In the darkness of some plain lost to human eyes, a creature stirred lazily. With a flick of his careless wrist, a pedestal came into existence in a reddish feature that was not quite light. Aside from it and the lavish throne he'd been napping in, though everything near existed, none of it was actually there. Slowly coming to be, a form dressed in fluffy layers of white lay across the pedestal.

Another sacrifice from those stupid humans.

They'd sent him so many toys; from the looks of it, they had yet to understand his preferences.

It looked like another girl in a wedding dress.

He might as well see what they'd done to her, the creature thought. He pushed himself to his feet and approached.

He stopped, several feet from the body on the tablet.

Laid overtop of her crossed arms were two feathered wings.

That of angels.

With an angry and sudden snarl, the creature threw his hand into the air, and the bonfire these stupid humans had sacrificed the angel in exploded outwards, charring anything nearby in moments.

He slid an arm under the girl and lifted her upright slightly, carefully taking her wings and laying them under her shoulderblades. Without a second thought, he laid her back down over them and reattached them with a touch at her collar. Though she would be far too weak to use them, at least she could not die from being separated. The little angel had not fallen freely, and he was disgusted that those beastly people had tried to take his job upon themselves. He looked down at the makeup marring her true beauty and waved his hand over part of her face, lifting it away with a single thought. They had tried to make her skin tone darker, and look healthier; under the makeup, she was almost as pale as him. He lifted the rest of the gunk from her skin and threw the mass of human refinery into the void about him, slowly developing more and more of the reality it hid as he circled the pedestal and the creature atop it.

All angels are beautiful, he knew, but this one was certainly high praise.

Her face was tormented under its restful façade, with soft features that had only recently been contorted with such pain. They had treated her very roughly; her lip was split and there was a bruise blooming around her right eye. They'd dressed her more lavishly than he had ever seen; her dress was several feet longer than her in the front, with a train that fell off the pedestal and was gathered on the ground. The sleeves of the dress had puffs made of thick silk lace and tight lower sleeves of a sheer fabric with hand-embroidered pearls in swirls and stars, and traveled all the way up the backs of the girl's hands. He lifted one and felt how cold she was, even under the huge dress, and thought that blue was an odd choice of nail color. Her hair was a smokey sort of grey that had hints of blue, so he thought maybe they had worked with that. Speaking of her hair, it was rather short, and had long bangs and fringe that had been pulled away from her face and clipped in place with more pearls on a silver comb.

Knowing she would not wake for some time, the creature lifted her skirt, half curious, half bored.

There were three more layers to the outer dress, and then there were petticoats that fell to her knees. She was wearing long stockings made of lace that retreated above the petticoats and dainty silk bridal slippers, and he lifted the skirts at her knees with decreasing interest. She was wearing yet another layer of petticoats over lace-coated bloomers that looked more like shorts than bloomers. He lifted those and discovered that the angel on his pedestal was actually a boy.

Well, he was still cute.

The creature dropped the multitudinous layers of cloth and ran his hand over the angel's torso, letting it fall from his flat chest to his thin waist. He felt one of the eyelets to the lacing of his corset softly. The angel made a weak sound and his lips parted just a bit as he sensed the warmth against his side. The creature frowned. Not even he could be so cruel to this angel. He felt his cheek. He was exceptionally soft, but so cold. Almost tenderly, the creature lifted the angel in his arms and returned to his throne.

He laid the angel across his lap and rested his head on his shoulder, paying close attention to his weak breathing as he held the cold body to his own. He pulled the cloak from the top spires of his throne and laid it over the angel, who stirred a bit more at the shift. He smelled like humans and smoke, but somewhere under that roses, and somewhere even further something much sweeter.

It was hard to tell.

He took the angel's hands in his own- they were so small that both fit into one of his, with plenty of spare room- and held them to his chest, where heat radiated from him like a stove. He looked down again at the angel's face.

A small drop of red had fallen from his right eye, almost like a tear.

As softly as he could, the creature lifted the angel's eyelid.

From the outside, it had seemed totally fine, but the eye was hardly a mass of tissue, a gaping hole where pupil and color should have been.

With an infuriated snarl, the creature set fire to the human's crops, leaving nothing but ashes in mere seconds.

He closed the angel's eye and cupped his hand over it, not quite certain he could heal it.

The beast sat still for some time, focusing solely on the eye of the angel in his lap, aware that he was wasting time he should've spent working.

He checked the eye again. The wound was closed, but he seemed to have trapped some blood inside of it.

He closed the eye again and laid his hand over it.

The angel made a weak sound. He should've awoken by now, and the creature suspected some form of abuse he hadn't seen before had been used. He could safely assume this angel wasn't willingly given, yet no human should have had the strength it took to send him down. The creature lifted the cloak and pressed his hand against the angel's chest. Even his heart was cold, beating weakly.

The angel made another sound, something less conscious than a moan but more awake than a sigh, and leaned his head into the creature's shoulder, soft breath against his neck. The creature felt a wonderful stab of something between arousal and smugness, finding it funny that this pure being sought comfort from him. He leaned back in his seat and lifted his hand from the angel's eye. It was still purplish, blood trapped under the surface, with white crisscrosses of scarred tissue. The creature frowned slightly, unhappy that the extent of his skill seemed to have been met, when the angel huffed and awoke.

He opened his eyes and did not immediately move, breath caught in his throat as he stared up at the creature looking down over him.

Ciel saw a thing that should've resembled a rather handsome man, but he could hardly have been further from human. Two horns, those of a ram, curled out from the sides of his head, black as coal and reflective as obsidian. His hair was equally dark and fell around his face in a way that felt intentional yet unrefined, a lock of it resting against his nose. He was smiling mischievously with eyes as red as blood from an open wound and teeth that were straight and white, with canines to rival a vampire.

The demon chuckled quietly, deep in his chest.

The angel realized how he was positioned, and horror overtook his confusion. He gave a shriek and pushed away from the beast's chest, hitting some kind of stone flooring very roughly and scrambling to get up. He was aware of the weight against his shoulders, a familiar weight that he couldn't at the moment remember the purpose for, and a sort of blurred edge to the right side of his vision, but above that he noticed that he had barely enough energy to stand. He tried to run towards the only solid thing he could see to put between himself and the demon-a pedestal not unlike the one the humans had kept him on-and scrambled for it, fabric trapping him from the extravagant dress. His feet, bound in both tight and tractionless slippers and the yard of fabric at the front of the dress, could do nothing to save him as he tripped and lurched forward. His upper torso slammed into the tablet with a pained whine and he collapsed to his knees in front of it, flipping over and pressing his back against the cold stone, willingly exposing his chest to protect his wings.

The demon still had not moved. He was watching with poorly concealed interest, some sort of idle worry on his face. Ciel mentally scanned himself for any kind of weapon or defense; he felt the metal boning in his corset pressing against his side and wondered how difficult it would be to remove it.

It would have been of no help. He was in the demon's realm anyway.

The demon stood slowly, eyes never leaving Ciel. He took a tentative step forward, and Ciel inhaled sharply, pressing himself further against the tablet. There was a splitting headache forming in the right half of his head, making it hard to judge much of anything. Seeming as harmless as a small white rabbit with red eyes, the demon knelt slowly before Ciel. The tails of his coat pooled like oil on the ground where he knelt, and Ciel could only judge how close he was by the dark mass almost touching the hem of his white skirt.

The demon stared into the angel's face until he met his eyes, and held the unfocused gaze for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, and the angel flinched at the sight of his sharpened teeth.

His voice was surprisingly soft and light, with a kind of softness to it.

"Scis ubi es?"

The angel made a small sound as his throat closed up, petrified.

The demon turned his head the other way, and rested one of his hands on his knee. "Scis quis ego sim?"

The angel's brow fell in confusion, and his lips parted as if he might speak, but closed his mouth suddenly. The demon shifted, and his newest sacrifice jerked backwards and away, hitting his head again on the tablet.

The demon settled, prepared to wait as long as it took for the angel to respond.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Où suis-je? Qui êtes-vous?"

The demon sighed.

"I suppose that is a no, to both questions." He lamented politically.

The angel lifted one of his hands to his shoulders.

"M-Mes coulisses…"

The demon stood and waved his hand, leaving the angel a generous bubble of space.

"I reattached them. You'll live."

"But-but you touched me?"

The demon turned, and looked down at the angel on his floor with confusion.

"Obviously."

"You didn't burn me." The angel countered, still seated on the ground, though he seemed to have lowered his guard enough to place one of his hands over the ache in his head.

"What?"

"Impure beings burn me if they touch me."

He traced a small welt against his cheek. The demon gave a dangerous, lilting, condescending chuckle.

"Who ever said I was impure?"

The angel slid against the tablet sideways, away from the demon.

"I...I asked you where I am."

"And I asked you if you knew where you were." The demon responded, lifting the cloak that had been dropped to the floor in the angel's flight and tossing it again over the back of his throne.

"I don't think I like the answer to either of those questions." The angel responded.

When the demon turned around, the angel was in the opposite corner of the expansive room, back pressed against the wall and never taking his eye off the demon; his right one was hidden under his hand, trying to ease the pain. The demon reclined into his throne again, which was placed against the far wall of a now fully-developed chamber. He didn't say anything, simply gazed upon the angel, who was observing the room in its entirety.

"If you'll not answer that question, what of my other? Who are you?"

The demon smiled.

"There are many answers to that question."

He stood with ease in a single movement, and advanced towards the angel. The angel let him, eyeing him suspiciously but not dangerously. "The humans call me Satan, sometimes, though they missed a few letters of my name. I am Sebastian."

Sebastian relished in how the angel's eye widened and how he gasped. "So, that is one answer. Obviously," he waved his hand at the room, "I am a demon, though, I suppose, surely most important to you," Sebastian came to the angel and knelt before him, dipping his head almost mockingly,

"I am your fiancé."