Drifting mindlessly, fearlessly through the gates of Hell,  the prayers of mortal man echo silently through the back of her mind. She is an outlier of blue among the sea of dreary, suffering souls that march like cattle to their final place of torment. Against the dark, blistering landscape that demons call home, the soft source of light in a place where heaven’s light could never reach draws the eyes of demons from their perches as the herders of the damned. 

     Perhaps they smell the blood on her hands, or the hollowness that lingers in the womb. They’re VULTURES, eager to dine on the misery of mortal man’s soul. They know better than to touch the light. If they did, perhaps she would infect them with her sorrows. The Moon knows to keep her eyes forward, to walk wordlessly into the depths of Hell in search of a MONSTER chained at its center. She had led the dead here countless of times, but never had she gone further than the gate. For the first time she takes fate into her own hands, and she moved forward with the mindto brace for the worst. It had to be done.  She was too soft. Too inexperienced to make a difference ; It was a hefty price she paid for it all. Too easily was she swallowed by the sea of foreign emotion, and in the waves she had done damage far too severe to be undone. The nameless Moon could not return to see those faces -- of the living, nor the dead. It all hurt too much... In her palms, the silver staff glows brightly in warning to the farry man and the gargoyles that leer above.

       It was the servant she needed to meet. The spineless serpent of a goat, Azazel. She was half certain he was already following her to report back to the shackled king himself. Alas, she thought of the little demon, and from the corner of her eye he came. The light specter leaps in a blurring beam of blue -- a predator upon the meekest prey -- cornering the Devil’s servant with the threat of her guarding staff. “ Be still, ” she spoke harshly despite her soft voice, her open hand reaching quickly upon the demon’s head. “ Hush now, please...”

Despite her position, her features expressed troubled desperation in her twinkling eyes. She dare fall so low, she came to the DEVIL for help.

“ Please, Azazel.. I need you to take me to Lucifer..”

Satan: Everyone wants to fuck me.

Soon after the convict’s screams subsided once the final blow was given on the breaking wheel, it took all of Andre’s strength to not collapse on his knees while still on the platform.  The teen felt dizzy after he walked down the steps, handing the bloodied rod to one of the assistants.  He didn’t need to see the crowd to know that maman was there, assessing whether or not Andre performed the breaking wheel execution without going into hysterics or fainting.   The blood and cries of agony still permeated his very soul, and Andre was roused from his thoughts when he felt his body collapsed against the warm chest of another human being.

  “UGH - ＳＥＲＩＯＵＳＬＹ？＂ Immediately Dominator ducked out of Satan’s reach, only to twist around and latch onto his arm, sinking her teeth into his hand like a ɢᴏᴅᴅᴀᴍɴ ғᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅᴏɢ.

A pointed, sharped fingernail would drag itself across his neck. Lips holding a smile while a lazy tendril of her hair brushed across his shoulder as she leaned down.

❝ oh, I know who you are and what you are. 

To so carelessly assume -- to think he could simply INVITE someone into their relationship at their most intimate time -- for something so casual as a threesome.

The world around her reflected the cold feelings that swam inside her bones. The air sparked with tension, the room chilled and the lights died til all there was was she who lived in the dark. On her face, she wore her wrath plainly with a scowl, but her body expressed something else entirely. It was hard to tell what it meant ; If it was out of bubbling anger , or out of the anxiety that shook her core like ice in her veins. It was all a matter of interpretation as the Angel held herself tightly, her claws digging into her arms. What remained a clear message, however, was the disdain that burned with a hateful fury within her glowing irises as she looked upon him. Lucifer certainly needed no words from the Queen to know just what it meant, when it was so scarcely used. 

“ Now you LISTEN to me, Lucifer, and you listen well ,”  She speaks low in her throat, deep in her chest. A rumble of warning for the Devil to heed. A rare sound indeed, for a woman who seemed to constantly run on jokes, motherhood, and tenderness. These were words charged with VENOM  that dripped from her grimacing fangs poking out on her lips. Her muscles twitch with the ache of impulsive violence rising in their fibers.

“ Don’t you EVER speak for me.. on ANYTHING sexual of nature..ESPECIALLY pertaining to us..” Rosie pronounces every word, stresses every syllable with careful precision , as she takes slow, predatory steps forward.

KILLJOY,  he called her.  For what? Because she refused?

It feels like a stabbing, wrenching pain in the pit of her stomach. Every step closer she comes, every inch she closes in, suddenly she feels more and more repulsed by him. In her hands, she feels the aching of the clawing joints with a desire to be flexed. To be used. The urge to violence..  To Strike him. To hurt him in the way he hurts her. She wants to pull at his ears she once thought cute, to rip out the eyes that shine like stars... ruin the face that seemed to have swayed her heart. Because now to look at him brought nothing but pain. Was their family nothing to him? Was he always just thinking of his next fix or chaos and sin? 

  The Devil will always be the Devil. He cannot stay true.    It isn’t in his nature.

Rosie stopped. It feels like a loaded gone in her every nerve.. her every feeling, alive in the shape of the inky void swimming in her very being.. hungry, restless. Waiting for its time. Breathe, don’t forget to breathe.  In, and out. In, and out. Stay in control. 

More than a foot shorter, nearly two, but in her rage it did not matter. The flames of hate burn and ravage for only minutes, before they smolder and burn out into the cold smoking remains. Til all she is is Ash.  The resentful grimace softens ever slightly, twitching in a subtle pain as sorrow washes over her tightened joints.  Did he see it? The gloss that suddenly washes over her eyes, the reddening of her face as she held back to tears?

What did it even matter? She couldn’t stop him if he wanted to.

Being angry was tiresome.. and it burned her out just as quickly as it would a candlelit flame. Rosie exhaled slowly.. silent through the nose, her lips never parting as ever muscle falls limp. It meant nothing. You are nothing. 

A lifetime did not change her mind’s processing and perception of herself. A loser to be replaced. A killjoy who didn’t know how to let loose. These were all the things she was.  The angel falls away and  retreats back slowly.. the burning hate fading now to a simple look of disappointment and heartbreak. Betrayal, as the Devil was always good at. Rosie can’t seem to find any words to say.. tired of looking at his face, tired already by her own thoughts and emotions. She sighs again, softly, but loud enough to be heard, and turned away to shuffle back to their bedroom with nothing more. On her exit, grants him only one last statement,

“ Think what you want of me.. but you bring anyone into this house, into our family home that does not belong here,

I’ll Kill them. And I will hurt you.”