#;atticus

In the Meme Vault

“You must not know me at all, stranger.” Replied Alan, biting off Atticus’ assessment of him as sharply as he might have liked to bite the man’s throat. “If you did, you would know not to address your King in such a manner.”

Perhaps Atticus wasn’t of his kingdom. That hardly mattered--one needed to be respectful of the ruling monarch if they would dare to pass through. One needed to be reminded of their place, especially if they wanted the King’s coin.

“It is your own fault for striking deals with anyone and their uncle. Perhaps you should screen your clients better,” Jean said, bored. She glanced at him briefly, then turned her hand over to inspect her nails, a theatrical gesture, yet at the same time, somehow natural. So far, she hadn’t spared the human a single glance from the moment the girl was brought into the room by a couple of Atticus’s lackeys. Jean did not despise the flesh bags the same way Atticus did (after all, she had been one herself a few centuries ago) but they absolutely bored her out of her mind. There was no variety. They all ended up sniveling, sobbing, pleading messes on the floor, and once you had seen one human break you had seen them all. The demoness brushed back her sleek hair, a lazy gesture in harmony with the disinterested look on her face, and finally turned to the girl. “Will you please answer him so we can move this along? Unlike Atticus here, I have actual work to do and don’t have time to play.”

Jean’s commentary caused Atticus to turn his head slightly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. A slow smile surfaced while the colour of his eyes darkened significantly, lending his smile a far more sinister air. “Perhaps that’ll be your new job.” He teased, the tone at odds with the warning his eyes represented. Usually, Atticus liked to use the strengths of the individual demons in his employ, and he attributed a lot of his success to that fact, but he had no qualms about demoting Jean for a time. Whether or not there was an immediate likelihood of that happening, however, wasn’t made clear. Then he turned his attention back to the sobbing human, another smile on his lips, eyes cold but attentive at Jean spoke again. The human sniffled, shaking slightly as she looked to Jean.  “I-I...” Then she broke into another bout of crying, curling in on herself, hands in her lap, head bent in deference. Atticus clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Come on now, love. All you had to do was get me a bit of information.” He pushed back his chair and stood, rounding the desk to approach the human. “You could have been done with it by now.” Well, until the next assignment anyway. The human looked up, eyes wide and pleading. “I can’t...” she whispered, and Atticus nodded sympathetically. “Can’t? or won’t?” She sighed, bending her head again. A moment passed before she spoke quietly, just as Atticus reached her; “Both.” The demon reached down, easing his hand down over the back of her head before suddenly curling his finger around her hair, yanking her onto her feet in one swift motion. The human screamed, scrambling to stand. “Don’t... plea-” was all she managed to get out before atticus held up his hand, suddenly holding her torn tongue. Gargling, she coughed up blood, crumbling onto her knees again as Atticus let go of her hair and dropped her tongue onto the floor before her with a dramatic sigh, as though she’d forced him to exert himself needlessly. “Now -” he turned back around to Jean, “what’d you need?”

“Disgusting …” Nathara commented as she looked at the pitiful creature kneeling at their feet while leaning into Atticus’ side. Humans were so weak, so fragile, and after an eternity of doing so she had grown tired of breaking them. They bored Nathara at this point, hence, why she couldn’t even appreciate the girl’s tears as she once used to. “Can we just kill her now, to end our suffering and let hers begin?” the dark-haired beauty purred, an arm resting over his shoulder before she tilted his head with her free hand and pressed a kiss onto his lips. “We could let her bleed out, it would be fun to watch as the life leaves her eyes.” she whispered against his lips, a wicked smile resting on her features as she locked her gaze with his.

Atticus wasn’t paying much attention to Nathara except for the constant prickling in the back of his mind, reminding him that she was there. But she had been with him for so long, that sensation was almost part of him at this point; he didn’t need to pay it any mind. He did not, however, miss the note of boredom in her tone as she spoke, interrupting the human as she was about to stumble her way to some sort of incoherent argument. What they, as the result of Nathara’s words, got instead was hysterical begging, the woman’s voice shrill with emotion. Atticus clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Now look what you did,” he teased Nathara as he allowed the light pressure from her fingers to turn his head. A low hum vibrated in the back of his throat and his teeth grazed her lower lip as she pulled back from the kiss, his eyes a few shades darker when they met hers. “Tempting,” he replied, “but you know the rules.” No refusal meant no breach of contract, which meant he couldn’t technically collect the human’s soul. And if there was one thing Atticus didn’t do, it was lose profit. He brushed his lips against hers before he stood from his seat behind the desk, turning to smile at the human whose screaming was now just sobbing and quiet prayers. He shushed her gently, moving to crouch down before her. “Tell me you refuse to do what you’ve been asked, and you can go.” He assured her, voice silky smooth. She was one more gentle nudge from crumbling in front of him. 

“Been summoned by any bitter teenage girls lately?” He questioned, catching the small crystal ball he’d just thrown into the air. He hadn’t seen her in... a decade? But then, it’d been like that since she was barely a century old. She’d get mad at him and disappear for a while, then re-appear because she needed something and so the cycle continued. Leaning back against the edge of his desk, he rolled the cold material in his palm, eyes never leaving her. “I mean, something must have kept you occupied all this time.” @mversefunhouse

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