the ringmaster

-

“I’m afraid I’m the wrong god for soul-selling. He’s a few floors down,” Idris replied coolly, a sly smile on his face as a gritty chuckle escaped him,. He was not without humor. After the man put out everything he had to offer down at his feet, the god continued to sit in the silence, pondering, speculating on a multitude of uses that he could have for the young man so eager to sell the most valuable thing he had to offer - his soul, his eternity - simply to escape his own fabricated version of hell. “Alright, then, I accept your offer. I’ll take everything you have to offer,” an approving nod of his head, he moved into the light, grinning devilishly, as he was aware of the surprise to see the face of the man who had regularly stopped his requests for circus expansions and enforced strict safety inspections. “I know what you must be thinking. ‘Oh, Silas Declan, you two-faced fool,’ but that’s hardly the full truth. By day, he protects the city I aim to swallow. At night, he sleeps while I make use of his body and face. My name is Chernabog - but you may call me Idris. We’re going to get to know each other quite well, you and I.”

--

“I wasn’t aware a god could resist a soul.” Devlin replied from his position, his head turning with the sound of the voice that seemed to be coming from impossible directions. Alright then, I accent your offer. Of course he would. Devlin felt his heart jump a little. He had nothing to lose with his fate in the hands of a god; he’d rather be used up than left to spend his days trying to climb back out of the pit.

As the god emerged from the darkness, Devlin could not help the sudden gasp that escaped him. He opened his mouth but was quickly silenced by Chernabog’s confession. Dev had thought his heart was beating fast before, now the rapid thundering was starting to make him dizzy. His mouth was dry, but he found his way to his feet, coming closer. Silently, Devlin studied Idris for a moment before a smile pulled at his lips. “How delightfully marvelous.” He replied and the giddiness was apparent. “A pleasure to meet you, Idris. I’ve never been more excited to serve.” He paused then to hold out his hand, it was a business arrangement, was it not? “In what way can I assist you first?”

-

A shimmer of light cut through the darkness as the gentleman glanced at the leather rolex watch on his wrist. 5 minutes until midnight, he noted, before bringing his attention back to the helpless soul at his feet. He did not reply immediately, only offering a small, gritty chuckle at the question.

He let the silence sit between the two of them, allowing the quiet to weigh heavily on the young, curly-haired man before he decided to reply. “What could you offer me that I don’t already have?” He asked, though there was a great deal that he craved and needed, but the cards were in his hands. “Spying eyes? Deadly hands? Your hands look as smooth as a newborn rabbit’s fur, not a means for murder and mayhem. I need darkness in this world, not performance acts.” He knelt, his face just inches away from the light, for the shape of it to be made out, but his features were still cloaked in darkness save for a glint of his sharp, demon-like eyes. “Just what are you willing to do to free yourself from this embarrassing state, Mister Devlin Quade?”

---

Devlin’s eyes narrowed as if to try and get a quick glimpse of the creature speaking to him through the glint of the watch’s face, but no such luck. Everything was as dark as before, and the voice remained a mystery.

“My soul? And my hands are deadlier than you give them credit for.” He held them out before himself now, flipping them over so he could look at his palms before his fingers curled in on them, balling them into milk white fists. How else could he have gotten to the top? He looked up again, “I could be any of those things, anything you want me to be... anything you need.” Dev continued trying not to sound too desperate but feeling the power in the room like this creature filled up all of the darkness and not just the man shaped silhouette in the shadows. He swallowed a gasp at the sound of his full name falling from the shadow’s lips. “Anything.” Simple, yet true.

-

“My words are all but empty, little bird,” he cooed, drawing out his words like a whisper on the wind. He stayed tucked away in the shadows, his hands slipped into his pockets while he paced slowly back and fourth, his leather, black dress shoes the only thing touching the light. “I would mind your tongue, you never know who might be able to offer a resolution. Whether it be befriending the dark fae that enchanted you with this delightfully awful curse - or perhaps appealing to a god who is far more powerful,” a sly grin slid across his face, his white teeth shining like a chesire cat in the dark, “But no, please, continue to be abrasive. I find it quite charming when people in need put up a fight instead.”

---

It was as if the darkness had swallowed everything up but him -- whoever was attached to the voice, the light sound of footsteps -- shadows and the slight glint of leather the only thing Devlin could see. He was about to lash out again with vicious words because what else does a helpless beast do when it is trapped but bite? Even the hand that tries to free it. He bit down on his own tongue instead, listening -- hearing the words like they were all around him under the beat of his heart that was loud and treacherous in his ears. “Are you a god?” He asked after a moment of silence, heeding what the voice was saying and not wanting to make this situation any worse for himself. Devlin was willing to do whatever he had to do to get himself out of his current situation. “If you are a god, then I beg you to make me a deal.”

𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖉

That evening when he’d left his quarters to go check on the goings on for the night circus, someone had grabbed Devlin roughly by his arm and dragged him along to the dressing room area, brusquely pushing him into a chair. “What’s the meaning of this?” He asked, but he was answered only with you’re on in fifteen, gotta make sure you’re ready, you’re late.

Late for what? he thought, but he couldn’t even squirm his way out of the chair. As it had been before he took over as ringmaster, there were hands all over him -- his hair, his face, his body -- getting him ready for a performance he hadn’t prepared for. Was he dreaming? Was this just a bad nightmare that felt like reality? It couldn’t be, he decided, it was too vivid.

He was taken to the shell, too small to fit a human body his size, but he knew what he had to do. It had been his gig for the night circus before taking over. So, with a bit of stretching -- someone hissing down his neck and rough fingers shoving him every time he attempted to leave [this had to be a joke, right?], he finally twisted himself up enough to fit into the shell which was lifted onto the stage. There, he went through the motions of an act he’d spent years perfecting, the lights blinding him and the cheers loud at the end of the set. He returned to the backstage area before creeping out into the masses. Someone else was standing on stage as ringmaster, someone he didn’t even recognize -- how could this be?

Stumbling through the throngs of people and barely dressed and covered in glitter, Devlin grabbed at the first person he saw. This was truly his nightmare -- he could see the bodyguards he’d trained watching him, making sure he wasn’t trying to sneak out into the night. “I’m sorry.” He said, “But... is everyone acting strange to you or is it just me?”

-

“If that’s the case, then there is hardly any reason to worry, is there? If you’re up to code and following protocol as well as you say you are, anyway,” Silas said simply, his gaze set on the man across from him, pausing to take a moment to sip his champagne. “Nobody’s trying to shut you down. I just have a city to run and citizens to keep safe. My safety inspections are tight for a reason,” a smile on his face and shrug of his shoulders pushed the topic away politely,

The politician took the conversation change in stride, nodding once as he thought about it. “Plenty of things. I like the beach. I swim. I like to read and I enjoy good jazz. I visit my parents when I can. I’m quite vanilla, I’m afraid. I’m just an ordinary person, like anyone else,” he sighed, leaning to one side as he crossed one leg over the other. “And what about you, Mr. Devlin Quade? What do you do when you’re not trying to bribe my inspectors to look the other way?” Silas returned, his gaze settling on him.

---

“Who said I was worried?” Devlin asked immediately and without batting an eye. “I came over here to air my complaints, thinking someone is out to get me. I’ve had nothing but issues since ownership transferred to me, and, I’ll have you know, I worked my way up. So, I know where my acts have been... where they are going, what they are going through.” As convincing an argument if any, and only partially dishonest if dishonesty means omitting truths.

It was easy enough to let the conversation slide into the more comfortable; Dev had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his so-called complaint, and he was willing to let it go if only for a few moments of this handsome man’s time. Handsome, but boring, Devlin thought, running his tongue over his teeth as he listened, offering the other a practiced, saccharine smile in response. “You are vanilla. Ever thought about seeing how we night owls live?” He asked, arching a perfect brow with his head cocked just slightly. “Dancing... enjoying the night, a good show, anything that pumps up the adrenaline.”

-

Silas prepared himself, knowing full well were this conversation was going to go. He refrained from sighing, exhaling through his nostrils as he leaned back into his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Water under the bridge. It happens,” he said cooly, disappointed as it became clear that this had become another business meeting. Work seemed to be something he could simply not avoid. He listened quietly, starring at his glass intently while he absorbed his words before he sighed and set down his glass. “Yes, Mr. Quade - it would, but after routine inspections, there are numerous safety concerns that need to be addressed before I can allow that. I’ve heard rumors of unethical practices as well - all of which will be investigated,” he picked back up his glass and took a casual sip, “-but if you make your show safer - for performers and your audience - and nothing comes up in the investigations, we can talk about this again.”

---

Devlin was only slightly disappointed that Silas seemed to roll over and take it, water under the bridge. Nothing was ever water under the bridge. He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the disappointment in the air. “I won’t make too much of this about business. We can talk pleasure after.” It was quite the cocky remark, but that was just how Devlin operated. “I’m well aware of the audits that keep happening every time we’re inspected, and I can’t help but think that there’s someone who wants to see me shut down. Again.” He paused then to take a sip from his glass. “We’re up to code again, and I assure you any rumors are just that, but I hear you.” Another sip, his eyes feline and his grin vulpine from behind the glass. “Your little investigators won’t find anything worth looking at twice. I’ve been working tirelessly.” Dev set his glass down then and leaned over the counter. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down, so to speak... what Does Mr. Silas Declan do for fun?”

“It’s simple but pretty,” he offered with a smile and a shrug. “She likes that.” He knew Devlin probably didn’t want to know about life on the farm so he didn’t go past that but he knew from experience that his mom wasn’t a flashy woman. More often than not she wore work boots and overalls and helped his dad muck out the barn.

He grinned. “Awesome,” he grinned. “Thanks. She’ll adore it.” He looked up as a harried sounding PA beckoned him to come into the room. He laughed as he was pulled into the room. “Let’s do it!”

For the next couple of hours he posed, and changed outfits, and gave sound bites for the add. It was busy and allowed for him to shut off his mind for a while as he worked the cameras. Toward the end of the shoot he exhaled and grabbed a bottle of water, chugging it before glancing at Devlin. “How’s it looking?”

---

“you have a good eye, and I’m sure you know your mother well. It’s gorgeous, you’re absolutely right.” Devlin replied, and he was stricken with the feeling that he wished he had someone to care for the way that Kydd cared for his mother. Devlin had been dealt a shitty hand of cards and his mother had never much cared for him or his siblings, which was how he was able to run away so young and get caught up in the circus without anyone coming to look for him.

He didn’t want his mind to wander, so he was pleased when they were called back, and he kept his eyes on Kydd almost the whole time, giving some guidance both to his client and to the people doing the filming and shooting. When Kydd asked him how it was looking, Devlin grinned at him with a wall of white teeth and offered him a double thumbs up. “Looking excellent. I think we should go out to lunch when it’s over. You’re working so hard.”

— 🦢 —

Odette felt her blood boil every time she had to interact with Devlin. Something about him made her wanted to itch beneath her skin, get rid of that feeling he brought on when he was in the room. Whatever it was that he had made her question his every move and his control over her only made her want to rebel more. Under the surface she knew there must be something and she would search for that weakness until she was able to strike. Odette missed her life before, it wasn’t a secret, but until she found a way out she would need to behave as well as she could. 

Her eyes caught his while he primped her again, causing her features to harden slightly before she spoke. “What is it I would ever want to transform into besides who I used to be? I am a girl or a swan and men love to hunt them both.” Too many times had she been seen for only her beauty and sometimes this felt no different. She knew it was time to put on her mask, to become the swan they all wanted her to be. There was a part to be played and she was the leading lady. After a deep breath she exhaled to meet his gaze once again. “I will give them the show they came for, I promise.” Reluctantly. 

🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪 🎪  

I am a girl or a swan and men love to hunt them both.

The comment made Devlin laugh, something sharp and devoid of humor. “Men love to hunt beautiful things, Odette.” He replied, for he was no stranger to that which she spoke of. Only, in his case, the hunted had become the hunter. Or, rather, the collector -- almost like Charles Muntz with his collection. He had a little deal going with the other man, specimens for information. Devlin saw enough of the seedy black market buyers and sellers to know what they had at any given time, to know what was prowling around the city. He dealt in information and received gifts such as Odette in return.

“I will be watching. And I will hold you to that.” He said, looking at her with that icy gaze. “I will check in with you after the show.” With that, Devlin left her alone to ready herself for her performance in order to check on his other acts.

He flushed at his touch, biting his lip as he attempted to relax and not act like he was so effected by the man’s mere touch. The thought of being everything being guarded, especially what he decided to eat. He is exhaled and glared at his feet for a moment; ever the petulant child even if only for a moment, before looking up at him and nodding.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smile. He walked over to him and leaned over the phone, careful not to drop crumbs as he thought a moment. “Opal is her favorite gem and she likes butterflies. Maybe we could find her a necklace like that?” He let Devlin scroll then paused. “That one. The silver and blue opal.” He smiled. “It’s perfect.”

Originally posted by austinbutlerr

---

Devlin pretended not to notice the change in Kydd’s behavior and stance. He knew what it was, and Kydd could have his minor little tantrums. Stuff like that was reinforced by attention, and Devlin wasn’t going to give him any for something he didn’t want to see.

❧

Odette saw him as a snake if she’d ever seen one. She called it how she saw it and from Devlin she lacked empathy for someone who was willing to clip her wings and put her out for show. This was an entanglement she wouldn’t use for anything more than for whatever personal gain she could. If she was forced here then she’d figure out whatever she could in the hopes of eventually finding a way out. 

Knowing that the eyes were on her made her skin crawl. It wasn’t that she didn’t know the way they stared but the mention of it drew her deeper into her own shell. That didn’t mean she tried to put on the face he wanted. “The show must go on, even when the swan weeps I suppose,” Odette said softly before looking herself in the mirror and gathering herself for showtime. All unhappiness aside she knew she could give them what they wanted, they came to see the caged swan and that’s precisely what they’d get. “I can do it,” she said confidently as her posture shifted and demeanor devolved into the complacent bird in a gilded cage.  

---

Devlin had learned to be the way he was. How could he have empathy for others when no one had ever shown him any? Nature verses nurture and all that. He had become exactly who he needed to be in order to survive. Everyone did what they could to get up in the world, or to just keep their heads afloat. And Devlin had had to do many an awful, terrible thing just to keep his nose and mouth out of the water.

“You’re wrong, Odette.” He said, those sharp and cold eyes remaining focused on her. “They come to see the transformation. The beautiful woman behind the mask – the mysterious lady with the gift of flight. Too bad they don’t know you can’t get your feet off the ground.” He pouted then and reached up to move an errant hair. “I’ll see you on stage in five. Don’t disappoint me. It won’t be good for you. Especially after this conversation.”

♡

She knew enough about fashion to make sure a garment looked good but didn’t care about the rules so much that she forgot to have fun. Sometimes she thought designers lost themselves in the ‘look’ so much that they forgot to enjoy what they’re creating. Barbie wanted to make sure that she wasn’t that way and each thing she created had a part of her there. “High fashion and fast fashion are the two worst. I like the upcycling designers the best, the people that can take anything they find and make something new.” She knew she was probably explaining more than she needed to but she couldn’t help it when she got excited. “I try to do that but I can’t to the extent they do, it’s really a gift that they have being able to turn literally the ugliest dress into the cutest two piece set, you know?” Barbie smiled over at him, not acknowledging her own rambling. “No gig, just taking something and making it new again,” she said finishing it with a shrug. 

The smile started to grow as she heard his response, nodding her head in agreement. “Exactly! It’s a statement piece, it isn’t meant to be fashion or even actual clothing. It should be used to say something and also make it a little gorgeous just for fun.” Barbie added it a little shimmy before a laugh exposed itself. 

---

“I don’t know how I feel about fast fashion, to be honest. I think it’s a necessary component with the way the world is moving right now. It’s cheap, it’s accessible, and people… well, they want to look good, don’t they? Who cares if they can only wear the dress three times before it’s falling apart.” Devlin laughed then, of course, he didn’t mean it – he wore expensive, designer brands and often wouldn’t wear the same thing twice. But it had only been a few years since he had started that – had to work his way up and all. “I find it interesting that you’re a designer. You’re very pretty, you know, you could be the one modeling the fashion.”

Devlin touched him and the protein bar; half eaten in his hand, was momentarily forgotten. It was such a familiar touch, comforting in its rareness, that he was willing to drop anything he was doing to experience it, even for a few too-brief moments. “I know. It doesn’t happen very often.” It… wasn’t an entire lie even if lying by omission was still lying. It happened often enough he should be concerned but when you filled up with water every once in a while you were still full so-

He leaned back against the wall, careful so he wouldn’t wrinkle the outfit he’d been put in and exhaled at the permission to just spend time with his mom and his family back home. “She actually has hard her eye on a Kate Spade bag. Maybe I could find some jewelry she might like and slip it in the bag before we send it off.”

---

Dev let his thumb stroke over the hollow of Kydd’s cheek, letting his warm, soft hand linger there for a beat longer. Kydd was touch-starved, Devlin knew that, and he knew how to feed him just a little affection at a time – tictacs of affection, to keep him on edge and wanting more. To keep him wrapped around Devlin’s little finger. After a moment, though, he let his hand drop, “Good. I don’t want to have to monitor your food intake, too.”

-

“Yes, well, it’s not for her, is it? Nor does her opinion matter very loudly in my books. She is Hades’ and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll mind her tongue,” Idris said flatly, but he also knew how Persephone could be. She could be quite the little spitfire, and the god of darkness would have none of it. Fortunately, he was in a good position to put his foot down. They were all living in his realm, shielded underneath his darkness from the other gods. His cousins should be nothing but grateful.

“I am well aware of your rise to fame and your expropriation of power,” Idris said with a hum in his voice as he lifted his head to leave his jaw just slightly out of Devlin’s reach unless he wished to kiss it. “Your conquering nature is only but one of my favorite qualities about you,” there was something almost soft, but sultry in his deep tone, and he paired his words with a simple raise of his hand to tuck a loose lock away from the man’s sharp eyes so he could look into them better. “Dancing, eh?” He said with a click of his teeth, “how about you dance for me first, and we’ll see where the night goes?”

---

Devlin’s smile only grew when Idris put his foot down about what he thought about Persephone and her desires. It sent a little trill up his spine, and he curved in closer to the man, getting another lungful of that familiar and tantalizing scent. “You’re always right about these things, I don’t know why I even worry.”

Devlin’s eyes narrowed a tiny bit, that small smile playing on his lips as Idris pulled just out of his reach. Dev wasn’t beyond standing on his tiptoes to get what he wanted, so he did just that and pressed his lips firmly to the sandpaper skin of the taller man’s jaw, letting himself settle back. “Oh? And what are some of your other favorite qualities about me?” He just liked to hear good things about himself, especially from his favorite entity.

How about you dance for me first, and we’ll see where the night goes?

It made Devlin laugh loudly, something bright and a little giddy – perhaps slightly intoxicated on the god of darkness. “I said we would dance together, but if you want me to dance for you, I’m sure that can be arranged, too. For the right price.”

♡

Barbie couldn’t help but find herself laughing softly at his comment, nodding her head in agreement. “Yeah, sure but isn’t that what fashion is all about? Pushing the limits? Seeing what works and doesn’t work?” She shrugged and turned her focus back to the dress to examine it further. “I’ve designed a bunch of stinkers but you never know what some people will love.” There was a blue dress she designed once with an oversized bow that she thought was absolutely atrocious but her younger sister Chelsea asked her if she could wear it to a school dance. Barbie was happy to oblige, just because it wasn’t her style didn’t mean it wasn’t someone else’s. 

“I think that’s what makes it so fun,” she said, looking back over at him with a smile. It was hard to get Barbie to really hate anything when it came to a trend. She was able to see at least something in most clothes and if she couldn’t then it must be real bad. “Hear me out. That but beneath it is like a really subtle black bra and panty set, right? Like you could see that on a runway for sure, especially if you wanted to make a statement about how much stuff we just throw into the trash.”

---

Devlin shrugged his shoulders then. Maybe he was a contrarian, but he liked to have discussions. Sometimes, he even quite enjoyed playing the Devil’s advocate. Most of the time, however, he simply liked to challenge other people’s opinions. He found it fun – especially to gauge their reactions. “I find the fashion industry to be a bit of a scam, if I’m honest.” He replied coolly, looking at her with those icy blue eyes. “Certainly, there are many things that we – as a society – see as necessary components in our day-to-day dress, but the high fashion? I think it’s all made up. People just throw things together and everyone gasps and acts like it’s modern Botticelli. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good scam as much as the next guy, but… this?” He waved his hand at it again and scrunched up his face. “Not my gig.”

He listened to her then, cocking his head as he tipped it back to look at the dress on display in the window again. He offered her a shrug, “It’s not often that people get me to change my opinion, but I guess I could see that – as long as it was a statement piece.” He paused for a moment, lips pursed as he studied her then. “Fashion as a statement is one thing, but pretending like this is something that everyone should be wearing in Times Square? Something else entirely.”

His eyes light up at the sight of food, even if it was just a protein bar. He took it and tore it opened before Devlin had finished the offer, taking a big bite and chewing it before speaking. “Mmmf… yes, thank you,” he finally managed to get out. “Literally all I had today was water.” Because somehow, Devlin had made him feel disgusting— even if he never meant for it to effect him in such a way— and he had held that a little too close to himself.

He forced himself to eat it slowly as he watched the hustle and bustle around him, humming absently around the graciously offered snack. “Mmm I meant to ask earlier. Do I have anything planned for next Friday? It’s my mom’s birthday and I would really like to have a couple of hours to FaceTime her.” He had made it clear that things like that were important to him and when he asked for it he wanted some time carved out to spend with the people who meant the most to him.

---

Devlin laughed something airy and light as Kydd took the protein bar without further instruction. His eyes followed the ravenous way Kydd tore into the bar, patting the younger man on the shoulder before reaching up to cup his face. Power move. “Aw...” He said, sucking his teeth. “Kydd... you can’t do that. You have to have three meals a day, with sensible snacks.” If he could, Devlin would have all of Kydd’s meals planned out for him. He was working on it. One thing at a time.

They had a little bit of time to kill, it seemed, as they had still not been fetched for the main stage, so Devlin busied himself with looking around and studying everything. At Kydd’s request, Devlin looked at him and offered him a sunny smile. “Why, of course that can be arranged, Kydd. I would hate for you to not get some time with your mother on her birthday. Let’s send her something, shall we? Give me some ideas.” It was just another way to keep his hand on the wheel -- give a little, take more.