I hope everyone is doing well in quarantine! Or getting by as best as they can. Here's a short little chapter that's going to come before... a long one. I wrote them chatting INSIDE, like we all should be. they aren't... six feet apart, but one of them is trying.
Ever since she had dragged the toaster oven into her room, so that the demons would stop messing with it, croissants became nearly a daily staple. Her laundry had begun to carry the scent, which was different from the strawberry detergent she typically used. The two melded together in a surprisingly pleasant way. Aside from the compliments on how she smelled like fresh bread, having easy access to snacks couldn't have been beneficial.
Although today, her room carried a foreign element. It smelled... different.
Stretching, Nysza inhaled the faint scent of rosemary. Mimicking incense floating through the room, the smell relaxed her. Arms above her head at the acme of her tension relief, she turned her head to work out the knot in her neck upon the pillow. Squeezing her eyes shut to purge them of any sleepiness, they fluttered open.
Her contented sigh of pleasure rose into a crescendoing scream.
Scrambling to gather the blanket around her in a preservation of modesty, despite being fully clothed in pajamas, she gawked at the demon occupying the space next to her, a grin reaching so high it wrinkled the corners of his mischievous eyes. He too was fully clothed, in his usual attire, the creases of his suit so sharp they could cut a man. His head propped up with one arm, lounging on his side atop of the covers, Crowley regarded her outburst as a normal occurrence.
"Why are you in my bed?" She hissed, hardly above a whisper, as if they were teenagers out past curfew.
"That's funny. I was about to ask you the same question."
Nysza made a noise—a startled warble—similar to if you poked a sleeping kitten. She touched the embroidered covers, ran her hand over the black silk sheets and pillowcases, "But this is my-" The more she assessed her surroundings, the more it became exceedingly clear that she was in the wrong. Her lower lip disappeared under a row of white teeth. "This is…" Trying to be nonchalant and doe-eyed didn't go well together. "This is not my room." The bed was vast and furnished with an opulent flair. Bold purples interspersed with slate-gray furniture, complete with plush, velvety textures were reminiscent of Victorian design. "Why am I in your room?" Because he would know. She felt stupid for asking and realized it sounded even worse out loud.
"Oh? You don't remember?" A coy smirk flickered onto his face. "You came onto me—fervent. Absolutely voracious." He began in a low rumble.
"No." Nysza mouthed.
"I had no choice in the matter. Before I knew it you had me pinned."
"What?!" She wasn't allowed to question the veracity of it, given that she really didn't remember.
"Never predicted those hands would be capable of such marvelous… sin. Not just your hands, of course. I doubt I'll be walking straight for the rest of the day." The demon wet his lips.
"You're bluffing."
"Am I? Shall I go into the finer details?" And he had no qualms with doing so, except his audience had literally rolled off the other side of the bed, expressing no interest in his offer.
The truth of it was…
She had collapsed the evening before and would not awaken. Though she had a pulse and her breathing came slow and steady, the demon felt inexplicably numb at the memory. He had only watched her, quietly, for the endless hours of her unconsciousness.
"I thought about what you said." She paused in her stampeding exit, but shot him a look to recommend he be a bit more specific. "Remember when you suggested I should bond with my mother?" Nysza's face screwed in sympathy.
"That was before she stabbed you." Sucking in a breath, "Look, I'm sorry-"
"Ah. Small misunderstanding." Flapping his hand dismissively did nothing to alleviate her concern.
"Misunderstanding? You almost died f-for real!" And she nearly had several heart attacks during the progression of it. While she was puzzling out how a misunderstanding could result in a stabbing, Nysza rounded the large bed to the side where he was reclined. She stared down at him, blocked by a wall of nonchalance in his eyes.
"But I didn't. And besides, free dagger." Spoken with all the cadence of a sleazy car salesman, "Point is, I took your advice. You could stand to show a little enthusiasm." Presenting the conclusion to her as if she'd won a silent competition they'd been engaged in, Crowley produced a small gloss catalogue from thin air. The catalogue slapped down onto the bed and flew open to a center page.
"And I'm taking it back. Helping someone who did a pretty good job at trying to kill you is an open invitation to try again." The woman insisted.
"Do I look like the kind of being that can die?" She'd have to do a lot better than that. Clearly, the human was still sore over the situation and making no attempt to conceal it. "What if I told you this was for my own personal gain, hm?" Her expression seemed to lighten.
Nysza crossed her arms, lips pulled into a thin line until he cleared his throat and pointed to a photo on the open page. Her eyes slid down to the section he was indicating to. It looked like a fancy shopping magazine as far as she could tell.
Right above his finger was a grotesque picture of a shriveled skull, naturally deformed, and riddled with projectiles impaling the surface area. On the sides of the brown scalp were symbols etched into the bone. Void black cracks spread along the structure, which could have easily been mistaken for rot. She studied it momentarily before sweetly returning her gaze to the demon, honestly not sure what he was getting at.
"Wow, for me? You shouldn't have. I love it. Matches my flower arrangement." If her entire flower arrangement was black, brown, and necrotic...
"It's an old relic, good for enhancing certain magic rituals and the like.." Though he did smirk at her quip. "Hasn't been seen in nearly five centuries... until now." Something he may or may not have had a stake in. "Now that …. Mother appealed to the grand coven, she needs this for a spell-"
"So you did invite their leader for tea!" Apparently, it worked. Clasping her hands together, she scanned the cover, seeing the Lot number, detailing that the artifact was part of an auction.
"Don't say I never listen to you." The illusion of compliance was really all she had from him. He smoothly left out Rowena transforming the witch Olivette into a furry, wheel-sprinting hamster, doomed to stuffing her cheeks forever in a cage..
"So instead of letting her stab you, you want her to blow you up with her full powers?" She exhaled, but drew comfort—ironically—from his declaration of this task being for selfish gain. "The auction's tomorrow night." Now that she got a closer look at the lots, there was an odd quality to the paper.
"Invitation only." Brushing aside her comment on how enhancing Rowena's magic, on purpose, was the equivalent of giving a trigger-happy dictator control over every nation's nuclear bomb switch, he kept the topic on the auction.
"Is it that underground auction you told me about?" Going through the rolodex of stories he had told her—ranted incessantly on—the warded warehouse that served only the most elusive artifacts for bidding was one of them. "Run by the God of Greed?"
"Ugh. No, nothing so tacky." Recoiling as if the whole ordeal were so far beneath him, it couldn't even compete with the dust on his shoe, Crowley raised a finger, "First of all, he's dead."
"Oh." Right.
"Second. This one's in a Rift, an interdimensional tear created by the Fae, so you can imagine how exceptionally dramatic it would be. Location's hidden, unless you have the invitation. And time passes differently, so any prior engagements aren't interrupted" The glimmer in her eyes whenever she became raveled in the strange tales of the supernatural was glowing bright. Most entities sent a representative to Plutus' auction house to obtain the items up for bid, but these lavish parties within the Rift were so grand, it was practically a crime not to grace the hosts with your presence.
"How'd you get one?" Nysza was enraptured by the idea of a Fae realm. She'd only heard stories on how these creatures were so ethereally beautiful and mysterious, people often mistook them for angels.
"I didn't." The wonderment reeled back and she began to contemplate his habits.
"You have someone on the inside." She concluded, watching an oddly satisfying grin creep across his features at having his methods prodded. The demon dipped his chin, confirming the theory. "It actually sounds… enchanting."
"Then it's a date." The expression of shock that blipped onto her face was priceless. She hadn't actually thought he would personally attend, defaulting to sending a demon agent, or two, to carry out his orders. And now she was invited to come along?
"You want me to accompany you?" Had she heard correctly? Was he formally escorting her somewhere and not zapping her out or in at a most inconvenient time. "Why?" Suspicion quirked her brow, a slight wrinkle touching the top of her nose, right between her eyes.
"Is it so horrible to want to spend time with my little rabbit?" The King didn't have time for frivolous things such as quality moments with another living being. He was likely pushing an ulterior motive of some kind, and to be frank, Nysza was getting rather proud of herself for being able to pick up on them. It only took a giant handful of years…
"You said it's a fancy party?"
"Only the elites are invited—white tie. Marbled floors with colors you've never laid eyes on before, Royal Orchestra, at least a dozen chocolate fountains that will induce indescribable euphoria—delirium, actually." If he could pique her interest with prose and otherworldly delights, it would have been all too easy.
"There'll be dancing?" Certainly a lot of formalities before the auction took place.
"You hate dancing, specifically the partner kind." He saw a smile tug at her lips, "But yes."
"That settles it." Nysza bounced and spun, "I'm not going. Good luck." Rolling her shoulders back in one more stretch, she gave him a wave and crossed the room to the exit.
"You wouldn't make me go alone, would you?" She halted, almost scoffing at how he was going to guilt her. "After all, we still aren't sure if I'm entirely healed from that poison dagger."
"It's been a few days." Though confidence inlaid her point, it waned at the edges out of concern. Again, she knew what he was doing. "Well, then maybe you shouldn't go prancing around some Fae auction party, and rest!" Sending his slew of demons to complete the task in his stead would have been smarter, "If you die at that party, they're going to use your moldy body as an auction piece like that skull, after I went through the trouble of pulling out the dagger…" Muttering until her voice faded out, Nysza hissed.
"Careful Rabbit." A stern cadence swept his accent, "Sounds like you're concerned about me." He'd accused her of that before, and she always answered the same way. Perhaps he simply craved hearing it. He hated it. How disgraceful it must have been for the King of Hell to be understood by a human like her.
"I am! Always! There's a lot to be concerned about!" She huffed.
"Hm. I see." Finally, he sat up. The bed creaked and Crowley flinched, inhaling sharply past his clenched jaw. He leaned dangerously to the side, bracing his hand against the mattress for support as a strangled cry choked back in his throat.
"What is it?!" Pitch skyrocketing, Nysza bounded back to him, arms flailing. She'd whirled so quickly, she nearly performed a 360 degree turn instead of a 180. "Wh-What's wrong?" Vaulting onto the bed and scrambling to where he was, the girl hovered her hands over his face, searching for some nonverbal indication to his state. "Are you okay? I told you not to-"
The makings of a smile curved the corner of his lip. She quickly caught onto his theatrics, expression falling to unveil horror as she dropped her arms to her sides like a dead weight.
"YOU!" Pink visibly tinted her cheeks despite her right hand clamped over her eyes. She could see him shift back into a relaxed position, entirely unaffected. " How dare you? Th-that was uncalled for!" With that, Nysza raised the hand that wasn't on her face and reflexively hit the King of Hell.
Oh, that felt good.
"I should smother you." Eyeing the pillow with a vengeful scowl, Nysza bit the inside of her cheeks. The demon was blatantly making fun of her and she had fallen for it. A deep chuckle, low in his chest only served to increase her discomfort. "If you think this changed my mind, it did the exact opposite." Just for his information.
"Let me make it up to you." His voice was softer, but the modicum of sincerity was still standing trial.
After having studied the demon for a fair amount of time, anything from small gestures like how his eyes would dart when he was stumped, to the deflective speech pattern he favored, Nysza could predict when he was going to snap his fingers. And that just so happened to be right now.
"NonoNO I'm not dressed!" Because that line has totally worked before.
One snap. And they were both no longer in the bedroom.
Thank you so much for reading! I cry every time I see a notification for this story.