#erystos

"How far could she make it barefoot?" Erystos wonders. He's worried that she ran into trouble beyond the bad weather. "Maybe we should - "

"Shh!" Jo holds her hand out and they both go still.

Just over the drizzle, Erystos hears coughing in the distance. He and Jo exchange a look. She pulls out her bow and nocks an arrow, then nods. Erystos puts a hand on the handle of the knife strapped to his thigh and leads the way forward while Jo keeps an eye out behind them.

They reach a large, moss-covered tree that has been on its side for a long time, parts of it eaten away by creatures who have made it their home. The upturned roots form a little alcove just out of sight.

Jo steps around the tree first, at the ready. She immediately lowers her bow and sighs.

"Found her."

Sure enough, Seraphina is sitting with her knees pulled to her chest with her back against the underside of the tree. The angel is soaked to the bone, wearing only the t-shirt and shorts that she sleeps in. Her long hair hangs damp and limp around her. Mud cakes her feet and legs and there are scratches all over her face and arms.

Despite her miserable state, Seraphina still manages to look defensive and proud. She presses her trembling blue-tinged lips together and tries to get up on her own.

To Erystos' surprise, Jo is the first to offer a hand. When Seraphina hesitates to take it, Jo huffs and removes her cloak, tossing it over the angel's shoulders.

"You don't have to prove anything," Jo says. "Come on, we all just want to go home."

The cloak was fashioned by Jo using a coat hood and a wool blanket. It clasps together in the front with a belt buckle. It's too warm to resist; Seraphina reluctantly pulls it around her shivering body.

"And you don't have to walk," Erystos adds.

Seraphina meets his eyes. Her facade is crumbling. She looks as fragile and lost as the first day she realized that this was her life now.

Erystos approaches her not unlike a frightened animal. He holds his arms out.

"Come on. It's warm and dry inside, and there's food."

He expects at least a little resistance, so he's surprised when Seraphina closes the space between them and slumps against him The demon scoops her into his arms effortlessly and Seraphina allows it, curling up tightly and hiding her face in the fabric of the cloak.

"Look at that," Jo mutters, "maybe she likes us after all."

Likes is a stretch, but Erystos is heartened by the show of trust. He follows Jo's lead and they make the trek back home.

-

Between the two of them they get Seraphina cleaned up and dressed in dry clothing. She is quiet and cooperative, putting her arms in the sleeves and her feet in the socks, even allowing Erystos to braid her hair so it's out of her face.

When he's finished he lifts the edge of the comforter on Seraphina's bed. She crawls in and curls up on her side, her back to the demon.

Erystos lowers the blanket onto her, then pulls a second blanket from the end of the bed and layers it on top. When she doesn't stop shivering, he adds a third and tucks her in. That seems to help.

Seraphina closes her eyes and sniffles. "Maybe you're not really a demon," she murmurs.

Erystos chuckles. "Why do you say that?"

"Demons aren't gentle."

He doesn't argue. Considering her experience of the world so far, it isn't surprising that she feels that way.

"Get some rest," he tells her. "We'll wake you for dinner."

----

A heavy bag hits the ground with a thud, produce spilling out of it in front of Seraphina’s bare feet.

“ERYSTOS!”

The demon is slumped forward in a chair, one arm trapped in a device sitting on the table, and he isn’t moving. She rushes to his side and crouches before him.

“No, no...” she lifts his head. It’s limp and heavy in her hands, eyes shut, mouth slack. She pats his cheek gently, then a little harder. “Wake up!” 

She remembers a trick he taught her - two fingers pressed to a spot on the neck will tell you if someone is living or not. Seraphina feels around frantically. Where was it - here? - no...

It startles her to feel a rumble beneath her fingers and a low groan from the demon. She quickly moves to sit on one of his legs and cradles his head to her chest, breathing a sigh of relief. Out of habit she whispers a thank you up to the sky, though she knows no one is listening.

Slowly, Erystos comes to and as he does his pained groans grow louder. He nestles his face into her soft, warm skin, seeking solace there. Seraphina quietly shushes him and strokes her thumb up and down the back of his neck.

“It - “ he tries to speak. His voice is hoarse. “It - “

“I know. It hurts,” she finishes for him, or so she thinks.

The angel takes a breath and finally dares a look at his arm. Trapped and broken, the sight of it makes her flinch with sympathy. She touches his hand and finds his fingers cold and numb.

“Hold on...”

“It - agh!”

Seraphina flinches again at the sound but she’s determined to free his arm and get him to a bed. Her healing can’t fix this entirely, but she could ease the pain, bring him water, let him rest...

As soon as he’s able Erystos wiggles his arm free with a groan. It falls limply onto the table and Seraphina has to gently guide it over to take a closer look.

“Oh...”

His arm twinges in her hands, so bruised it’s hard to look at. She lightly caresses the damaged skin. Her fingertips glow white.

The effects are immediate. Tension eases from Erystos’ body as the pain melts away, at least for the moment.

He looks up at the angel, blinking slowly.

Then fear flashes in his eyes.

----

"She isn't here," Erystos growls.

It's true. Seraphina isn't at the house. Of course, he knows that isn't enough for the angel hunters. But he will die here in this dining room chair, held in place by binding spells, before he tells them where she is.

"We can see that," the leader bites back. "Tell us where she is and you'll never see us again."

Or her, Erystos thinks. "I don't know where she is," he lies.

Already impatient, the hunter opens his long jacket to reveal a variety of tools and weapons. Erystos can't help but feel a flutter of fear. He has endured a lot over the years but pain is still pain.

None of the tools seem to satisfy him, so he opens a backpack one of the others is wearing and rummages through until he finds something that puts an ominous grin on his face.

"Someone put his arm on the table."

One hunter holds a loaded crossbow to Erystos' head, letting the iron tip of the arrow to press against his temple just enough to sizzle, making the demon flinch. Another hunter moves the demon's left arm to stretch out on the table beside him.

The lead hunter walks over with an old metal vise and drops it heavily onto the table beside the demon's hand.

"Usually...I use this on wings," he says, spinning the handle to open it. "The bones are so brittle. You should hear them crunch.

Erystos' chest tightens at the thought of Seraphina's small new wings being mangled by that thing. He clenches his jaw and levels an unyielding gaze at the hunter. Go on. Do it.

The hunter slips Erystos' hand into the vice and pauses, toying with the handle. "Too easy," he mumbles to himself. He moves it further up the demon's arm and finally stops high up on his forearm, just below the elbow. He tightens it just enough for the cool metal to touch his skin.

To his credit, he doesn’t flinch. But a light tremor runs through him all the same, and he’s sure the hunter can tell.

“Every second you don’t tell me where the angel is, I’m going to turn this handle. When you black out, I won’t stop. I’ll just wait and move to another spot. Again and again, until you speak up, die, or there are just no bones left.”

Erystos responds with a low grumble in his throat.

True to his word, the man begins to twist the vise shut little by little.

The demon flinches this time, surprised by the strength of it. Within a few seconds the pressure is already beginning to hurt, but only on the surface...until it isn’t.

Soon agony bursts through him with every tear of muscle. He grunts and for the first time tries to pull away, but can’t budge an inch. Tighter, tighter, and he grits his teeth and starts to growl and groan. The binds around him flicker but remain in place; some hunters gasp.

The pain is beyond unbearable yet somehow it continues, tighter and tighter and tighter.

Erystos’ breath quickens. His stomach turns. Sparks dance before his eyes.

Then it stops.

It stops just enough for Erystos to come to and draw in several ragged breaths. He regains his senses and finds it within himself to cope with the pain.

It can’t go any further, he reassures himself. It won’t be worse than this.

But it can, and it does. The moment he’s caught his breath the hunter begins to turn the handle, putting all of his considerable strength into it, and the metal jaws close ever tighter.

“NNGH!”

A soft crackling sound, then a louder one drowned out by the demon’s roar as a bone snaps. Dizzying pain washes over him. Pulls him under.

----

----

“Is there anything I can do for him?”

The question is so sincere that Jo sighs, frustrated to not have a good answer.

“I don’t think there’s anything any of us can do. He just...needs time. Rest.”

“But he’s not resting,” Seraphina insists.

Jo walks over to the bedroom door and peeks through the sliver that it’s open.

Inside on the bed Erystos is curled on his side facing away from the door. She can’t see his face, but Jo can tell he’s still awake from the way he shifts and sighs and readjusts the pillow.

 She steps back and looks at the angel.

“Listen, I - I don’t think either of us can give him what he probably needs right now.”

“I won’t know that unless you tell me what you mean.”

Jo knows she isn’t going to win this one. Seraphina still has plenty to learn about earthly relationships if she hasn’t figured it out herself...but she’s also stubborn. The most stubborn person Jo has ever met, breaking her own personal record.

“He was just captured, mocked, roughed up and humiliated by his own kind. He might not just be hurting on the outside, you know?”

The wording briefly confuses the angel but it’s clear on her face when she realizes what Jo means. Seraphina has felt her share of inner hurts, even the one Erystos is going through now.

Especially that one.

It’s not at all unlike the way her own kind caused her pain and cast her out. That sharp, unrelenting hurt of knowing you no longer belong.

“I see,” Seraphina whispers. She steps towards the door again and Jo doesn’t stop her.

-

Seraphina slips into the dark room and closes the door slowly. She goes to his side, her bare feet soundless on the carpet. A breeze from the window ripples the fabric of her overly long night shirt.

She sits at the edge of the bed.

Erystos goes still but his breathing gives him away. Still awake.

Seraphina puts a hand on his arm. She is quickly learning the importance of touch to earthly beings. What it can communicate without words; the ways it can harm or heal.

After a long silence the demon’s hand slowly creeps up and settles over hers. Seraphina scoots a little bit further onto the bed and Erystos shifts closer to the wall to make space.

Seraphina doesn’t speak as she curls her smaller body around the demon from behind. She loops an arm over his side and presses up against his broad, solid back. Her forehead comes to rest between his shoulder blades and her legs bend to fit into the shape of his.

Erystos is tense a moment longer before finally melting into the embrace. He gives in fully to the offered comfort, holding Seraphina’s arm gently to keep it in place. He even hums gratefully when the angel gives him a little squeeze.

----

Seraphina thought she finally understood the rules of this world, but being in love seems to have no rules. Every day she thinks and feels things she never has before, leaving her at a loss for what to do.

Like now - standing on the back deck watching Erystos in the garden filling a basket with ripe tomatoes for dinner. It’s an overcast day and as he works it starts to lightly drizzle.

The soil beneath his bare feet quickly turns to mud. Undeterred, he continues his way up the row of plants, crouching and standing and pushing his wet hair from his face. His soaked tunic clings to his body.

Seraphina can’t take her eyes off of him.

Only when the basket is full does Erystos look up and see her standing there. He smiles just enough for his left fang to poke out over the scar on that side of his bottom lip. Suddenly she wants nothing more than to kiss him.

“You should come inside,” is what she says instead.

Erystos sets the basket aside and goes to stand in front of her. The deck is raised off the ground, putting the angel in the rare position of being a couple inches taller than her demon.

“You should come outside,” he counters.

“I am outside.”

“As you can see, it’s raining outside, and you’re still dry.”

Seraphina gives him a look but is smiling nonetheless. He’s too close not to touch, so she traces the curve of his horns. They look and feel healthy and Erystos no longer suffers daily headaches; perhaps they’re finally done regrowing.

She curls her fingers around the horns and gently pulls him closer until she can see every flicker of emotion in his eyes. Before she can lose her nerve, she dips down and kisses him.

Seraphina’s mind goes blank.

Erystos’ arms circle her waist and she sinks forward into him. He takes a step back, lifting her from the porch and out into the rain.

As they kiss he slowly lowers her to her feet. Even when they stop, Seraphina keeps her arms around his neck. Neither one makes any attempt to part.

Just like he taught her, Seraphina breathes deep and relaxes into all the wonderful, tactile sensations that come with being mortal in that moment. Cool rain against her warm skin, the squish of mud beneath her feet. Erystos’ large hands on her waist and his deep eyes fixed on her.

It’s almost too much. She shivers and shuts her eyes and Erystos is quick to wrap her in a snug embrace. His skin is even cooler than the rain but rather than recoil, she grips the back of his soaked shirt and presses closer.

Being in love has no rules and so she starts to make her own.