Observations from a Demon’s Wife Pt. II - Folie à Deux (Blood is Love’s Ink)
The conditions in which you regain consciousness directly correlates to the standing of one’s relationship. For instance, after being drained a little by my husband, Mephisto, I will wake up as such. In bed, in clean clothes, cleaned up, and he’ll be wrapped around me like a guardian beast. The most notable indication of his guilt and shame is seen in his eyes. He lowers his head, tilted down, and only glancing briefly in my eyes like a scolded puppy.
The first time this ever happened was a regretfully explosive exchange between us. We had been out for dinner when my lips twitched into a small smile when the waiter’s gaze lingered a fraction of a second too long. My response was casual nervousness, but Mephisto took it as a slight. A slap to the face, if you will. He was quiet during dinner and I spent most of the time at the restaurant trying to coax him out of whatever tantrum he was having. Unfortunately, when someone is stuck inside their own ego, they tend to lash out in subtle ways like a knife hidden in their sleeve as you reach for a handshake.
I won’t detail the verbal exchange as we trudged to the car, but it was unpleasant at best and vile at worst. At the time, my beloved husband could not articulate his feelings, all he felt was this imagined betrayal. I had made it to the car and my fingers were hooked under the door handle as I spat out, “I need some time alone.” And that’s when his mercy snapped. My back was turned to him when one bony hand grasped my upper arm and the other cupped the column of my throat. He panicked thinking this was how he’d lose me, or worse, how he’d keep me. And then my eyes flew upward and my mouth agape as if to catch the tranquil stars above as my body seized every muscle, pinned to the pink limousine.
If you’ve ever come across a trapped animal, you know better than to rush to aid them. Too much haste, and they’ll tear their own leg off just to flee. Too cautious, and they’ll die slowly from the inside out. Despite being the victim, I knew I had to be careful about reassuring my husband that our relationship wasn’t broken beyond repair. No matter what I said in measured tone, he continued to keep his distance, dodging every reflective surface like it bore a curse. Though, of course, we have moved passed this since then. I’d like to think he was perfect from the beginning, but that would be a lie. Demons are just as susceptible to the heart as humans are. We were both a mess, but take two messes and you make art.
And so, I reiterate confidently, the way you regain consciousness is directly correlated to the stability and longevity of one’s relationship with a demon. Most consorts and lovers of lesser demons wake up where their body dropped and they know they’re used. Some never wake again… Ever since then, Mephisto has had moments of insecurity, and I have been marked up, bled, and knocked out a few times, though he has improved greatly. And I’ll admit, as the little hedonistic woman I am, that I’ve offered myself up just to feel that high of being able to truly trust a cosmic being with my life. And he relishes in my trust and vulnerability, and tastes it in my blood with an ever widening wickedness on his lips splashed in red across his face. And all I can think in my final moments of consciousness is… such marvelous, eternal art love makes with just one color.
Hehe! Hope you enjoyed this little excerpt 💖 These are fun to make up on the fly. 💖💍💜
