#eldritch-spouse

You’re pretty dazed when you step into Perdition.  

The events leading to this moment were stressful. Losing so much in so little time, having nowhere to turn; it’d all be overwhelming on its own. As it is you’re trying very hard not to break down in front of Ludwig, your new acquaintance.  

But moving to hell? That’s a whole new level of crazy you’re not quite ready to deal with.  

You take in your surroundings with a distant sort of interest. Ludwig leads you through a rough looking neighbourhood. It’s not the nicest place, sure, but you’re taken aback at how mundane the place is. Sure, there are demons in every window, and clustered around some doors and corners. There’s the flash of magic here and there, and things you'd rather not look too closely at. But it had never occurred to you that demons would require housing too. Would have their own suburbs and addresses. 

You’d laugh if it wouldn’t trigger a coughing fit. 

“So, I know you’re probably feeling,” Ludwig glances down at you, searching for a tactful word, “delicate, about now. But there’s a chance my family will be home.” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“Yeah. We were supposed to do dinner this week. But then you were in hospital and I had to postpone. My brothers will probably be lurking around until that’s dealt with.” 

Meeting people. You could handle that. Perhaps not right now, when you’re still clad in a hospital gown, and stumbling from exhaustion. But maybe after a nap? 

“Ok.” 

You travel another block or so before Ludwig comes to a stop before a two story home. It’s fairly unremarkable, if a little worn down. You might call it well lived in. 

He mutters a curse. “They’re home.” 

You wince. “I haven’t-” you hesitate to say you haven’t met a demon before. After all, you’ve known Ludwig for about a day. But still, meeting more than one right now is intimidating as fuck. Being here makes you nervous enough that you almost forget the week you’ve had. “Uh. Is there anything I should know before I meet them?” 

Ludwig frowns. Bothered, but it doesn’t feel directed at you. “Do you need a crash course in demonology?” 

“Uh,” you just want to sit down. “Not today?” 

His face crinkles some more. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, with his eyes always kind of closed. He lets out a long breath. “Obie is a glutton. Literally. He’s chill, but don’t leave anything small around him. Or your food unattended, if you’re particularly attached to it. And Mervin is a pride demon. He talks a lot of shit that he only means half the time. Expect to be criticised. It’s absolutely a front, but he can’t help it.” 

You bite your lip. “Sounds... kind of stereotypical?” 

“They’re stereotypes for a reason.” 

You realise you’re missing a key piece of information. “And you are..?” 

He blinks. (You think.) Then cracks the first smile you’ve seen him give. “Not obvious then?” 

You look him over. He’s of average build, a light red in colour, hooded eyes that he barely keeps open, and a set of ribbed horns of moderate size. Perhaps his type might be obvious to another demon, but you don’t know enough about demonic physiology to hazard a guess. 

“You slept through a building fire. Are you from Sloth?” 

He leans back, surprised, you think. “I’m from the common ring. Type is genetic.” 

You wait. 

“I thought you’d guess based on,” he waves at himself, “colour, but yeah, sleeping through a fire is a bit...” he trails off. “Let’s not tell my family about that.” He stands straighter, recovering. “I’m actually a wrath demon.” 

  You should probably feel something when he tells you that. Concern. Fear. Something. But you’re experiencing something akin to post exertional malaise. And it’s definitely rounding off your thoughts with apathy.  

You shrug. “Okay.” 

He seems confused. “Okay?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. How am I supposed to react?” 

You’re pretty sure he’s staring. But after a moment he slouches. His voice softens. “Did you have any questions?” 

“Is there anything you think I should know?” 

He turns away. “Uh- not really. I... I know humans can scare easily. I’ve a bit more awareness of my outbursts than some wrathful types. Just... I suppose, ask before touching my things?” 

It sounds easy enough. You look up at the house with a sigh. “Alright. Can we get this meeting over with? I’d like to shower and then sleep for another week if possible.” 

He smiles again; the slight turning up of his lips. “That could be arranged.” 

--- 

Any other day and you’d be intimidated as fuck. Strange house, strange people, strange new rules, and you don’t know the half of them.  

You take comfort in the fact that Ludwig’s brothers are just as surprised to see you. The purple one – Mervin, you learn – stares daggers at you, silently contemptuous. Obie, the yellow demon with crooked horns, at least smiles, and shakes your hand.   

Then Ludwig is whisking you away to the spare room. “This used to be ma’s room. She didn’t leave a lot behind, but there might be an outfit or two. There’s an ensuite so you can have that shower you wanted.” 

“An ensuite and nobody uses this room?” 

He snorts. “We could never agree who got the room after ma moved out. To put things lightly.” 

The room is plain but it’s the nicest you’ve stayed in in a long time. The bed and wardrobe alone are luxurious compared to the hotel you’d been staying in. The clothes are a different matter.  

After rummaging through the drawers you hold up some pants, and try not to frown. “I think your mum’s body type is very different to mine.” 

Ludwig eyes the pants and huffs. “Yeah. I’ll see if anything of mine would fit you better.” 

He brings you some supplies. A towel. Clothes. Some soap. And then you’re left alone.  

--- 

Obie manages to keep his questions to himself. Even Mervin had kept his comments to a minimum, instead leveling Ludwig and his human with looks that could be deciphered as exasperated. Appalled. They wait until Ludwig comes back downstairs before facing him. Even then, they managed to hold off a little longer, until the sound of the shower begins upstairs, before giving him a proper dressing down. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

“You missed ma’s birthday for a human? Do you know how devastated she was? You could have called? Texted? Sent a fucking letter-” 

Ludwig sighs. Claps Mervin over the back of the head – somewhat viciously - before sitting at the table. “I did call, Merv. I told ma what had happened and got her damn blessing to stay on the surface. You’re just mad I didn’t tell you.” 

“Of course I’m mad. I cleared my schedule for this! What could be so important that you could just blow us off?” 

Ludwig laces his fingers under his chin. Would happily tell Mervin- if he hadn’t kept ranting. Pacing around the kitchen, gesticulating with anger. He shares a look with Obie, one honed by decades of dealing with the pride demon’s antics together. 

Obie understands. Gets up. Herds Mervin into a chair (even as he keeps talking). Cages him in with hands on his shoulders. 

“Shut up, will you? Do you want his explanation or not?” 

Mervin cuts off, sneering at his brothers. “Fine. Speak.” 

Ludwig grits his teeth. Has to swiftly decide which parts of the event to share. Not the drunkenness. That would just worry them. And if he tells them what you actually did to help, they’d probably experience the same bewilderment, the same condescension as he had. Mervin would have nothing but scorn for you, forever mocking your intelligence.  

“I was doing a layover in some backward little town when the locals tried to hate crime me.” 

His brothers straighten, attention immediately caught. 

“I’m fine. Obviously.” 

“What did they-” 

“They set the hotel on fire.” Ludwig huffs at their expressions. “I know right? Anyway, the girl tried to step in and help. People weren’t happy about it. She lost her home for the trouble. I offered to let her stay here or a while.” 

Mervin almost fluffs up, objections ready to spill, but Obie beats him to it: “That doesn’t explain why you were gone for several days.” 

Ludwig winces. He supposes they will find out about your blunder after all. “She’s been in hospital. She charged into the fire to try and help me. Inhaled a lot of smoke.” 

Mervin scoffs. “So she’s stupid.” 

Obie digs his fingers into Mervin’s shoulders. “Sounds like she’s kind.” 

Ludwig shrugs. “A bit of both, from what I can tell.” 

Mervin still sneers. “And nobody else could take her?” 

“No. I did not get that impression.” 

Obie shrugs. “Then there’s only one thing for it. She stays.” 

Mervin frowns. He’s definitely going to complain. But Ludwig spears him with a look that leaves little room for argument. 

Instead he stands. Scoffs, as he shoulders Obie aside. “You’re a bunch of soft-hearted fools.”  

--- 

The family dinner is rescheduled for the next day. You don’t care for the details, as long as you’re allowed to sleep. Using a real bed, in a quiet room is a wonderful treat compared to sleeping in a hospital ward.  

You woke when Ludwig had knocked. He’d brought you a bag of chips – a surface brand you recognise. You tore into those rather than risk the kitchen and running into the other occupants of the house. 

You’re not sure how much time had passed when you finally creep downstairs, drawn by the smell of cooking food. You’d slept in. Presumably. With the strange lighting in Perdition, the lack of clocks in your room, and your phone being flat, you haven’t an idea of the time.  

The yellow one is busy in the kitchen, cooking with practiced ease. There’s meat in a frying pan, while eggs cook in another. You watch as Obie cracks an egg open– it's large, too round, and certainly not from a chicken. You almost miss the way he tosses the shell. It flies in a perfect arc before landing in his open mouth.  

You hide your wince before making your way to the dining table. Ludwig sits at it, in deep conversation with another yellow demon. This one a plump woman with her hair styled neatly. You try not to stare, but she’s honestly the first demon you’ve seen with hair. 

Her deep green eyes flick to you and she smiles. Her voice is pleasant. Sweet. “This is her?”  

Ludwig nods, and introduces you to his mother, Katia.  

She seems lovely; fussing over you while you wait for dinner and asking if you’re well. She asks about your pain, your sleep, how you’re settling in. When the conversation meanders back towards herself and her family she chats about her sons in a way that’s frankly endearing. You catch a darkness on Ludwig’s cheeks that might even be blush.  

You actually manage to relax, smiling and nodding along politely, answering questions here and there. Thankfully she doesn’t ask you anything too personal. It goes on until Mervin joins you at the table and Obie brings out the food. 

You stand and offer to help, to set the table, but Obie and Katia brush you off, the later insisting that you’re a guest, that you’re unwell – you should be resting.  

They’re not wrong. Even the small amount of conversation that you’ve made has left your throat feeling agitated. You have to use your new inhaler before settling in for food.  

Obie serves you your plate. There’s eggs, toast, sausages, and fried meat. It all looks familiar, but distinctly off. The egg yolks are too small, too green. The meats have an almost purple sheen. The toast is oddly shaped, like it had risen differently. 

Still, you don’t want to be rude. 

It’s been said that you’re a little stupid.   

You certainly do nothing to detract from that argument when you cut a small piece of meat and toast and take a bite. 

In your defence, you’re hungry. You’re being polite. You don’t want to rock the boat by asking somebody to accommodate for your very basic and important needs. 

Regardless, you can’t help but hesitate at the taste. You chew carefully and swallow while sensation spreads across your tongue. 

“So... what are we eating?” 

Four heads turn your direction. They blink. 

“Oh fuck,” Ludwig swears. 

You pale at his oath, freezing before you can cut another bite. 

The taste begins to sink in. Savory. Rich. Intense. It’s nearly overwhelming the way your mouth alights. You do your best to keep a straight face, but fail.  

Mervin mutters something. Some insult. Some comment on your intellect. While Obie jumps up. Fetches a glass from the kitchen and fills it with water. “I’m so sorry, Bon. I completely forgot- here, drink.”  

The water helps. Barely. It still takes a minute for the taste to start to fade. You end up drinking the whole glass, hoping to dilute the taste of whatever the fuck you just ate. Not that it was bad. Just... unexpected. Overwhelming. You’d never had a taste threaten to overwhelm you before. It's certainly a new sensation. 

There’s a myriad of embarrassed looks around the table. You’re glad you’re not the only one. Hoping to diffuse the tension, you joke “Nothing poisonous I hope?” 

Obie shakes his head. He looks almost downtrodden. “No. Just... food local to these parts. I forgot that humans aren’t used to it.” 

“I’ve some junk food stashed in my room,” Ludwig stands, “Earth brands, so it should be safe.” 

Obie shifts, “yeah, about that...” 

Ludwig stills. Stares hard at his brother, you think, before turning and stomping towards his room.  

There’s a silence before- 

“You insatiable fucking rat. What have I told you about touching my things?”  

“Mervin, go stop your brother from getting too worked up.” Katia intercedes, calm as still water. “Obie, you need to replace what you took. Now.”  

Obie grumbles and stands. He picks up his plate and literally tips the contents into his mouth, jaw unhinging impressively to accommodate the mouthful.  

You try not to gape.  

He turns to you. “Wanna come with? You can pick out the foods you like?” 

You glance towards the hallway, where you can hear two raised voices, now coming closer. It’s an easy choice. 

You join Obie by the door, stepping into the sneakers Ludwig had leant you. “Sure.” 

--- 

 It’s an effort not to gawk at everyone you pass. Now that you’re rested and slightly more cognisant, everything around you seems novel. You’d flitted from small town to small town for most of your life. Hadn’t seen many monsters at all, let alone demons.  

Here, they’re everywhere. And you notice, with gradually increasing discomfort, that they’re also very much aware of you. 

You make it to a market. Obie grabs a shopping trolley and leads you towards the ‘interspecies foods’ aisle. They have a basic selection of human foods there, but there’s enough that you won’t have to eat the same thing every day. Mostly. 

Obie carefully picks out some sweets and chip packets, scowling all the while. “I can’t even remember the specifics. Do you think he’ll notice if I get the wrong chocolates?” 

You spare him a glance, before going back to monitoring your surroundings. There are even more eyes on you now. “I don’t know. As long as you get him a kind he likes?” 

He hums his agreement, and starts filling the cart, comically emptying out an entire shelf. 

“I think people are staring.” 

“There’s a glutton in a grocery store, of course they’re staring. You gonna pick what you want?” 

“Will they take my money?” 

He pauses to consider. “No.” 

Your stomach picks a bad time to rumble. 

Obie gives you a pat on the head. “Not to worry. This time it’s on me.” 

You’re relived, but your anxiety only lessens marginally. This family is already housing you. You don’t want to rely on them for food too. Gratitude tends to run thin in the face of inconvenience.  

You pick out a couple of things. Sandwich fodder. Cup noodles. Milk. But Obie doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance and empties out several more shelves of your favoured foods. Soon you have enough stock to last you weeks.  

Maybe he does notice. Because he prompts you to pick something else. Firmly redirects you towards the aisle again when you make to leave. “Nobody goes hungry in our house.” 

Until the shopping trolley is full. To the point where overflow is a risk. You watch Obie balance more onto the precarious pile, impressed by how much he’s managing to carry. 

The sight fills you with amusement. Enough that your anxieties ease, if only for the moment.  

But once you leave the store, your concerns resurface.  

“They’re still staring.” 

You can’t help but glance down at yourself, self-conscious. You are wearing a pair of tights from Katia’s supply and one of the shirts Ludwig had leant you. It’s oversized, but not horrendously so. 

“Don’t worry, Bonbon, they’re staring at me.” 

There’s that nickname again. It’s sweet. Almost ridiculously so, and you’re not sure if you’ve done anything to earn it. It distracts you enough that you almost forget the stares. But you can’t help but circle back to them.  

You don’t really believe him. Maybe some of the stares are levelled at him? But it seems to you that everyone is gawking at the human. 

“Why would they be staring at you?” 

“Well, I’m kind of ugly.” 

Your head jerks in his direction, unbidden. You haven’t heard somebody describe themselves so frankly since- well you’re not sure if you ever have. 

You regard him carefully. Search for the source of his comment. He’s the same build as his siblings. Yellow, in a pallor that is obviously inhuman. Average, as far as demons go, with two horns and tail. His horns are asymmetrical; curved and bent unusually. He has the same thin spade tail as his brothers, except the length of his is visibly kinked in several places. It lacks fluid movement – twitchy almost in a way that makes you think of broken bones and nerve damage.  

Still. You wouldn’t consider him ugly. Just different. “Are you?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs. Gestures to what you had observed. His horns. His tail. 

His casual demeanour is almost forced. You start to suspect that he was being quite serious when he called himself ugly. 

It bothers you enough that you step closer to him and speak in a murmur, “you look fine to me.” 

He huffs a smile. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it.” 

His lightness irks you. You almost pout. “Nobody here looks normal to me. I don’t know what demons are supposed to look like. So you can believe my unbiased opinion when I tell you that you look fine.” 

He looks away. Seems to consider. Before shrugging. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

You can tell he’s not taking you seriously. This time you do pout. You push past your discomfort and link your elbow with his.  

His head whips towards you, surprised at the contact. 

You ignore his shock. “I’ve got a lot of gaps in my knowledge about demons. Want to fill me in while we head back?” 

He turns away, quiet for a moment, before shrugging again. “What did you want to know?”