F A L S E K I N G

“So uhh...the fuck are you talkin about creep?”

She grinned. Lifting her head, her sharp eyes pierced like daggers with their confidence. Her fangs unsheathed, reflecting the light catching off the polished marble floors. Atop her hands lay silver platters with round matching covers. An intoxicating scent wafted through the air. Cloves, nutmeg, ginger, black pepper, rosemary- the herbs danced and mingled into a rigid harmony. She licked her lips in slow, cocky satisfaction. Placing the platters onto the table, she lifted the covers. Laying them aside, she gestured gracefully over the dishes. Her tone was sickly sweet, dancing between patronizing and pompous; the voice of an imagined god.

“Le repas est servi.”

.Her eyes narrowed to hypnotizing slits, forceful, impatient, restraining the barest courtesy. Suddenly, she opened her mouth wide, a slew of words beyond her station tumbling head over heels off her tongue. 

“Tell me how much you love it, how much it makes your knees go weak. How it hugs and enraptures your senses. Ask for thirds, fourths, fifths. You’ll never eat anything like this again. It’s a meal to kill for, isn’t it?”

She slunk forward, her thick bangs casting shadows on her gaze. Still, her unnatural slit pupils savagely glowed; they burned like stinging, scorching coals. Her body stood sentinel, a wall shielding away the lights; enclosing the space between them in the cast of her shadow. 

HONESTY WAS A VIRTUE. And if the deity of change, god of wars, and child of light were to be completely and utterly HONEST, they would say kindly ‘I have no idea what this is’ The complexities of meals, composition of flavors, the textures and aromas, it could be categorized into either GOOD or BAD. They hadn’t the time to savor, even if Arita ate slowly they couldn’t pinpoint the most intimate minutia of it all. It saddened them to an extent that they were so IGNORANT to the culinary experience. But they would brush off that sadness quite easily in favor of being a happy - go - lucky godling.

Arita continued to eat, and eat, and eat. Chipper as could be they ate whatever it was they were eating, so thoughtfully served to them.   ❛   It’s very delicious! I would take on an army of THOUSANDS OF UNDEAD SOULS to eat this meal again! I don’t want to be a hassle though, so I won’t pry and beg for more.   ❜   Arita crooned pleasantly. Two hands were not placed gently in their lap while the rest idly rolled their wrists and stretched. 

She stuck her nose proudly into the air. Clenching a fist she raised it with vigor over her head. The glint of her bared fangs flashed blindingly under the lights. An ear to ear smile stretched across her face. Then, she froze.

The tips of her ears tickled with a fever of curiosity. The gears within her brain backpedaled in reverse. Her smile shrunk into a catty grin. Lowering her chin, her eyes widened like a mischievous child’s. She stuck her hands on her hips, slowly licking the edge of her lower lip. A spark of hunger kindled in her eyes. She spoke, eager, insistent, her tongue beginning to water alongside her words.

“What was that about, eating souls? Did I...hear you right? Do tell.”

Slamming her hands down upon the table, the plates rattled. Silverware jumped an inch into the air. A hissing growl seeped into every syllable as she exclaimed. The sparks in her gaze caught ground and blazed into a bonfire. 

“It could be a cutting edge discovery for food itself!”

@scornedson from my sc

The dry heat that crackled the air choked her gasp; her eyes flying open as she sat up with a start. Coughing, her wavy mane that had been so carefully managed was frazzled. Sweat rolled in beads down her cheeks. Darting her eyes around, the only sight that met them were tongues of flame. Jolting as a chill shot up her spine, she frantically stood. Suddenly she froze, her slit pupils dilating and a ball blocking her throat. Patting herself down, there was not a lick of flame charring her clothes. Still the circle of flames and blood red sky above her crackled. Licking her lips, she cautiously extended a hand toward the edge. Her heart thudded violent and frantic in her ears- wait, her heart? Why was there silence? Her fingers were met with not a single burn. Shifting her feet, she took tentative baby steps forward; her head buzzing, her mind spinning in a daze as if she’d dunked it in pea soup. Taking a deep breath, though she felt no air hit her lungs, she desperately shouted. 

“Where the fuck am I?! Is anyone here? Hello?!”

        the part of hell that held him in his cage—-the little piece buried way, way down past every layer of tormented souls—-was made up of unending darkness and solitude. The cage itself liked to play it’s own tricks, it was hell’s true greatest torturer despite what the demons believed among themselves, and lucifer had only grown nearly unaffected, even accustomed to it, thanks to his status as an archangel and the countless millennia he had spent alone within it.

         it still liked to try sometimes, though.

         the only plausible explanation for the soul down here with him suddenly, yelling out in panic. trying to torment him with company now? it seemed like an odd choice. he thinks about just ignoring it until whatever it is goes away, but has been a long time since he’s spoken to anyone at all—-since azazel had sacrificed all those nuns to contact him, decades ago now. centuries had already passed down here.

         perhaps some entertainment could come from this, real or not. a new way to pass the time.

“Hey asshole I’m not hear to amuse you! If you can hide like a scared little girl then you can tell me where I am. Better yet, I’ll make it worth your while if you tell me how to leave too.”

 A crocodile toothed grin leaked into her sickeningly sweet voice.  As she spoke her fingers inched into her right pocket. There was only empty space. Her breath hitched, her eyes bulging in their sockets. Sharply she cast her face down. With a desperate tug she pulled at the pocket lining. Turning it inside out, lint balls fell between her grasp. In seconds her lips twisted into a snarl; her dulled fangs unsheathed. Her brow knit. Seething rage exploded off the tip of her tongue as she exclaimed. It rattled the thick shadows like a frag grenade.

“Where the fuck are my knives?! Start talkin right now weird voice.”

shokugeki no soma + favorite characters