense. Somehow, she doubted that demons sat about in knitting circles and discussing the most recent gossip. Their loss.

“Something like that.” It was short, but not clipped. She knew the precarious position she was in, was thankful that she’d had enough dealing in trickery to have thought of such an impossible thing to ask. But there was the rub right there, wasn’t it - nothing, truly, was impossible when it came to dealing with the forces of Heaven and Hell. She’d bought herself time, and plenty of it, she could assume, but it wasn’t infinite.

“So what would happen if you failed in this particular quest?” Though his hands had stopped, she made no movement, no suggestion, that he should continue. What she did instead was reach further in front of her for a hand towel, and dousing it in the water, began to wash off where he’d soaped. The water was lukewarm, not entirely unpleasant, but enough to take the edge off of any arousal. Well, that and this talk of business. The past weeks had been a dance, that was true, and though she’d given into her desires, that hardly meant a moving of pieces. It wasn’t like her virginity was on the line. And, besides, she was curious.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"I would be returned to hell, sent back in something akin to disgrace. Likely I would be set upon by those who think my failure weakness. They would be crushed, and then I would lay claim to your soul anyway, as soon as your mortal life expired. Others would seek it as well, so I imagine you'd spark a minor war over ownership of your soul. Unsurprising, given the levels of magical energy coursing through your soul. I couldn't say I would win, which is... aggravating."

It was why he'd chosen to answer her call, beyond just the need to alleviate his boredom, though that made up most of his reasoning. Endless torturing of souls was, while enjoyable, an incredibly tedious task. But to compete for a soul was often times a dangerous prospect, even among the greater demons. Even more so for a soul of a mage, and one who'd dammed herself by toying with demonology. So very few such souls passed into the clutches of the demons. Too much of the knowledge had been lost, or so he'd guess. But they would see how the deal settled, and there were decades left of time before he would concern himself with truly worrying about the consequences of failure.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Ha! At least somewhere I’d be fought over.” Water cascaded over her body as she stood, clean as she felt she was going to get. The conversation, though informative, had taken a turn a fair shade darker than she had wanted it. It had been easier to fool herself that she wasn’t in such a precarious position in the day to day. His words brought it all back in a cool wave that threatened to submerge her. Truly, there was no way forward, no way back, and the only thing she could do was live day to day. Monotonous, but inching towards a sense of dread.

If she had been smarter, or colder, she could have offered a substitute; blame the desire of calling demons on someone else, who would be dragged off in her stead. There was no one that she could fool into it - and even if there was, this was her mistake. Stepping out of the tub, she wrapped a towel around herself, her mind drifting off into the distant future. Could she grasp onto the thread of his never falling in love with her, with him not remotely possessing the possibility of human emotion?

“How could my soul be yours, even after I die, if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain?” Still a macabre question, but she was still curious.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"If I were to lay claim to it in hell. But that requires more conflict than many are eager to get involved with. Your soul, of course, is rather unique, but for the average soul it is more like someone coming to collect something. It's all rather routine, after millennium of gathering up souls. A contract, on the other hand, ensure your soul is mine, and no one in heaven or hell can dispute the claim so long as the contract is upheld. It is ancient magic, barely understood even by our own. If there has ever been someone well versed in its nuance, I have not met them."

He watched her emerge, though the general air left little in the way for lust to boil over once more. The conversation wasn't conducive to such a thing, instead giving itself over to a far more serious nature. He would hazard she'd head to sleep soon, the demands of her worn muscles seeking the comforting bliss of rest and recuperation. For him... perhaps it was time he started spreading his network outward, seeking other deals, and other souls, to take ownership of. Ava's minders would be easy enough to slip by, given the proper motivations, and her neighbors, while mages themselves, were hardly the going to expect a demon to be wandering about. Yes, he'd waited long enough, it was time for more personal endeavors to take place. There was only the matter of making sure his current contractor didn't decide she needed to put a stop to it... well, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, would it?

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Sleep, post bath, was indeed on the agenda for her.

Finishing up in the bathroom, she allowed her mind to turn over what he’d told her. Possibilities, the details she’d never considered, or even humored. There was far more fine print to this whole bargaining thing than she ever anticipated, and she was too tired to tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

She went to bed with three solid things in mind:

1. Marlow was the best fuck that she’d ever had,
2. She had officially been ruined for other men,
3. Her pride still stung

Morning, noon, afternoon, night. So the days went, again, with little to no difference between them. Another week, another 7 days of her constantly pulling at the scab that threatened to grow over her injured pride, 7 nights of her not coming to him, of waiting, to see if he would make the next move, and each night that he didn’t, another tool in her arsenal of keeping her soul, indeed, to herself. Hard to fall in love with someone that continued to nurse her poor self-image, the insecurity that kept her thinking that she’d already proven herself desperate in more ways than one, and kept her in the bog of regretting her actions, pulling her down deeper. Not that there would be much of a change in her daily attitude or patterns - not even a harshness towards him.

When she had the time - away from home, in the office - she would wrack her brain, thinking of any other way that she could get away from him, to break the contract. It would seem that her word was truly binding. There was no trickery past the nebulous concept of “love”; therefore, no weaseling out of this one. The irritation she had initially nursed with having a constant in her home had worn away to a thin feeling of being put out; it wasn’t that Marlow was an inappropriate houseguest; far from. It was his unobtrusiveness that really got to her; his slinking round corners and doing whatever he did in the corners of the night while she slept. Like having a solid shadow; not a direct cumbersomeness, but the heavy feeling of something else, someone else, who didn’t care about his surroundings. Even in their movie nights, her own giver’s heart working against him, he felt cold, the shape of a human, but not a companion. It felt that the only time that she truly could think clearly was when she was out of the house - not that she blamed it on an enchantment, rather, the disturbance of well-worn paths, and the added injury of nursing loneliness not alone, but with someone else who intensified the feeling into a throbbing wound. The sheer indifference of him - the patience that came with that; it was insufferable. And it felt as if he knew that as well, that it fed further into his behavior, like driving her mad would push him further into his arms, but ah, even that wouldn’t undo the contract. He had to reciprocate.

Rather than the disturbance coming from inside, it came from outside this time - a thankful break in the usual holding pattern, the cold war that the two found themselves trapped in. A knocking at the door come Friday at dusk, when the neighbors gathered round in small parties on each others lawns, the heavy shade of oppressive heat slipping back into the coolness of a night in the desert. The sky was ablaze in orange and gold, and the laughter of children playing in the street, occasionally calling to each other, mingled in with the occasional honk of a horn or the bark of a dog, the song of late summer.

Somehow, Ava could sense the knock on the door before it happened, and there was no time to feel surprised or even put out; just the faint exasperation of having to deal with yet another human being that she had no patience for. Here she was, working among other humans such as herself, and living with a creature that merely had the shape of one, and yet, between the two, there was no comfort, no fitting in.

Opening the door, she molded her face into what she hoped was a nice enough smile. It was a typical Friday evening for her - comfortable clothes (a baggy shirt, cut off shorts), and a cup of tea that she carried to the door with her. On the other side was the aptly named Freya. If there was a Homeowner’s association, or a head of the community, Freya would be it. A Green witch through matrilineal lines, she was a heavy-set woman with a round, open face speckled with warm brown freckles, and laugh lines etched besides her pale blue eyes gave her the twinkling sort of merriment that one would expect from a good witch - a Glinda without her bubble, existing in the time of smartphones and the internet. True to her name, every Friday, she would hold these informal parties in her home that would often cascade onto her lawn - and then she would do her rounds, checking in with everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Since Marlow had been summoned, Freya’s visits had been curiously absent, as if a dark mark had been placed over Ava’s home that further shooed neighbors away. There had been an attempt, once, back when Ava had first moved in, to draw her into this informal coven of magic users. But something about Ava, that same will, perhaps, that allowed her to summon Marlow, the distinct coldness that wreathed her, kept her from getting close to others, no matter how she may have tried or wished for it to be otherwise. The jolly face of Freya creased a bit in apprehension, before glossing over into a bright, matronly smile.

“Ava! I am so sorry it’s been a few weeks since I’ve been by. I wanted to drop in and see how you were doing.” The unspoken question was there; the faint sweetness of green magic reaching into the home. Undoubtably Freya could sense the markings that Marlow had dusted the house with, even if she was powerless to do anything about them. The power they presented would manifest itself in a headache, dancing across her temples, throbbing back into her molars.

“Oh…that’s okay.” Niceties came difficult to Ava - not out of a reluctance to be invested in others, but a lack of patience, of knowing what to say. "I've been busy.”

“I heard!” Again, the bright smile, the lack of hesitation, but the animal fear of dealing with a predator that only appeared to be in a good mood. Freya leaned forward in a gesture of false conspiracy, of wanting to invoke the centuries old female camaraderie of secrets to share "You know, I heard from Mrs. Nakamura that you've had a male visitor over for the last few days. I hope you weren’t planning on hiding him from us!”

Ava knew a threat when she heard one. And she had suspected this inevitability - the neighborhood too small, their presence known in all corners. “Oh, yeah,” and she feigned blushing embarrassment. “I didn’t want to introduce him to anyone while things were new. Didn’t want to jinx things.” The battle lines were drawn now; both women knew it. Both women knew the strings of a lie about to come together, but neither could act directly on it. Ava couldn’t reach out for their help for a problem she had created, that only someone of her immense skill could have, and Freya couldn’t directly accuse Ava of lying.

“Well, how are they going?” A clasping of the warm, heavy ringed fingers, dirt still fairly under the nails. For a while, Ava had assumed, had hoped, perhaps, that her and Freya would bond over their common love for gardening. It hadn’t worked out that way.

“They’re…going.” The delay all too natural. Ava couldn’t blurt out that there was no emotional attachment, that she thought his eyes cold like a shark’s, doll eyes that bore a passing resemblance to human, but she still had her pride. “Hard to get to live with someone new after being alone for so long.” Bookending the fib with the solid truth not only made it easier to speak, but reached to something in Freya. For a moment, the older woman’s eyes took on true concern, the thin lips parting to find some word of reassurance. Ava, sensing it, through that thin spiderwebbing of magical power that drew everyone in the community together, felt a sense of relief so strongly that she nearly sobbed. Someone still cared, even in passing.

“I can imagine so,” Freya offered, filled with the sense of dread that sudden realization could bring.

“Would you like to meet him now? He’s home,” Ava ventured. The sooner it was out, the easier she could be left in peace. And…now, she found herself considering, would it be possible to tell the truth to Freya? To feel like she could be human with someone else?

“Only if I’m not interrupting!” Freya quickly said, stopping herself from fiddling with her rings, a nervous gesture she’d had since childhood.

“Not at all. We never have anything planned - we’re homebodies.” Bury the pathetic in humor. “Marlow, would you come to the door? Freya’s here.”

 

[WhisperedDesires]

Over the following weak, the demon had begun his slow, exorable shift in late night activities. His defenses of the house had been finalized, tied off neatly to avoid someone accidently stumbling upon something they shouldn't. Instead, once Ava retired each evening, he'd begun slipping from the home, taking walks throughout the neighborhood, senses testing the limits of the mages and their magical power. This community housed a number of stronger individuals, perhaps no match for the practitioners of old, but strong enough in their own right. Ava, he was pleased to note, was still of particularly noteworthy strength, some small bit of him taking pride in the fact that it was one of the stronger members of this community that had pulled him from hell.

His night walks were more than simply testing the limits of those who now surrounded him. He tasted of the desire in the air, peoples hidden wishes and temptations. Even the happiest of people had them, the one thing they wanted deep inside. These mages were no different, though he gave credit where it was due. None tasted of desperation, of willingness to give up their immortal soul for the trivial wants they all displayed. No matter. Patience had ever been his way, and patience would serve well. The first threads of his temptations were put in place, whispers in the dark and slight flexes of power, subtle and quiet, made to influence the mind, to push desires to the forefront, to influence sin within. He only selected a few to be touched, the vulnerable few who were too weak to notice his influence, or so easily swayed that their pride would not allow them to admit they'd been tempted by something other than themselves. Arrogance or ignorance, either served his purposes well.

His late night activities served well in another aspect as well. His lusts were mere embers, but still present, made all the worse by Ava's presence. She was a temptation, after that night, one he believed she didn't realize she was. His focus on other things, however, kept such desires in check, allowed his cold patience to reassert itself. Perhaps he should have taken her, demanded her attentions, slaked lust upon her body. He could taste her frustrations as well, her unease, or perhaps it would be better called her annoyance. That night had led, it seemed, only to a different dance, but they danced all the same, like two partners that knew the steps but refused to perform together. But time was something he had in abundance right now, and moving too quickly, in all aspects, would prove more detrimental than helpful more often than not. He would have her soul eventually, even if it would be a matter that would need to take its course over decades.

So it was that he reached this evening. He had expected it to remain as it had been, the pair largely left to their own devices, likely another routine day that ran into yet another day. Instead an interruption came, a knock at the door and, more importantly to the demon, the intrusion of magic into the home. It was a probing sort of thing, a familiar magic of the wild, natural places of the world. It was also unwelcome, it's questing into what was now his domain unwanted. But he stopped himself from magically snapping at the intrusion, it would be too easy then to notice his presence, to understand what he was. Instead, he lurked, just out of sight, as Ava talked with Freya, eyes burning darkly as he considered each word said, how it could be twisted and used. So when he was finally called forward to introduce himself, it was only moments before he appeared at the door, considering the woman before him critically, probing in his own way for possible dangers, possible manipulations.

"A visitor? Good evening. A pleasure to make your acquaintance... Freya was it? I'm the so called Marlow." There was the hint of amusement in his voice then, a smile on his face that seemed almost too natural. He was settling into his place now, assuming a role rather than simply being what he was. For Ava, the role was unnecessary, for she'd called him forth and knew what he was, even if he'd veiled himself behind a human appearance. For other humans, however, he'd play his part, just as it should be, as best he could. An arm slipped around Ava's waist, a simple gesture, one of intimacy, though it lacked the warmth such an action would normally have, the emotion somehow absent. His other hand extended forward in greeting, taking their visitor's in a firm handshake, the smile upon his face projecting good cheer. "Ah, but Ava never mentioned she had such a fetching acquaintance. A shame we haven't had the opportunity to meet before now."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Ava had to stop herself from stiffening and throwing off the arm that Marlow so carelessly threw around her waist. She wasn’t sure what she disliked more: the fact that he’d taken the liberty to do it, or how false it felt. She was sure he could feel her immense annoyance roll off of her like a tidal wave. This familiarity was wholly unwelcome - she decided, because of how false it was. Fucking was one thing; acting like there was actual affection was another. Still, she managed to keep the revulsion off of her face - a task challenged further as he spouted his flattery at Freya.

Though Freya was of no magical magnitude as Ava, something inside of her nagged at her - the discomfort of her headache growing so that her brows creased, and momentarily, she closed her eyes, shaking it away. Odd. “You’re too kind, Marlow,” she responded, batting aside his compliment as little more than empty air. Something was not right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It had been so long since she had been directly in contact with Ava, it was entirely possible that she’d forgotten just how off-putting the woman was, if she knew it or not. Looking at the younger woman, Freya searched her face for any sort of pleading, of the sorrow that hung around her and draped her aura in shades of gray. But there was nothing there, just that same, bright smile that on anyone else could have been considered fetching, open, welcoming, but on her, just seemed pasted on. Letting her hand slip from Marlow’s, Freya tried her smile again.

“So, how long have you two been seeing each other?” Fumbling conversation; perhaps if she kept talking, true interest would follow. Freya was a magpie of a woman; eager to chat, eager to learn. There wasn’t anyone on the block who she didn’t know basic things about - favorite color, names of children, favorite foods. The grandmother or aunt or sister to all in the neighborhood, her ignorance of Ava rankled at her now. But perhaps this strange man would be someone to help break that spell; to draw her in. Lovers did tend to have that affect on people - once the nesting, honeymoon phase was over.

“A few weeks,” Ava quickly answered. Sucking up her pride, she leaned into Marlow, trying to add some authenticity to their horrid pretend.

“Still in the honeymoon phase, I see,” at the friendly teasing, Freya’s face seemed to light up a bit. “Oh, I remember those days with my husband. Everything seems so new - you haven’t learned each other’s bad habits yet.” A soft chuckle; a retreat into memories.

“Something like that.” It was fumbling, and totally insincere; filling Ava’s mouth like flour. “Would you say it was like a honeymoon, Marlow?”

 

[WhisperedDesires]

"I would say it is like a bear having her den intruded upon by a particularly annoying bee. A honeymoon, if you will, though I doubt she much appreciates the comparison. Ava is... not the most sociable of people, and even with me she is somewhat stand offish. Just one of her many charms."

The amusement was clear in his voice now. The demon, while only imitating the actions of an affectionate love, took true pleasure from the annoyance that cascaded off of Ava. Let it not be said he couldn't take some enjoyment out of what was effectively torturing a soul, even if that soul was busy still inhabiting its mortal coil. All the better when he could point out that annoyance in a way that made it seem teasing more than anything else. But he'd take his entertainment where he could, even in the smallest of ways. Besides, his description was not inaccurate, and it was charming, in the way all mortals could be.

He stiffened as Ava leaned into him, putting more of her weight against his own body. It was unfamiliar, though others had done so before it was always in an almost always with seductive intent. Here, it was a mimicry of something he didn't understand, and without the underlying intent of sexual interest it was something he had little experience in dealing with. Still, the façade upon his face, of calm neutrality and general amusement was kept in place. Besides, it was an opportunity all its own, meeting someone who was, apparently, something of a gossip.

"I believe I heard mention of a... Mrs. Nakamura? I'm afraid I haven't been out much to greet the neighborhood, I've seen only a few people in passing."

In the early mornings, when he watched the sky. In all fairness, thanks to his midnight walks, he could probably tell more about the magical lay of the land, and the mystical leanings of its inhabitants, then he could about the people themselves. Their desires too, if her were being honest, and he recognized the name from one of his walks, a family woman if he recalled from the brief brush of his power against her mind. Her desires had been somewhat atypical of the expected, a deep expression of Envy leveled at Ava, for the power she wielded with such relative ease. Nakamura had been... mediocre at best, leaning more towards practical applications of minor arcana than anything remotely approaching the abilities Ava displayed in demonology. That's not to mention that he'd never asked his contractor if she'd knowledge and skill in other forms of magical expression. A topic of conversation for a later date, perhaps.

"It would be remiss of me if I didn't take a chance to learn about the neighbors, introduce myself. Always a pleasure to meet new people. Perhaps you'd be willing to help make introductions?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

That…

Well. Ava composed herself as rapidly as she felt the urge to spin out of control. Patient as he was, he was still a demon, and an opportunistic one at that. Her smile turned slightly feral around the corners as he described her. He wasn’t entirely wrong; she had to give him that. She never was one for someone living in her personal space, even if that presence was a welcome one.

Leaning on him further, she “discreetly" slipped a hand into his back pocket, resting her hand comfortably against the curve of his rear. The action did not go unnoticed by Freya, who hid a small chuckle behind her hand. Ava let her hand stay against Marlow’s rear - before giving him a rather uncharitable pinch at his wanting to meet the neighbors.

Petty, childish, immature; all of those things and still more. Gratifying? Oh, yes.

“You know, that may not be such a bad idea.” Rather than openly palming his rear as she had before, Ava tightened her grip on the globe of flesh - not painfully, but enough to send the message home that she was on to him, and if he wanted to play this game, she was along for the ride.

“Really?” Freya’s eyes did light up then, a sense of relief washing over her. “It would be so nice if you’d join us! We do rarely get to see you, and I know the community’s been dying to get to know you better!” Ava could hear the sincerity in Freya’s words, and for a split second, she wished that this introduction was under better (read - any other) circumstances. Perhaps…her isolation had been a cage of her own making all along. Keeping her grip on Marlow, Ava returned Freya’s relieved smile with one of her own.

“Really. I’m really bad about being social,” honesty made her stumble a bit over her words - but she felt easier all the same. It must be part of Freya’s charm, that gentle green magic that spoke to the earth, encouraged growth and wisdom and family. How had Ava not allowed herself to bask in this, this warmth so different from her own magics that were always cold, a battle of wills, of trickery? What would it be like to actually…enjoy magic ability? To consider it a gift?

“Oh, my dear, it’s one of the great lessons in life that has to be learned - living with others. It’s funny how humans can be so social, need each other, but we keep each other away all the same? But we are animals, after all - some of us are more ape-like, and some of us are more feline-like,” Freya smiled, the wisdom of her own words warming her, curling back and lending her more strength. She had, after all, pegged Ava for some great, dark cat - keeping to herself, watching, waiting. A creature of solitary beauty - and, her description would seem more apt at Marlow’s appearance. Only coming together to mate, it would seem, though Freya kept those thoughts to herself. Though she knew little of the woman, she knew enough to feel that this relationship, if it could be called that, wouldn’t last. Odd enough as it was that he was staying there - but there was truly no polite way to bring it up. Well, never mind all that.

Ava simply nodded a bit. She knew Freya was right - but she also couldn’t deny her own reluctance in getting close to others. It meant pain in the long run; she knew enough of life to know that the ideals of friendship, brotherhood (or sisterhood) were just that - ideals. And no matter how hard she may have wished for something longer lasting, truly eternal, that it wasn’t to be.

“You know, maybe I should change, if we’re going over to your place-” Ava started, all too aware of her slovenly appearance. Just her luck.

“Nonsense!” Interjected Freya, a bit too quickly, but not willing to let this opportunity go. “It’s Friday evening and everyone’s in a state of relaxation, as it is. We’re lucky that Mr. Garcia even bothered to put on pants before he came on over!” A hearty chuckle at her own joke, or rather, at her knowledge of those in the neighborhood. Garcia was one of the more “eccentric” residents, walking that fine line between power and insanity.

“Oh, well, then…” Ava glanced up at Marlow, hoping that the slight bite in her look suggested that he be on his best behavior - whatever that meant for his kind.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

He could feel the sudden understanding before he felt Ava's physical touch, the pinch causing him to flinch more from the surprise of the action than any real pain. But it earned a small smirk, and even more when her warning looks came, as if such a simple method would keep him in check. But, if nothing else, he'd little intention of causing problems. This was hardly the time or place for spreading his influence, and more an opportunity to get more information on those who might be interested in making a deal. Still, he acknowledged her glare with a slight nod, hoping it conveyed that he'd be a perfect little demon, just as she wanted him to.

The pair were led over to the gathering, people talking in small groups, children playing with each other in the yard. It was, if he was being entirely truthful, practically the most wholesome gathering he'd seen in a long time. It was also, to his more demonically attuned senses, a mess of sin. Mages, whatever the greater power they might wield, were still as human as ever. So many tangled relationships within this community, so much work to be done to pull at the strings.

The first of many introductions was a couple closer to the edges of the gathering. Jin and Toshi Nakamura, as they were introduced, were an imperious sort, pride pouring from them like sunlight. It wouldn't surprise the demon if they saw themselves as above the rest, or perhaps just above the mingling of the other families present. Their magic tasted of spiritualism, of eastern magics that he admittedly had little experience with, active as he was in the western world. Why Freya had chosen them eluded him, perhaps they were simply the most readily available, or perhaps she thought that their standoffish nature would mesh more easily with Ava's. Regardless, it was an interesting choice, of all things. Marlow delighted in the Envy he felt from Mrs. Nakamura, jealousy of the power Ava wielded, the company she kept. There was the chink in the armor that he would use, perhaps tempting with greater power. But a thread for another time.

Before they could be drawn into deeper conversation they were moving again, introduced to another family, this one the more mundane qualities of the average magical family. Mr. and Mrs. Carter, put upon parents of a three rambunctious children, each charging around the yard as children were liable to do. Their mannerisms screamed suburban, overly friendly smiles and cheerful babbling being the order of the moment. Sure enough, the patriarch of the family was quick to latch onto Marlow, gushing about this or that sports team, while the matriarch shouted warnings to her children and tried to draw Ava into gossiping about the community, and perhaps more tellingly, tried to draw Ava into talking about herself and "that nice gentlemen she had brought with her".

Marlow managed, if only just, to sound vaguely interested in Mr. Carter's football discussion, though he hardly understood the numbers being thrown around or why such a game was worth discussing. He was almost convinced this was a better torture for him than anything else, and that perhaps Ava had a hand in this in some way, when he felt a tug at his pant leg. A glance down revealed a small girl, eyes staring up at him with something he could only describe as childlike curiosity and lack of fear. It was the words she spoke, however, that caused his eyes to narrow and senses to suddenly sharpen, the air growing heavy with sudden weariness.

"Why are you so small? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Ellie! I'm sorry, she knows better than to interrupt adult conversations."

"But he's so big, all smushed into a little body. Lady, do you know why he's smushed like that?"

"Her name is Ava, not lady, and his name is Marlow. You know better than to just ask questions like that! I really am sorry."

"It's... quite alright. Children will be children, after all." Marlow forced himself to breath, to release the tension in his frame. Getting himself worked up would do little, and all the more with so many mages about already trying, in their own ways, to figure out who he was and how he fit in with Ava. Still, it had been a very long time since he'd run into someone so sensitive to magic, or able to see passed the veil of illusions he'd placed over himself to the form that lay within. He could make up a suitable lie, but he admittedly knew little about how much this community discussed its magic, or even if it discussed magic openly at all. He glanced at Ava and Freya both, looking for some sign as to what to do, or perhaps just how much he could get away with saying without causing a further scene.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Despite Freya’s warmth, Ava was ill at ease, and it had little to do with the demon at her side. If her neighbors were strong enough to have suspected anything, she doubted that she would be welcome at their gatherings. In fact, if they had, she suspected that they would have come to her door that very night. However, even among these magic users, she felt that a spotlight was on her at all times; from the waves of power that naturally emanated from her, from her secretive nature - it would only be natural that she attracted attention. And now with a new beau on her arm? The day was lost.

Freya led her through the paces - this family, that family. This young couple that just moved in, this older retiree. The names and faces all swam before Ava, though she tried her best to keep her smile on her face. As an outsider, it would have, perhaps, been amusing to Marlow to watch - Ava disturbingly awkward, doing her best to stumble along with small talk, and those that were introducing themselves, or reintroducing themselves to her, doing their best to be welcoming but keeping their distance, as if approaching a dog that they were unsure was going to bite them or not. With a drink shoved into her hand, Ava went on about the conversations gamely, nodding when it felt appropriate, doing her best to try and remember names and details.

With as overwhelmed as she felt, Ava still felt…a strange sense of warmth. These people were actually trying - when was the last time that she’d actually tried herself to get on with anyone? And though she knew that they were watching her, suspicious of her, from the asides that Freya had charitably whispered to her from time to time, there seemed to be a few camps of how the neighbors considered her: those who thought her young and reckless, those who thought that she meant no harm, and the imps that she summoned were little more than the occasional nuisance, those who thought her power unnatural and should be checked (and to Freya’s great credit, those in that camp were only given the most sparing of introductions before Ava was whisked away to a more charitable group), and those who, much to Ava’s great surprise, actually liked her - without directly knowing her.

“Well, it’s because you keep to yourself and don’t cause problems,” explained Freya, twisting a large moonstone ring round her finger. “Plus people just think you’re nice.” The last bit tacked on with a knowing smile from Freya.

"I don’t know why; I don’t ever talk to anyone,” Ava grasped her cup tighter, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Blushing wasn’t something she did often, and this was no flush of coyness; no charmingly demure action. It was a pure expression of embarassment; of wanting to be anywhere but where she was. She absolutely hated undue attention on her - and wished that she could either return home or simply magic herself invisible.

“Oh, nonsense - people just get a good vibe from you,” punctuated by Freya gently elbowing Ava in the side.

Leaving Ava and Marlow in the care of the Carters, Ava, again, tried gamely to keep up with the gossip. Mrs. Carter, “Please, just call me Helen,” she’d said, without missing a beat in her story, exuded a warmth that was a dim echo of Freya’s. Perhaps another green witch; it was hard to tell. Helen had a look to her that suggested a different time; the freewheeling, floral patterns that the 1960s popularized, after the disillusionment of the establishment had set in. Long carrot-colored hair that hung down her back, small black round rimmed glasses perched on top of a sharp hooked nose. Even with the pinch of her thin lips and pink-knuckled hands that suggested a spinster cruelty, Helen was anything but. At the end of her story, she’d bodily pulled Ava in closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as if they had been friends for years. This close, Ava could be caught up in the smell of cannibis flower and patchouli, brushed over with the faintest hint of body odor, some strange greenery that pulled her in rather than repelled. She’d smile, nervously, as always, and simply listen, the stories pouring out of Helen and the other women; the woes of childcare, the teasing hints that Ava was just so lucky that she still had time to herself, but children really were a blessing, and wasn’t Marlow handsome, in that quiet, standoffish way, how funny that they seemed bookends, so well suited to each other. Lying, at first, was difficult for Ava - simple things; filling in the gaps in how they’d met, how long they’d been together. Ava never was anything close to an adept liar - and her first attempts were fumbling at best. After reciting the same story so many times often, with Marlow as her shadow, it’d gotten easier - and now, the stories she spun were of a fantasy, something about voicing them out loud making them hurt less, more within her reach. It was easy to create the fabric of a perfect boyfriend since Marlow was naught but a blank slate to hang them on.

She was interrupted by the small voice of a little girl, being referred to as “lady” - to no small amount of amusement. Rather than offer help to Marlow, she thought, with a bit of sadism, that it would be fun to watch him squirm; to explain this away. Of course the children here would be magically inclined; they were being raised in the bosom of magicks.

“What is it that you see, sweetie?” Ava, was, after all, curious. She’d thought that Marlow’s human disguise was immaculate, with how strong he was. And yet this child was able to see through it? Even she had no idea what Marlow’s true form was. Freya glanced over at Helen - who seemed to be just as much at a loss for words as Freya was. To outsiders, the neighborhood was that of any other - there was no declarative sign that stated that this was a hub of magic users, or that the land put off power. If Marlow had been any other person, human, he wouldn’t have detected anything; just a collection of people of varying ages, races, and gender collecting together with a friendliness that was so sincere it was nearly off-putting.

Ellie, put on the spot, looked at her mother, then at Ava’s face. Deciding that she had a friend in this strange lady, she spoke again: “I asked if he was hurt, being smushed up all like that. He’s so much bigger than that,” and she pointed at him. “And you’re all weird, too - all glowy but dark at the same time.”

Sounds about right, thought Ava, with a small smile.

“Ellie’s got quite the imagination,” offered Helen, quickly, picking up from some unspoken cue from Freya. “She has quite the menagerie of imaginary friends as well.”

“They’re real!” Ellie said, with a defiant stamp of her foot. “The fairies are real!”

“Yes, yes, dear,” Helen said, with that sly wink and a nod gesture towards Marlow proving that yes, she knew her little angel had quite the imagination, and that she’d heard it all before.

“Ellie’s got a big mouth; you ain’t supposed to talk about that stuff with people from outside!” snapped a boy, a few years older than Ellie.

“Raven!” hissed Helen, “Manners. ‘Ain’t’ is not proper English.” A warning glance from Helen, weighted with unspoken secrecy. As if realizing his mistake, the boy’s ears flushed a bright red, and he looked down at his scuffed and well-worn sneakers.

“Raven,” cooed Freya, “You know, I think Miss Diana brought some of her famous marshmallow squares - aren’t they your favorites, Ellie?”

Both of the children’s eyes lit up. “I want one!” shrieked Ellie in her excitement, Ava and Marlow forgotten just that quick. “Come on, then,” Raven took Ellie’s hand and tugged her away - before he was being dragged by Ellie. The adults left shared soft laughter, with Helen shaking her head and breathing a mock sigh of relief. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Freya. Or Diana’s pastries. The woman’s got a gift.”

And, like that, the air was cleared, the adult conversation carrying on as if nothing happened. After all, the imagination of a little girl, confronted with a new man, would be wont to run amuck, wouldn't it? Freya and Helen would glance over at Ava, shared a small smile, a wink without words, secure that the magical workings of the neighborhood were kept secret again.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

He kept only half an ear to the talking, enough to catalogue Ava's lies so that he could aid in the keeping up the charade of proper lovers. Another bit of his attention was devoted merely to saying the right words for the males that had gathered around him, to present some front of interest or understanding. Being rude could only be detrimental, best, instead to leave a good impression, that he might have them speak more freely around him of their wants and desires.

Most of his true attention, however, was devoted to the aftermath of the child. Despite her propensity for being distracted by baked goods, she was of immediate interest to him merely for her ability to see. Children, by and large, were more sensitive to the twisting realm of the supernatural, even without being raised in an environment inundated with its practitioners and magical power. Even then, children who could see through the veil of a demon were few, speaking of potential far outstripping the usual sort. Either she'd been granted some gift, from her "fairy" friends, or she'd been born with an exceptional talent for magic. Either was a prize worth pursuing. The fey folk were a capricious lot, sometimes aiding and sometimes harming the mortals. Demons were not so different, if largely more concerned with themselves, but he personally had often gotten on with the fey. If she were just gifted, however, then it might yield results if he manuvered for the child to be apprenticed to Ava. She might not agree, but the females of the community seemed to wield a considerable amount of clout and managed in their own way to overwhelm Ava's ability to protest. Surely the magi of the world still taught the next generation, and even if they didn't, demonology had never been the most openly taught discipline. A gifted youngster being shown the keys to hell itself, that was just a possibility too good to pass up. Still, all that considered, further investigation was needed.

Of more immediate interest was the subtle hint he'd picked up from the end of the encounter. They were hiding their magic from him, disguising her sight as imagination and child fantasy. Not a new manner of dealing with outsiders, certainly not when it came to children who had difficulty understanding the necessity of secrecy, but telling all the same. So, he was considered an outsider, and a non-magical one at that. That could be seen as a blessing and a curse. It would be difficult to discuss anything of actual interest when he was considered not one of them, but at the same time he'd be more likely brushed off as a non-threat. All in all, one negated the other, simply tailoring how he'd have to interact with the mortals until such a time as he was "allowed" to know of the magical world, likely a decision left to Ava, though the community would have its say as well. There was no telling how long that would take, or if it would happen at all, but until then he'd play the ignorant fool all the same.

Speaking of which... the demon watched, waited, for a moment when Ava was suitably distracted by the gaggle of women that surrounded her. The moment she was, he slipped away, giving some mundane excuse to the men he'd been engaged with. It wasn't a difficult task, but all the better for his own work. Now, does a demon seek to pull at the thread of Envy, or perhaps further investigation into the child and her "fairies" would be more appropriate...

The decision was taken from him, remarkably enough, by the child. As he stepped away, considering his options, his senses warned him of a presence trailing behind him. A look found Ellie munching away on her treats, staring at him with the complete lack of fear only children seemed capable of. She'd brought the other one with her, the boy named Raven, who was perhaps a bit more suspicious of him, if only because the demon was a stranger. A glance revealed that the adults hadn't noticed her renewed interest in the demon, an opportunity that he wouldn't let pass up without at least probing a little. Perhaps he might even put an idea in the girls head.

"Why hello. Back again, are we? Quite tenacious, I'd expected you'd be distracted by your treats longer than that."

"You never told me why you were smushed." Crumbs dribbled from the girls mouth, clearly unconcerned with speaking with her mouth full. Still, she gamely continued on, more interested in getting the answer she wanted than appearing clean. "It looks like it hurts. Are you hurting?"

"Ellie, we ain't supposed to talk like that."

"Let her have her fun, Raven. It's quite alright. No, I'm not hurt, though I admit it's a bit uncomfortable. I can tell you why I'm... smushed, but it has to remain a secret, ok? Just between us." Her eager nod was all he needed, a small smile spreading across his lips. He had no faith she would actually keep it, already she'd proven she hadn't learned discretion quite yet, young as she was. But wording it as he had, it would likely come off to the adults in her life that he was merely playing along with her game, helpfully reinforcing the image of being ignorant of magic in all it's forms. "The adults are scared of me, so I have to keep hidden, otherwise they might chase me away. They don't like people who look like I do. We scare them too much, even though we just want to help."

"Like the fairies? They want to help in Mama's garden, but she chases them away all the time." The little girl leaned forward, in a stage whisper that anyone paying attention to probably could have heard, giggling a little as she let the demon in on one of her own secrets. "Sometimes, I take down the papers Mama puts up to keep the fairies away, so they can come play."

"Ellie, you're gonna get in trouble if ma catches you." The boy seemed more interested in following the rules, perhaps a quirk of his personality, or just feeling like he was superior because he could follow directions. The demon classified him as the more responsible of the two anyway, even if he was only doing it to appear more "grown-up".

"That's very nice of you. I'm sure the fairies appreciate it." Though her mother probably did not. The fey folk loved to make nuisances of themselves, all the more when they could poke about a mage's works. Ever had practitioners had to contend with the whims of the fey.

"Sometimes they bring me candy... do you have friends, mister? More who look like you? It would be really lonely if you didn't."

"There are more like me, little one. But they're stuck, on the other side."

"Stuck? Why are they stuck? Do they need help?" Curiosity, boundless curiosity, and the childlike desire to be helpful because that's what her parents had instilled into her as being a good thing. Even the boy seemed interested after that, the idea that someone needed help sticking in a way few others things did. A good girl and boy helped, and being stuck meant someone needed help getting unstuck. Even as the question left her mouth, the demon's smile grew just a bit bigger. Still, there wouldn't be much time before someone noticed him standing here, talking with the children, and given the paranoid nature of any parent when their child was talking to what was ultimately a stranger, there wasn't much time before someone intervened.

"They do need help. But I'm afraid I can't help them. Perhaps you can. Ava helped me."

"The lady did? That was nice of her. She was nice."

"Yes she is. If you ask her, maybe she'll teach you how she helped me, and you can help my friends come here."

"Could I help too?" The boy, not wanting to be outdone, wanting to help, wanting, more than anything, to appear more grown-up than his sibling. His potential was likely far less than his sibling, he couldn't see through the veil. Still, making some budding warlocks wasn't an opportunity the demon would let go by without at least trying to push them along in the right direction.

"Of course you can. Just remember, it's our little secret that my friends need help, ok? Don't tell anyone."

Nods from both the children, Ellie by far the most eager of the pair. Ava would likely be very much against the idea, she was not fool, and she'd put the pieces together quickly enough as to what he'd planted in the young girl's head. But the seeds were there, and Ava might just decide to teach her anyway, for there was a danger to stumbling through demonology unsupervised. Summoning gone wrong were a large part of why trafficking with demons was frowned upon, not to mention the danger of losing your soul. Besides, if Ava didn't, he might just decide to show the little ones a few tricks himself, and his so called lover would likely know that just as well.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

There was something akin to a “Spider-Sense” that Ava had when it came to the Dark Arts; a nagging, tugging feeling at the back of her neck, almost as if tiny hands were tugging at the fine hairs there to pull her attention away. Though the conversation continued around her, she did her best to subtly keep an eye on Marlow. It would have been foolish to assume that she wouldn’t be aware of him, keeping some sort of tabs on him even though she wasn’t physically close to him. So, now it was her turn to show some patience; occasionally glancing away from the group of women, looking towards the men, just brief things, here and there.

No; she’d let her magic do the talking for her.

Demonology was a strange thing in that it required will and a deep knowledge of one’s self. Other magics, however, required a connection beyond the self. Though she was not a green witch like many of those here, or even skilled in Eastern magics, her innate ability to focus so solely on herself and the relationship she had to the world around her (part of that strange aura that sat around her that suggested on a deep, subconscious level for others to keep their distance) allowed her some view, albeit weakly, into those she had taken into her “circle.” The contract between the two of them would certainly help strengthen the bond, though there were no feelings, no deep affections there to bolster it. The details of what he was up to were lost to her, but she felt the simple pulling away from her, the interest in someone else, and her fingers tightened on her cup.

So she was insecure; that was a given. And perhaps with therapy and intense work, she could have overcome the worst of it. But simply put, that insecurity, the always watching, waiting, all too attuned to how people felt about her because she was wrapped up constantly in herself - well, it had the unintended side effect of making her magic that much stronger. A double-edged sword.

Rather than making an excuse, pointing out to Helen that my, Ellie was quite taken with Marlow, wasn’t she, Ava waited, and would still glance over from time to time. It would have made sense that he’d be drawn to the child; especially one that blurted out her own magical abilities. And it would be stupid to assume that he wouldn’t try to corrupt her in one way or the other.

Fuck. This has been a shit show since day one. She scowled into her cup as she took a sip. Alcohol was available; provided freely (as the newest couple on the block, the Wallaces, were amateur mead-makers, apparently, and had brought their most recent batch to share and judge), but she’d stuck to simple iced tea, the bitter laced sweetness of it all grounding and reassuring. Not for the first time, she felt sheer and utter annoyance at her own stupidity at calling him forth - herself being in danger was one thing; potentially harming those around her was quite something else. And while she half-listened to the women around her, she let her thoughts go.

There has to be a way to send him back. To void the contract. He’s incapable of loving - and I know that buys me time. But I don’t want him around any longer, good sex or not. Resolve sparked in her chest. Maybe...

It would be like going from the frying pan into the fire; borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, but if the contract could be transferred to someone else, well…maybe that might have merit. The only problem would be was that those people would have actual USE for him - which would still put the blame squarely on her shoulders. And being desperate once had called him forth. Being desperate and jumping at a solution-that-really-wasn’t-a-solution wasn’t going to make things better for her, either.

No one here is strong enough to banish him, she thought, ruefully. The Angelmakers would want him to do whatever it is that they want to do, but…Maybe an exorcist? That might have merit. If they couldn’t do it, perhaps they would point her in the direction of someone who either could, or knew of what to do. She could take some chastisement about her stupidity if it meant getting rid of him.

Well. At the very least, it'd give her something to do. She was growing tired of this fruitless dance between the two of them, patience never having been one of her strong suits, and seeing him with the child had not made matters any better. If anything, it drove home the foolishness of the whole endeavor.

 

[WhisperedDesires]

His work with the children done, the rest of his time was spent putting on the affectations of a clueless outsider. It was a simple task, even if the discussions among the male members of the community frequently strayed to matters of work or sports. The sports he remained largely apart from, he had little interest in human entertainment, at least of the physical variety. Business, however, did attract his attention, or at least proved a topic he could more easily navigate through. A simple lie, that he was something of a day trader who made, if he said so himself, a decent sum, and he was swiftly congratulated. It earned its fair share of laments as well, most of the individuals spending their days at their 9-5 work, that he was capable of spending nearly all of his time doing as he pleased(in their eyes) was something to be envious of. Soon enough, however, the evening gave way to night, and the community get together came to a close. Many of the families, whether through sincerity or merely for appearances, gave their goodnights and hopes to see Ava and Marlow again at the next gathering. Marlow made sure to give his confirmation that they would be, for far be it for him to lose opportunity to walk among the crowds.

So it was that the night ended, and time passed as it always did. Days turned to weeks turned to a month, time the demon spent weaving his threads. With far demonic work to be done, attention was drawn away from Ava and her activities, an oversight he normally would not have made, but with her tendency to simply live by her routines, he judged it unlikely she would even bother to alter her habits at all. Instead, he saw to other interests, his time occupied primarily during the day when Ava was not about, with time slotted for when he would be "working". Of those two interests, one required far more dedicated, and careful, work than the other.

Ellie, and to a lesser extent her brother Raven, were fast becoming a frequent sight around him. He might have preferred otherwise, but the little girl had apparently taken a shine to him, declaring him her "big friend". When she was not occupied with school, her "fairy friends" or her mother's guiding hand, it was becoming a common sight for the girl to be hovering around Ava's house, eager to sit beside Marlow as he whiled away the hours on the front porch, the girl babbling her random thoughts to him while he assumed a look well known by all parent's, of and adult merely humoring a child. That he did so at all, however, and that he would frequently answer her questions in almost serious manner, was something that endeared him to the Carters, Helen in particular gushing to him that he was absolutely adored by the young girl. He accepted that fact with the only look he thought it deserved, a hesitant smile at the idea that a magically gifted child who could, if anyone believed a word she said, out him immediately to the community. Still, it served a number of purposes having her so close, the most pleasing one being that whenever Ava came home to find the unlikely pair on the porch she was almost immediately bombarded with questions and requests for teaching, because, as Ellie insisted, she "wanted to help too!".

Requiring much more focused work over the past few weeks was Mrs. Nakamura. He'd singled her out for the Envy that emanated from her at the mere sight of Ava, the waves of the sin kept bottled up within her soul of near immediately interest. Oh, outwardly she kept up that quiet, friendly demeanor, offering polite smiles and kind, if somewhat stiff, words whenever the two interacted. It was fertile ground for the patient demon to weave his web, and it was an opportunity he hadn't passed up in the time since that first meeting. The first weeks had been much the same, stiff greetings from the Japanese woman that were punctuated only by polite conversations. Eventually though, through careful words and simple frequency, the woman opened up to him. Toshi was a deeply self disciplined sort, seeing her every action in terms of careful measurement and solid dedication. Her marriage was a matter of convenience, a political arrangement by her own words, and one she was satisfied with, for it afforded her the life she currently had. What did rankle her, even if she didn't give voice to it, was that for all her discipline, meditation and the careful cultivation of her own magical power, her potential would never match Ava's. In his nighttime walks, presence carefully hidden by his own power, he found more often than not that Toshi's husband neglected her in favor of his work, a not uncommon occurrence among the culture of the Far East, but it did little to salve the emotional side of the woman. Even so, in that month, Marlow had done little but worm his way into the woman's confidence. They were not friends, but for two people who preferred being quietly patient whilst their other halves went to work, the relationship was one that was convenient. It had taken a month to reach that far, and would take months more before he could pull at Nakamura's Envy enough to make something of it, but for now it was enough.