@desertgourd

In the far dark corner of the room, a silent shadow seemed to take the shape of a person. Calling him a man would have been not only far off but perhaps also insulting, although his body assumed exactly the type of form that unsuspicious eyes would classify as a ‘man’. Evidently, he was no such thing. A haunting pair of piercing yellow eyes scanned the scene from where he lurked. They quickly found their target. The ominous book from which they had read out loud still in hand, Leviathan could see them clearly despite the dim lighting.

“You’ve called?”

Oh, they had not actually summoned him. The ritual necessary to call upon and bind the grand prince of hell to a tiny spot on Earth was far more complicated and decidedly more messy than that. Whether or not the poor human had even intended to do so or had simply been dabbling with some odd words found on dusty pages or the interwebs was no matter. Halloween was but a few hours away. People were just so much more likely to carelessly utilise summonings, spirit trackers or unpracticed voodoo magic that they had not the slightest clue about, let alone any sense of respect for its complexity.

@fiishscales

The sea was restless on this particular day, the waves carrying white crowns and the sea gulls flying low. Although the sky showed not a single cloud as of now, the air still tasted of a storm to come. A good time for surfing, actually, or anybody else who enjoyed to rock a little in the water while swimming. After almost a week of work in the pit below Leviathan was thirsting for nothing else but this. The salt on his skin, the current carrying his body. Not his human body, of course, which he only carried for the simplicity of moving freely in public. It was not his intention to provoke this much attention, although the image of a gigantic apocalyptic sea snake winding its way through the city did have a certain appeal. It would be London all over again.

Ah.. but not today.

Much to his dismay the beach of his choosing was not quite as deserted as he had hoped for it to be.

"It is... the moon", Phileas noted, his voice but a hushed whisper riding the breeze that ruffled his hair. A look of unveiled fascination glimmered in his eyes.

In front of them, where the pale light of the waxing moon met cold stone, the cracks Phileas had previously thought to be nothing but regular signs of wear and tear, began to glow. Gently at first - but growing in intensity with every breath he withheld - until they drowned out even the light that seemed to have activated them in the first place. Phileas hastily took a few steps back. His poor eyesight had forced him so close before that his nose had been only inches away from colliding with the ancient wall. Now though, the radiant light that seemed to be seeping from the wall itself almost managed to blind him.

  “Mhh..” Lux tilted his head and touched his chin, pretending to give the other an appraising look. His twitching lips betrayed him, however.

  “Winter does not bother me. There is a fire inside me that never ceases to burn.”

  A smile, a soothing ray of sunshine break through dark clouds. Fire in his hair, heat in every gaze, and warmth oozing from the perfect canvas of his skin. His presence could light up a room as swiftly as his touch could bring comfort to tense muscles and draw sighs from aching souls. A flame that warmed and soothed so very thoroughly and gently that it was easy to forget what destruction it might bring. How horrible it absence would feel, once it had not burned out but moved on out of lost interest. And especially, what on earth one would not do to get it back again.

  It might have amused the curious spectator to know that Asmodes knew very well what that felt like. A fire that had been dancing on for centuries, except for the one time when it had not, and the process had almost driven the chief demon of lust insane. Upon finding that spark he had long thought lost once again, Asmodeus had dug his claws into it like a wild beast and from there on refused to let go.