#sattan

"A Shop Divided"

What's a little ideological fault between friends?

"KILL HIM!!!!"

Senshiiiii's explosive wrath rattled the break room.

"WHO'D MISS TH'BASTARD ANYWAYS?!!"

It was inexplicably isolating hearing "kill" spat with such venom.

Yuushaaaaa closed the buckle on his worn leather satchel, prepared to trade shifts.

"…I still wouldn't kill the Dark Lord."

The second of pause that followed unsettled his empty stomach. It compelled him to hasten to the back door.

"Imagine the political unrest…"

His defence was quiet. Altogether unconvincing.

"WELL NOT EVERYONE'S AS AFRAID AS YOU ARE."

Senshiiiii then departed to the register, neglecting any farewell. Yuushaaaaa left the establishment,

and tacitly acknowledged his potential threat.

//

"Rendezvous"

Fate will catch us, but not tonight.

The red false moon cast bloody hues on marble underfoot.

A sharp squeak of rubber punctuated a graceless heel pivot.

For every retiring step the hero took, the daemon encroached.

Two silhouettes darted dramatically, yet purposefully, across the empty hall.

But it was not quiet.

Claws cut by Hell seized a briefly idle hand.

Eavesdropping spirits vocalised in chorus, a waltz in petrifying timbre.

Wavering. Discordant. Unintelligible.

Music, nevertheless.

The war between light and darkness waged within the billowing mist and mounting crescendo.

…Although clumsily.

Yuushaaaaa was no dancer.

But Sattan's laughter, absent of malice, assured him he'd already won.

//