lies on the lips.

Sprawled out like a cat in the sun, Isaac perched himself in a café seat just outside of The Last Bean with a rather smug grin— sunglasses on and a full espresso resting on the iron table. He had become quite the regular since arriving in Rome and found that it had the perfect view of most of the city. Quite the sight now. Land that used to house large buildings had been leveled completely, causing major and noticeable gaps. A snicker flooded from his lips as sapphire eyes bounced around the scene, reveling in the spectacle and just how rousing it had all been. Finally a grand showing and the abomination could still feel the warm sensation it brought him. “Oh good, you made it,” a melodic tone as he moved to make space for the fellow demon's approach, “Beautiful morning, wouldn’t you agree?” It was a bit rhetorical, though he supposed the opinion of his fellow species mattered at least a little to him. Swiftly Isaac removed his shades, tossing them haphazard on the table before grabbing his drink for a quick sip. The bitter taste was almost soothing and brought about more ease to the abominations' features, “What did you end up getting up to anyway? The world’s your oyster or some connerie.”

Ex’s— a bitter sounding word that the demon was still struggling to accept and while Isaac didn’t sport it on his exterior, a burning sensation flooded him at her mere presence. They’d always loved her, even now as the soft red glow of the bar highlighted all Ayla’s features and unveiled bits of her other side. The side that was a beautiful creature capable of being terrible. Unconsciously, he nibbled at his bottom lip, nursing a cocktail that some lower creature had bought for him hours ago. Fingertips idly played with the water ringed napkin as his sapphire irises continued to look upon all that once was and could have been. An eladrin, that’s what he had heard around town, though he knew that Ayla hadn’t told him because she didn’t want him to know. But even in an overly populated city such as Rome, secrets couldn’t be kept forever and eventually those unwanted things would come to the surface. He’d leave it be for now, see what festered from the dust clouds and the rebuilding of a broken community before prying too much. It played at his pride, but while it was a rarity, she had more than earned his respect over the centuries. “I came by to make sure you were okay,” a melodious tongue despite the hurriedness that tried to leak in, a water downed beverage being more than enough evidence to convict him of falsehoods.

@isaaclefebvre​ location: Roman Catacombs notes: unhinged fey meets a bad influence

Something made the hair on the back of Yavie’s neck stand on end as the creatures his song had lured below the catacombs hovered a few feet off the ground, that paralytic that the eladrin had introduced to their system kept their limbs snapped into a state of petrification, their necks bent backwards as Yavie hummed about the enchanted space. He didn’t really like the thought of being disturbed, but fear wasn’t something that the fall eladrin had felt in months and it made him inherently curious. Zahrya had his pet demon tending to his garden even now, why couldn’t Yavie be allowed to make new friends too?

Theneras’ notes, his writings, and all of his works had been locked away by the Summer chancellor. Pretty rude, all things considered. Yavie didn’t understand why, so the path to discovery was one that he was going to have to start blazing anew, from scratch. How had Theneras done what he’d done? What else were the fey capable of? How much more powerful could they become? 

“You can come out you know,” Yavie called out, his voice light and bright as enchanted instruments played a melody about him, the low groaning of his subjects the quiet punctuation to his beautiful music magic. The fall fey was noble by birth, a warder to the prince of the fey, but while Farenduil was distracted by his grief, Yavie turned his attention elsewhere. He knew the court would not approve of this, so he setup this makeshift lab beneath the city, amidst dusty tombs and walls that had been decorated with the dead centuries prior. It was nice, cute, super aesthetic. “oh,” the fey added, “you’re so handsome.” The demon had chosen a very pleasing face to take. 

-

These days, it took a little more effort to get Isaac out from his usual dark corners and lurking in dusty ruins with relative interest. After emerging and making this new body his home, trouble was more than easy to locate to the point that part of him was growing numb to minor dramatics. Hadn’t Asmodeus shuttled his ravaged soul back into a flesh puppet for a reason? Not just to sit idly by while everyone else got to dip their fingers into the fun, playing with fire and causing a city to crumble. A kind of boredom had seeped into him as he was forced to lay in waiting, but that time was over now. Sparking sapphire irises peered around the catacombs as if he could see in all directions— could feel pandemonium that had erupted onto the streets and radiated from the fey that was surrounded by the melody.

The smell of decaying fall leaves drifted towards Isaac as he continued to observe from the shadows, drawn to the feeling of the last burning fires of the sun before long nights were accompanied by winter. The vessel Isacaaron had found held many of the same desires, the same features that managed to radiate from the other, and it was difficult to suppress the thirst twisting at his insides. A lust for trouble and an insatiable desire to touch it, two magnets pulling swiftly and dramatically.

“No need to flatter me,” but that was a blatant lie. Why else would Isaac have snaked his way in, certainly not to waste his time on someone who couldn’t sweet talk him at least a little. That was part of the foreplay. “You’re quite the treat yourself,” his voice was sticky and honeyed as his silhouette emerged and began to slither about the room, “and even have quite the little pad for yourself here, so welcoming.” At the final word, eyes darted back towards the druid as the two locked eyes and a venomous grin emerged, “One of Tatiana’s, huh?” Music continued to gently play around them as the roar and disorder only heightened the abominations mood. He had always found an interest in them and the amount of cruelty they could bring onto another without even blinking an eye. Many were just as ancient as himself and time had a way of bringing a sense of ruthlessness to even those who were rumored to shine, “What brings you all the way out of the forest to a wreck like this?”

“Don’t you ever get like— bored with this vampire scene?” Isaac was starting to perch himself inside Just A Bite more and more after the little incident at the faerie bash left Ayla almost dead, though that didn’t stop him from finding disinterest in the regularity of it. But after all these years, Isacaaron understood that not all found dullness in the mundane everyday tasks and he still had a lot to learn about this century he was in. Though there would always be patterns where mortals were concerned, such short lives that loved playing with fire and were doomed to repeat a history they never bothered to learn. Sapphire hues bounced about the room, looking at the sea of thralls that practically crawled around their chosen sire that all itched for another bite to keep the withdrawals at bay. “Or is that part of the kink?” His tone was honeyed, the craving of touch and lust embellished  just about all that walked into the establishment.

-

“There was once a child who was created for war, with siblings of the same design. Their father thrust weapons into their hands and turned them against their enemies in the name of conquest. The cause, as they called it, was righteous, and they believed it because their father would never lie to them. Would never deceive them. The alternative was that they were made to watch their siblings die in mass because of a vendetta that their father and their aunts and uncles held against a rival.” Viola closed the distance between the two of them, taking little pause in the story that had been regaled to her. 

“When the fighting was over, when the dead were buried, the child, Lucifer, asked their father for whom the fighting had been for. The answer was simple- mortals. Mankind. Humanity. For the witches in their infancy, the druids who were made to defend them, and this enraged them. But not for pride, pride would come later. Lucifer, the Morningstar, they saw a future when mortals would undo their hardwork, when chaos would return. When a blind man leads a family to the departed, when a storm ushers in the returned, when three become one, when a queen bequeaths her throne, when an eye makes a city blind.”   

“There is a war coming, Isacaaron, and an evil unlike anything either of us have ever seen. It doesn’t care about sins or virtues, and I fear the part I’ll come to play in it.” She could not be certain if it was Lucifer’s will to damn the world or to destroy it, but the Inferno would call her home eventually. A return to fire was the inevitable fate of all demons, but she worried for Vincenzo, the witch perhaps the only thing about her that was even remotely human. “From what you know of Asmodeus, do you think this ends well for us - for any of them?”

-

Hair raised on the host body as Isacaaron listened hungrily on Kore’s every word, the way loose fabric waved about her as if a frigid wind fluttered about the room. It was a reminder of what circle her soul had come from and what she would ultimately return to once her ties here were severed. Yet the focus of this tale was not of her own history but that of the one she had served for well over a millennium— the Morningstar. The abomination could say the same thing about himself in the grand scheme of things because he, too, was faithful to his King who remained loyal to the Emperor that they worshiped as Lucifer. A curve of his smile remained as her melodic tone echoed across the space, though only being in close proximity to the familiar would aid in capturing those divulged secrets. The ones that Isaac gobbled up currently as he leaned slightly forward subconsciously, fingertip of his pinky tapping hastily as the excitement boiled within.

The violence, the treachery— wasn’t the abomination ready for all of it? Hadn’t that been the very reason for Asmodeus choosing him and shuttling him up into this witch. There was an active loom over the entirety of Rome, anyone denying such was living with rose-tinted lenses.

A snicker busted through his snout, “Us?” Oh, how much he found this all so comical and amusing! She was right, of course. From what Isacaaron knew of Asmodeus, mayhem was brewing and there was no way to escape the turmoil for any. The once tapping fingertip swiftly stopped as his stormy blue eyes stayed attached to her obsidian irises, “Us matters little, our resolution will remain the same and our concerns have never been placed in what happens to any of them. Haven’t they chosen to serve the Python? Hungered to invoke creatures like us using blood magic because they desire the same level of violence and madness?” His words were honeyed, but there was a viper ready to strike within the undercurrent, “Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached?” An eyebrow flicked up at the question, suddenly curious if that was really the case.

It had been dark when she was taken to the faerie realm, a starlight sky above and she was on the hunt for answers. She had no need for sleep or rest, it was a footstep through an ancient roman archway when she had entered the fey court. The melody she heard proceeding her entering through a gateway was enchanting and one that reminded her of times long past, it seemed to sing of a once great bond destroyed by hunger and sharp teeth. The ribcage fasted with ease around her and it seemed the otherworld provided with a better weaponized self that she kept both contained and without doubt. Her mind had seen wars, rises and falls of empires and yet it gave easily to the temptation to indulge. Sipping from the sparkling wine and sampling the berry brioche that bled with a certain shade of red that made her hunger.

She feels the same chill crawl up her spine as when the other demon had approached, it was a different type of discomfort than she was expecting and she was disarmed easily by the blue-eyed and dimpled shell he walked in. Yet, still she never forgot what he was. She smiles at the compliment, returning his gesture of affection with a kiss on his cheek, a near accidental brush of lips that needed no attention. A blink and you’ll miss it moment, yet still she hungered. “You look handsome.”

Her mind is prey to the fey realm and it is only upon his question that she feels the undercurrent of danger behind the moss and dreams. “– I suppose I have. Have you?” 

-

Golden. Every inch of the abomination was etched with some form of the stuff and highlighted the onyx and sooty hues that rest just underneath. Each bit of his attire suited him, naturally, and spent no time in the evening trying to avert attention towards what he was— a demon. An abomination that only wanted to float around the fae bash as a social butterfly would, aiding in twisting minds towards more seductive desires. But instead, Isaac appeared on the outside to be a vision that continuously had to swallow a blaze that only the proximity to the hellscape could spark. “Suppose I have, too,” his tone was smooth and velvety, a stark contrast to what some of the other swings in mood altered in him and wondered if he’d finally grasped at a balance, “it's difficult not to when everything looks so enticing.”

Sapphire irises darted back to the vampire who held some of the fae fare in one hand, finding it tough not to snicker at the fact that a creature whose existence relies on blood rather than ingredients can’t even resist. “And appetizing?” an eyebrow cocked, though the fitting of his mask camouflaged this expression.

There was inevitably going to be some tension on Isaac’s part. He’d long ago lost any kind of empathy for what he could only describe as a vessel, a host body that’s use was to serve him and the abominations like him. Nothing more. But it was clear that Kore favored this set up for whatever reason she saw fit, acting as though being a familiar now would strip her from the creature she used to be, but Isacaaron would never forget. She was Hybris, just as he was Himeros, no matter how it was sugar coated. “So, you’re Vincenzo,” a fidgeting fingertip tapped like a Newton’s cradle, stormy blue irises boring into the witch that rested silently in front of him, but Isaac could see the cyclone inside.

It was almost funny to see the pride stricken demon more muted than he had formerly seen of her, as if looking to stalk any kind of shadow that might reveal itself in the fae domain. The usual twigs and branches were delicately entwined throughout the fabric of the dress, also housing themselves on her shoes, but one had to be close in order to truly see. Was that a product of the kingdom that had summoned them here in the first place or a reflection of their current self? He’d wager his bets mentally without speaking his two cents on the matter. Kore— that’s who he really saw as he strolled confidently over as a peacock would in their finery, her new name be damned to him currently. Not as if he was foolish enough to use it now or had any desire to do so, but the images of them together in their true forms flooded his mind and Isaac couldn’t help the nefarious smile that tugged at his gold laced lips, “You could bring Saint Francis of Assisi to his knees.” But she arguably always had that air about her. Nestled up close, the demon practically whispered, “So, what’s the word on the cobblestone? I know Titania didn’t bring us here to show a sudden change of heart.”

          masquerade gift for @isaaclefebvre​,

          “It’s unfortunate they’ve not been pickier with their guest list,” Dion offers coldly, even the enchanted spell the faerie court seemed to have him under could not subdue the feeling of piercing ice that shot through his veins when in the proximity of an Abomination. A gelid vexation warped the druid now, an amalgamation of fear seizing the strangely good time he had been having, all things considered. “We’re both a bit on the nose, aren’t we?” A nod to their masquerade get ups, both hardly hiding who and what they were. The civility towards the demon he could surely blame on his nullified feelings, the potent concoctions of food and drink doing a number on Dion’s common sense. 

-

Of course his attire was on the nose, Isaac had no desire hiding what he was nor would he fully be able to when there were so many here who could see through any kind of visage. Those who couldn’t, despite their role within the supernatural community, could be left wondering if he was simply Cambion or truly an abomination. Entertainment, manipulation— all part of the theatrics that surrounded any masquerade. If it wasn’t for the close distance to the hellscape, Isaac might actually be able to enjoy himself more but instead he perched himself outside the ballroom floor  like a snake amongst the bushes. Ready to strike if necessary and full of compliments or complaints depending on who passed him by. “I’d have to disagree with you there,” would the abomination have agreed with the druid regardless? A question for a different day, “This guest list is mighty intriguing.” How long had the fey Queen closed her doors, a shut-in that hid her with her fear behind walls, all the while claiming it was for the protection of her people. Too bad it didn’t matter, a war was to arrive at everyone’s door steps whether there was belief in that fate or not, “But suppose if we are trying our hand at chivalry, I do rather love the feathers.” Fingertips brushed the dark raven wings, finding a similarity to demonic wings that emerged in his other form and eyed the highlights of gold, “So tabou.”

It’s not something he’s really looking for, a conversation as he picks up coffee, but as per usual, he is too polite to brush someone off. The barista is chatty and Emory is all but held hostage at the counter, clutching his coffee and the lights in the place are bright, the music is loud, and his sunglasses are not for show. They hide bloodshot eyes and his gym shorts and tshirt combo scream ‘hungover’ but…Glancing to his right, there’s someone sat down, occasionally glancing in his direction. He’d apologize later. “Yeah, the last season was really good.” He tells the barista and then he’s smiling in the direction of the stranger and excusing himself only to seat himself right across from… He doesn’t feel it til he sits down and then Emory’s left blinking behind his sunglasses. Sitting across from a demon was not on his 2022 Bingo Card, but stranger things had certainly happened to him recently. “If you play along like I came here to meet you, I’ll tell you something you’re guaranteed to find funny.”

-

Fine. The flickering of a chaotic grin almost emerged itself on his lips before the casualness came through as he leaned back in his seat, “Good to see you up and about, thought for sure I wouldn’t hear from you for most of the day after last night.” He didn’t just enjoy playing the game, Isaac sometimes actively looked for it and these little coincidences were starting to add up in noticeable ways. Plus this gave him the rare chance to hopefully hear something of use, make a connection just like the abomination was shuttled up here to do. Cause some havoc, “Hope that’s a triple shot in that cup.” He nodded over to the glass before sapphire hues fully assessed the witch who sat before him. Even though sunglasses interfered with a clear view, Isaac could still catch glimpses of raccoon eyes beneath and the echo of exhaustion in the voice. Gorgeous despite it, held this whole air about him that felt malleable and wondered what someone in such a condition could offer a demon like himself, “Something funny, you say?”

who: @isaaclefebvre​

where: sidelines of the ballroom

If there was anything Kit valued it was control. Control of her magic, her emotions, her physicality, her autonomy, her mind. The problem was this: she was entirely out of control, and instead of the ferocious anxiety it usually produced in her, it felt good. That of course, caused a whole other type of panic, one that led her to lean heavily against the wall of the ballroom.  Anarchy of the mind, the heart, was not supposed to be something that made her feel more alive than she had felt in years. Grabbing a glass of some strange, golden liquid from a server, Kit swallowed it down in one gulp. Eyes catching on the empty glass in her hand, her expression turned wide eyed and horrified. She recalled some story her grandmother had told her about never accepting food or drink from the fey, and slowly slid down the wall in dismay. The skirt of her midnight blue gown puffed up like a mushroom, silver embroidery glinting in the candlelight. The tiles were cool beneath her. Even in her horror, her body began to feel light, a small smile ghosting across her face. Kit glanced up, someone had come and leant against the wall beside her. He was tall (of course he was, she was on the floor), and handsome. He smelled of smoke and the sweet iron of blood. A demon. Her head turned back to the ballroom, the fey palace, this place of timelessness and the power of growth and life. Her eyes found their way back to the demon’s. Kit maintained eye contact for a few moments, before finally huffing out a laugh. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

-

The blistering heat radiated through the abomination in waves, causing the most slight prickle on the skin of their host’s body. It hadn’t been that long ago that they had been within the hellscape and while Isacaaron grew to have an appreciation for it, being out of there served his liking more and gave him the freedom all in its depths sought. There was no giving that up yet, but it was difficult not to see warning signs— the omens. Why else would the Queen thrust them all into her little masquerade if it wasn’t to serve some kind of purpose? A distraction, of course, but the demon knew that there was more here that met the eye. Centuries of experience, most would call it, and the ability to know what deception looked like when they saw it. But that didn’t keep him from at least slightly enjoying himself and giving compliments to those who looked dashing enough to deserve such words, despite the growing nausea at the base of his belly. “Someone dressed in garments like these should not sulk on the floor,” a witch, Isaac understood, though obviously not afraid of a creature like himself and that stood out by the horns on her mask. Or maybe she was and just in some kind of shell shock,  “It should already be clear to you that we’ve been summoned here by the Court.” To sniff out a rat, more than likely, and manipulate the situation to gain the upper hand.