Broken souls

babies i have missed them so much

I know what you mean! 

Me too!

“Do you always believe you are the subject of mockery when someone introduces him or herself to you?” The Devil asked, stopping in his tracks when she called out to him.

“Darling, believe me, the Devil hasn’t even begun to rub you.” He replied wickedly. “I have told you my real name. Shall I translate it for you? I do not lie, nor do I come empty-handed.” He stated, retrieving the playbill from his pocket and offering it to the young woman.

“Cathy, see? Seems fair is fair.” He mused, smiling once again as he lit the cigarette at last. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m the most honest being you’ll ever meet.” 

It was then that his gaze locked with hers, more so than it had during the brief conversation, and the Devil leaned closer, a power radiating off of his very presence. “Tell me, Cathy, what is it you desire?” He demanded calmly, scouring the depths of her soul for the answer to his question.

“More than I’d care to admit” she quipped humorlessly, although she knew her sister was faring a lot worse in that department. At least Cathy had friends with her company and from the ballet school she attended after escaping Foxworth Hall.

Carrie’s grow had been stunted so horribly from the lack of sunlight, her head had grown out of proportion and she remained almost dwarvish short. Cathy remembered being the first to notice it, and the many times she and Christopher had worried about it with no way of helping the little one. Cruelty and mockery was a constant for the youngest. If only there was something she could do to help. Cathy had spent so many nights agonizing over it. 

Her eyes widened briefly at the suggestive retort, but she finally shrugged it off when he so obviously decided to hold onto this persona. Maybe he was crazy, some escaped mental patient and he had been hiding out at the theater to avoid capture. Cathy shifted uncomfortably momentarily. 

Though when their eyes met, it felt impossible for the blonde to break the spell. She seemed to lose herself completely in that stare. “Desire?” she repeated dreamily, feeling herself being drawn in even more. 

There was so much Cathy wanted, mostly for the surviving Dresden dolls. She wanted happiness, health and to live a normal life. But above all things, she wanted something forbidden, something unholy. 

“Christopher.” 

His lips were chapped terribly from the latest torture he’d been subjected to, and more than once did the smallest brush of his tongue sting rather than bring the much desired relief. 

Still, to feel the warmth of her lips on his didn’t hurt one bit. No, it was soothing the pain more than any balm ever could, and he hungrily grabbed her around the waist, pulling the blonde in impossibly closer. 

Missing her was worse than anything anyone could ever do to his body, and he had ached for her every moment they’d been apart. It should have stunned him into awkward silence if he’d been more aware of how much his feeling for her continued to grow, if he wasn’t too busy drowning in the one he loved. 

His huntress was perfect in every way, from the smokey scent of her weapons which clung to her skin to her scarred body, each telling its own tale of her heroism as well as her misery, each imperfection making her even more beautiful in his eyes. 

Tracing the arch of her upper lip eagerly with his tongue he clamped both lips down on it playfully, tugging a little before smiling and finally releasing her from one of the sweetest kisses in his long existence. 

Lucifer was accustomed to such greetings, but when it had been so abrupt, he could not help but seem affronted. “As far as conversations with me go, this was rather short. Leave? But the show must go on!” He whined, shaking his head as he retrieved his flask from a pocket.

He twisted the cap off and took a swig, offering it to the ballerina generously. “Was it something I said?” He asked, a flash of mimicked pain crossing his features.

“And here I thought you were looking to change your life, Cathy…” He mused, sucking his teeth a few times pitifully and frowning.

No, she had not shared her name, but he cleverly read the playbill beforehand and sensed that someone in this crowd cried out for his assistance, whether they knew it or not. He was certain it was Cathy. “If my leaving is what you wish, then I shall oblige. You obviously have your eggs in a basket, so who am I to be the fox to your hen?” He continued, shrugging as he plucked a cigarette from a fancy case in another pocket and retrieved a lighter, all the while making his way to the exit.

“I do not take kindly to being made a mockery of,” she answered flatly, glancing at the offered flask but otherwise ignoring it. Her own brows furrowed in turn when he shared his suspicions of her needing a change. Hadn’t she come out to New York to change her life? Hadn’t she run from the love of one man, only to be broken equally by the love of another? 

Cathy might be famous now, having realized that goal, but it didn’t make her happy. Not with Julian’s constant abuse. But then, didn’t she deserve it? Despite fervently denying it whenever she could, at the core Cathy knew she was sinful, and not just for what transpired between her and Christopher, but she was vain and prideful in her own way. She’d never truly escape that attic. Pain and horror followed her even now. Cathy didn’t have any eggs in her basket, and somehow this man knew it. 

Lucifer greased a few palms and sauntered his way backstage, finding the man on stage utterly dreadful. Thunderous applause for that? Oh, how the taste has fallen since William. He rolled his eyes at the thought just before they found an image, one which his attentions had been caught by roughly a half hour ago in the audience. Smiling wickedly, he perked up and adjusted his suit jacket at the ballerina’s question. 

“Am I.” He answered, brow lifted as he looked her over. “You were utterly magnificent. What is that buffoon still doing on stage? Magic tricks with his baboon arse?” He demanded, gesturing to the overly theatric…dancer (he applied the term as loosely as a child applies glue).

“Well, in that case, we can be either or!” He offered as their solution, humming We Are Family to himself. “I get around, darling; I know no boundaries.” He said, holding his hand out for hers.

He pulled it to his lips, the dastardly smile never leaving his features. “Pleased to meet you. Lucifer Morningstar, at your service.”

Her smile broadened as he complimented her, and although Cathy couldn’t deny feeling the urge to laugh at his pointed jab where Julian was concerned, there was a little warning voice telling her not to actually join in. If anyone heard, there would be hell to pay. Julian was the most talented, the most handsome, in every way the best --a true gift from God-- or so he believed anyway. 

Still, her smile stretched even further when he suggested he could be either her boyfriend or family. This man was strange to say the least, but entertaining for sure. “That’s a nice tune,” she commented at the brief humming as she slipped her hand in his, fully expecting him to kiss it at this point. Oh, how she had once dreamt of princes who would court their princesses in such a way.. She’d been her father’s precious little girl, perhaps a little spoiled with affection and then when he passed, all her romantic notions and dreams burst apart one by one, leaving nothing from the girl she had once been. 

Her heart stuttered in her chest when he actually lifted it to his lips, but then a cold dread sent chills down her spine. 

Lucifer Morningstar? 

Christopher or Carrie would never have sent this man as a prank. It would be too cruel a joke after everything they had endured together. She felt tar in her hair again, blood pouring from her whipped skin, hunger seeming to tear at the knotted stomach in its need for nourishment. Cathy even imagined smelling the musk of poorly aired spaces and a dusty attic as a cruel voice told her she was nothing, devil spawn, evil and sinful. 

Lucifer, the Morningstar, the brightest of angels was Satan according to the Bible she and her brother had read at Grandmother’s demand. Who was behind this? Was it her mother? Grandmother? Did they track her down? Why? Did they need to get rid of the evidence after all? 

Cathy didn’t know who this handsome man was or how he had made it backstage without anyone trying to stop him, but she couldn’t help but feel flattered by the effort he must have put into seeing her. Or perhaps he was important to the company and she had been too in the dark with Julian’s constant presence in her life these days-- constantly demanding her full attention. 

“Are you a fan?” she asked with a hint of a smile, quickly glancing behind him to make sure her dance partner hadn’t gotten tired of receiving all the glorious praise for their performance yet and decided to burst through her door. Cathy loved the flowers and applause, but she didn’t like when Julian took credit for her part too, and sooner or later, it was bound to happen. 

Guteral sounds came from the body as the floor began to shake

“if I go.. I’m taking her with me”

Fear. Doubt. Hesitation.