#f4usts

her hands smooth over the front of her jacket, a nervous habit, before she carefully lowers herself into the offered seat. posture straight. ankles neatly crossed. tail curls once around the leg of the chair like it’s deciding whether to behave.

❝ oh! well — when you say it like that, it sounds very dramatic. ❞

a soft, breathy laugh escapes her. too high. she clears her throat.

❝ i didn’t realize i’d… ah… been observed so thoroughly. i hope i’ve been a gracious representative of the family name. ❞

there’s a flicker there — subtle. she hates that she still seeks approval, if not from the beleaguered masses of sinners, then from supposedly closer ties. green eyes studying her. weighing her. charlie tilts her head slightly, considering his final question with earnest seriousness rather than defensiveness.

❝ redemption isn’t quite revolution. ❞ she says it gently, like she’s correcting a misunderstanding instead of challenging him. ❝ it only feels revolutionary because the current system doesn’t account for growth! ❞

hands fold in her lap now. composed. but her cloven foot taps once against the polished parquet floor, tucked politely beneath the chair. a small inhale precedes her explanation.

❝ eternal punishment assumes permanence. but people — souls — aren’t permanent in who they are. they change. they learn. sometimes it takes centuries, sure, but that doesn’t mean the possibility isn’t there! ❞

her voice grows warmer as she speaks, confidence knitting itself back together in real time. she leans forward now, mirroring him without realizing. ❝ i don’t want to overthrow the system. i want to prove it has room for mercy! ❞

a brief pause. then, her sprightly voice becomes softer, the passionate flame in her bright crimson eyes banked low:

❝ but if the only way to introduce mercy is to challenge the framework that excludes it… ❞ her smile returns — bright, almost sheepish. ❝ well. i suppose that depends on how... threatened the framework feels. ❞

there it is. not rebellion. conviction.

charlie straightens again, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. ❝ i’m not naïve about the scale of it. i know it’s ambitious. i know it upsets people who benefit from things staying exactly as they are. ❞ another glance at him — direct now.

❝ guidance would be appreciated, truly. resources too! but if you’re offering support, i would hope it's because you believe change is possible — not because it’s... an interesting disruption to manage. ❞

her tail, gently flicking, stills as she considers her next words. ❝ so, if we’re speaking as family… ❞ her expression softens — not pleading. not defensive. simply open. ❝ tell me the truth. do you think redemption threatens order? ❞

@f4usts beckons her heart ❛ i told you, you are not of humankind. ❜ &. 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

“ To  be  born  with  the  ‘soul’  of  a  demon  through  the  womb  of  a  human.  my  thirst  for  blood  incorrigible,  my  life  neverending.  I  feel  so  strongly,  how  could  I  not  be  of  humankind? "      There  is  a  connection  between  herself  and  The  Goddess;  she  sees  and  thinks  and  speaks  to  Her  through  the  soul.  There  is  no  extra  step  to  it.  She  simply  does.  It  is  inhuman,  demonic.  No  other  humans  could  do  such  a  thing,  and  no  other  demons  could  feel  so  strongly.  " To  be  neither  one,  nor  the  other,  but  a  secret  third  thing.  .  .  to  be  One.  Ooooh  .  .  .  ohhh  To  think  that  I  am  alone,  it  is  unbearable.  Alone.  Am  I  really  so  alone? ”

@f4usts beckons her heart flowers were delivered to her with a card, the handwriting was infuriatingly neat. it listed only a time for tonight and the name of a two michelin star restaurant. there was no signature. there didn’t need to be... she knew exactly who it was from ♡

THE  DEMON  PLAYS  HIS  PART  WELL.  Conspirator,  teacher,  lover,  husband  —  it  seems  like  nothing  could  ever  be  beyond  his  range  of  performance.  she's  heard  many  comments  from  passersby  of  course  ;  many  who  had  heard  of  her  special  circumstances  and  often  questioned  why  she  would  have  stuck  around  someone  so  ‘frustrating’  for  so  long.  Frustrating.  Untrustworthy.  But  no  one  really  knew  him  as  she  did.  roses  did  not  slur  her  understanding  of  this  situation   (  of  husband  and  wife,  and  titles  and  circumstances  )  and  she  knew  perfectly  well  why  he  had  sent  her  such  romantic  gestures.

BECAUSE  THE  DEMON  PLAYS  HIS  PART  WELL,  AND  SHE  IS  EVER  SO  FOND  OF  THE  THEATER.

The  wife  of  the  demon  brings  the  flowers  toward  her  face,  pressing  soft  petals  to  softer  lips,  and  let  her  heart  sink  further  into  the  abyss  that  is  this  accursed  'human  love'.  Never  once  had  she  wished  to  be  different,  and  never  once  had  she  wished  that  on  him.  Right  now,  Samael  will  be  waiting  for  her,  and  when  he  sees  her.  he  will  not  be  disappointed.  For  she  had  already  slipped  into  something  deeply  red  that  clung  silkily  along  the  curves  he  so  enjoyed  gripping.