#heuah

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐃, ╱ @heuah.

the  room  is  suffocatingly  small,   smelling  of  damp  carpet  &  old  dust.   one  pathetic  excuse  of  a  lodging⸻   the  result  of  a  sudden,   torrential  downpour  of  localized,   acidic  hell-fire  that  forced  an  unlikely  truce  &  a  hasty  retreat  into  the  nearest  low-rent  sinner  establishment.

he  stands  near  the  center  of  the  cramped  space,   his  posture  impeccably  straight  despite  the  dismal  surroundings.   he  has  already  draped  his  coat  over  the  back  of  a  creaking  wooden  chair,  leaving  him  in  his  shirt  &  harness,   his  shirtsleeves  rolled  up  to  reveal  his  forearms.   too  occupied  with  brushing  a  speck  of  ash  from  his  cuff,   entirely  unbothered  by  the  unfortunate  logistics  of  their  shelter,   his  mind  elsewhere.

the  posture  is  a  cage.   beneath  the  linen  of  his  shirt,   the  jagged,   unhealed  gash  in  his  chest  is  burning,   aggravated  by  the  frantic  sprint  away  from  the  rain.   every  breath  is  a  sharp,   agonizing  test  of  compliance,   a  heavy  exhaustion  pulling  at  the  corners  of  his  consciousness.   he  is  entirely  aware  that  if  he  sits⸻   if  he  relaxes  for  even  a  fraction  of  a  second,   his  body  might  simply  betray  him  &  give  in  to  the  faintness  creeping  up  his  vision.   he  cannot  afford  to  pass  out,   not  in  front  of  her.

the  dizzying  silence  snaps  when  she  barks  her  question; ‘why  is  there  only  one  bed?’

head  pivoting  toward  the lieutenant,   &  only  then  does  his  gaze  track  past  her  shoulder  to  finally  take  in  the  room’s  single,   sunken  mattress.   his  eyes  linger  on  it  for  a  beat,   a  slow  realization  dawning  beneath  his  unblinking  stare.   smile  remains  perfectly  fixed,   a  rigid  crescent  of  yellow  teeth  that  offers  absolutely  no  comfort.

“because,   my  dear,   the  universe  possesses  a  wicked  sense  of  humor,”   he  says,   his  tone  light  &  relaxed⸻   amused,   even,   considering  they  were  at  each  other’s  throats  merely  half  an  hour  ago.   “or  perhaps  the  establishment  simply  caters  to  a  more…   specific  clientele  than  either  of  us  anticipated.”

his  gaze  drops  deliberately  to  the  faint,   lingering  scent  of  cheap  perfume  &  the  unmistakable,   heavy  warmth  of  the  room’s  energy.   he  finally  steps  closer  to  the  bed,   movements  fluid  &  unhurried  as  he  smooths  a  hand  over  the  wrinkled  sheets…   that’s  it,   sleep  is  entirely  out  of  the  question  for  him.

the  mattress  is  a  dangerous  temptation;   his  core  aches  for  the  rest,   his  trembling  muscles  screaming  for  relief,   but  sharing  a  mattress  with  a  lady   [even  an  exceptionally  violent,   & viscerally  erratic  one]   grates  against  his  most  archaic  sensibilities.   his  mind  briefly  flickers  to  the  only  mattress  he  ever  willingly  shared⸻   a  small,   sagging  bed  in  a  humid  louisiana  cabin  where  he’d  curl  up  beside  his  mother  long  after  it  was  considered  appropriate  for  a  boy  his  age,   seeking  the  only  warmth  he  ever  truly  trusted.   such  a  thought  feels  like  a  perversion  of  nature  in  comparison.

yet,   as  another  wave  of  dizziness  rolls  through  him,   the  necessity  of  survival  forces  his  hand.   he  needs  to  sit.   he  needs  to  anchor  himself  before  his  legs  give out.

“now,   we  can  certainly  stand  here  &  interrogate  the  architecture  all  night,   or  we  can  come  to  an  arrangement,”   he  steps  back,   gesturing  grandly  to  the  mattress,   though  his  gaze  lingers  just  a  second  too  long  on  the  narrow  space  where  their  shoulders  would  inevitably  brush.   he  sinks  onto  the  edge  of  the  mattress  with  a  calculated,   slow  grace,   concealing  the  slight  tremor  in  his  knees  as  he  looks  up  at  her  through  his  lashes.   “i  am  perfectly  content  to  share,  provided  you  can  keep  your  wings [& all of your appendages,]   to  yourself⸻ no attacking, no talking, & 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

"I have coveted no man’s silver, or gold, or apparel."

The words slipped out softly, contemplatively, as though even the speaker was pondering what they could possibly mean in the situation; in this context. As if the scripture had found its way upon Nezumi's tongue without his knowledge and he was a mere tool through which the words were delivered.

This wasn't the case, of course, for he knew that somewhere deep inside, it was he — his own heart — that have conjured the sentence, his own mind that plucked it from his memory and delivered it upon this unknown woman. A woman who had stirred the words in him for reasons he didn't dare to guess. A woman he was meeting in the dark, while his dagger was still dripping with the blood of a demon, a thing, a creature he had slain. A creature that had left deep marks in his flesh. He paid the injuries no mind, as though he didn't feel the blood that dripped from his torn side.

Nezumi took a careful breath. He slid the bloody dagger into its sheath, attached to the belt of his jeans, where the dirt and crust would disappear as though something, or someone, licked the blade clean within the safety of its home.

He blinked at the woman. "So you are — what? An ostentatious werewolf?"

Send a ✏️ and I'll share a scenario or plot I want to explore.

It'd be cool to write with more of the sins or ars goetia.

Since Cain is one of the few sinners that they would know about given his high rank in Satan's army. And depending on the individual they probably became familiar with him as a source of sin early on. Like Leviathan would know how strong his envy was before he gave into wrath.

Cain is kind of the poster boy of humanity's corruptible nature. And whether the lords of hell would view him as a tool, a pet or whatever is up to them. But yeah. Cain is prime for demonic manipulation or being used.

I'd love to explore how Cain is useful to hell and where his role is within the established network. My default is him either guarding the Morningstars or acting as a soldier for Satan but there's lots of other possibilities.

In the book of Jubilees, his wife is known as Awan (or Avan); in other apocryphal text/folklore/myths she's known as Azure Luluwa, Kalmana, Qalimah, Jumela, Cainan, Laphura. No name in the Bible unfortunately,

​Yeah it seems I was only finding Bible sources from google. I need to broaden my search and dig deeper! Because I do vaguely know of those versions of her as Cain's sister but that was about it.

I like the name Awan

And that's better than just referring to her as 'Cain's wife' because that feels dehumanizing.

I'll keep my divergent hc though that she was made for Cain like Eve was made for Adam. I know it's like on par with Greek god rules and isn't the same standard as people today but it's just for my own comfort. Like I'm fine with it on paper but I don't want people ic for rp purposes to start accusing Cain of incest.

Terrible First Meeting Starters

"How the fuck should I know?!" Adam sneered. Turning away from the woman. Giving a flap of great golden wings as he hovered above the ground. Gloved hands were curled tight into fists, shaking with rage. And perhaps a tiny twinge of fear. "Just give me a god damn minute to think!"

Because it looked like an exorcist. Her head severed from her body. Collapsed in a pool of her own rich golden blood.

It defied reason. Confirmed the terrible fact that they, god's chosen, could be killed. Adam didn't know the bitch's name or rank. He cared not for the individual. What bothered him was that some lowly demon scumbag had taken what was rightfully his. Had sullied the corpse of one of HIS exorcists.

"Okay okay okay. Let's lock in." They'd had their meeting with the little princess. Managed to thoroughly humiliate her. Now back to the point at hand. They had more important matters to attend to than tolerating hell's pathetic royalty. "Take a couple girls with you, only the ones you trust the most to keep their fucking mouths shut, and gather the body. Do not allow anyone else to see you, from heaven or hell."

@heuah liked for a starter and got Lucifer!

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

"Shit..."

He really didn't want to deal with anyone from Heaven. Ever since his fall, it has never gone well. From just not wanting to listen to him to treating him like a monster, it all became just too much for Lucifer to handle. It didn't matter who it was, either; he just didn't want to deal with any of them. If he could avoid it.

Something told Lucifer that he wasn't going to be able to avoid.

Sighing as he accepted his fate for that moment, he tried to smile at her. Even if it came off as incredibly forced.

"Please tell me you're here for a personal reason and not business."

“Toughest guy in the room?” The words rolled off Vaggi’s lips. Turning her head, her gaze locked onto the form of her former superior. “Have you gone fucking insane?”

The face which once held confusion morphed into one of deep hatred, pain, and fear. Her newly returned wings retreated into her form as if to shield her from the woman’s cruel words. Her muscles were tight and her fingers balled into fists.

“Do I look like I’ve ever been the strongest one in the room? Look at me, Lute. Do I look strong to you?” Streams of tears poured from the only eye that could shed them. “I did everything Heaven asked of me. I killed and butchered thousands.” Her eye blurred from the tears as she grabbed her chest. Her heart felt like it was about to burst. “The only boldness or toughness I’ve ever shown is sparing that child’s life.”

Her hand sprung quickly toward Lute’s face as if to strike her, but she grabbed her collar instead. “You left me down there.” The words still felt surreal to her, something that would be beyond belief. “How could you do this to me?” Vaggi whispered, guiltily falling to her knees in front of her former friend. Her hand clutched her chainmail as she slowly banged her head into Lute’s stomach. “Why? Why did you do this to me?”