Nothing is lost to silence. If a tree falls in a forest, it will indeed make a sound. If water drops from a metal pipe, onto any surface, the force of gravity fighting the adhesion of the molecule will cause a distinct, if minute, splash. Timber and his brothers were not as mute as the manor of Alois Trancy was led to believe. In the crawling shadows of the night, rasping breath could be heard, stifled and rhythmic. No candlelight flickered in an attempt to light the marble halls, and with the coveted soul of their master tucked away, there would be no interruption of the human sort. It was quite an odd agreement for three demons, to wear the bodies of identical brothers, but at times, it was rewarding. In the darkened servant's chamber in which the 'triplets' slept, a soft noise emitted. It was followed by a harsh reprimand, and a soft shifting of cloth. Even if humanity could not understand a demon's speech, it had a history of being attracted to the pleasures of such culture.
Reversely, demons juxtaposed in a human environment had such tendencies to sway from their own judgments and adapt dangerous things, such as emotion.
And lust.
Thompson had long ago fallen asleep. His creamy eyelids had closed and his breathing became subdued. Like his brothers, he wore a cotton shirt to bed, his vest, pants, bow and other amenities carefully folded and tucked away in three perfect piles. He slept on his side, on the far right of the bed, pale light from the curtained window illuminating his face. He was unawares of what was happening behind him.
Timber shifted his hips slightly, and once again Cantebury allowed a soft gasp to slip from his lips. It took an insurmountable silence to keep the brother hushed. Timber quickly placed his hands over the mouth, identical to his own, and in turn collapsed into his replica, his bare chest sticking with sweat. Sanguine eyes flashed over to the sleeping form of their third, cautiously looking for the signs of a waking body. It was unlike Timber to pick favorites, but living with both of the other demons had slowly driven him to the brink. The human world was an impossible place without sex, and the three demons needed something stronger than blood to keep civil. Unlike the solo butlers, they did not have the status to claim a soul and groom it to perfection. They had to share. Share everything.
Cantebury stared with pleading eyes that held a strange luminescence in the darkness of the chamber. He had willingly submit to Timber within weeks of their first contract. Their bodies fit together perfectly, their images mirrored. However, a mirror only held room for two. Each night the brothers waited for the third to fall asleep, and in a strange, unsyncopated instance, Timber and Cantebury did something apart from Thompson. Something human.
Once Timber was sure that Cantebury's whimpers had not awakened Thompson, he once again propped himself up on his palms, and soon his brother's legs wrapped around his waist, and they resumed in a quiet, strained silence…
Thompson made every attempt not to move. He was practiced at silence, as that was the main repertoire of the servants of Trancy. However, what he heard at that moment disturbed him. Although they were not truly kin, how could Timber do this? Another sigh wafted its way into Thompson's ear, and his back went rigid. It was not his place to care what the other demons did, but really, weren't they meant to function as one unit? As one being? It was this silence that cut into Thompson, cut him from his brothers. He would not lay there and feel their warmth against his back, nor would he sleep in the same bed with sheets warped from Cantebury's groping hands, clenching and releasing with his brother's body. Thompson's eyes flew open, and in a quick, determined motion, he stood, shocking his brothers into motionlessness. As he buttoned his shirt and dressed in his pants and vest, the silence between them all was quite identical.
But apparently, now, they were not.
.