In another time...
Elizabeth drifted into the demon's darkness, numb. The throb of her abused body sounded like background with the steady rush of air and power, which sounded not too different than the flow of water. The arm about her could have been made of metal, for all the softness it held. This demon could have been made of stone rather than flesh.
As his wings beat them past barriers she couldn't comprehend, then red sky and dark hills, what she had seen of the demon crossed her mind. Surprisingly short. Bright gold hair. Soft features that could have been childish.
But that was where anything earthly ended. His features had been sharpened to an angry edge, mouth flashing fangs and dark promises, and his eyes…she almost lost her soul in those black holes. The muscles on full display about his body betrayed the soft child-like look he could have had in another dream, and was so unlike the thin, emaciated limbs that she was use to. Never had she seen a man so…well fitted and hale. Rather than radiating health, however, he radiated the same pressure a healthy dragons bared teeth would have given. Deadly strength, without an ounce of kindness.
But the blond hair and the stature…that had surprised her. Then again, this was her first time meeting a demon other than the little, possessing monsters that sometimes plagued the darker edges of the world.
The next thing she knew, his flat, clawed feet reached dry, dank soil, filling her mouth with dust-like dirt. He shifted with her weight as she coughed painfully.
The dirt turned to stone. A paved road? Black slate. Doorways. Many feet, of all kinds, murmurs, and more whispers of wind and power. An uneasy chill, as though the air couldn't decide whether to be inhospitable or merely cold.
She snapped back to attention when her sore body was dumped onto a thick, wine red rug.
"The goddess," said the demon to figures she didn't care to see. She could hear the wry mocking in his tone.
"What the hell is that?" asked another, a little higher and rougher than this demon.
"Did a drunk get too friendly with a pigeon?" cracked another voice, the grin more than apparent.
"No, there's something there…barely. At least what I can tell from here."
"Like I said: what the hell is that?"
"Beats me," said her demon captor. "They wanted control over the weather. So I cursed one of their bloodlines to have some say with the wind, but only enough to wet their appetite. They'll be jumping off trees and cliffs, desperate to fly."
"As expected," purred a voice lower, darker, and deeper than any of the voices she had heard yet. At the sound, her whole body shuddered and collapsed onto the hard ground. In that moment, she could relate to the humans who had passed out at the sound of a demon's laugh.
Cold as ice, paralyzed with unnamed terror, she looked up. The rug scraped along her already raw cheek.
From an awkward, sideways angle on the ground, she followed obsidian steps, reflecting the very red carpet, up to a throne of massive black marble of titanic proportions, which fit the monstrous man who sat in its curves. His body was swathed in strange, elaborate armor of varying silvers and blacks, but she couldn't make out his features beneath billowing waves of black hair and beard and the shadows they created.
But she knew the instant those unseen eyes fell on her. Her breath caught. Her muscles went rigid. Her heart stopped.
"That eye," muttered the giant.
"Thought you might find that interesting," said her captor.
"So she isn't part pigeon?" asked another, but she couldn't move her frozen eyes too look.
The eyes seared into her. Her head spun from lack of air. The dark black throne room swirled in, lifting the floor holding her body up, down, and over.
"A hybrid?"
One of the occupants of the room snorted. "No. No, that's…Father, you do know how babies are made?"
"Do not patronize me, Estrossa."
"Yes sir."
"But a god having sex with a human," said the other voice, respectful, but full of disbelief and disgust. "Forget taste, a human surviving through that…and then why…it'd be like a father made of lava impregnating his daughter."
The gaze must have lifted, for the pressure freezing her body abruptly lifted and she sucked in a burning rush of air.
"I don't much care what she is," said her captor. "She almost gave the humans hope with her healing miracles. I saw a liability, now she isn't. What do you want done with her, Father?"
She curled in on herself, turning her head to her knees and far from meeting the giant king's gaze. She clenched her eyes shut, just for good measure.
She didn't much care what she was either. She didn't much care for anything anymore.
After a moment's silence, the king said, "As long as she's not on the surface, I don't care. She's yours to do with as you will."
One of the voices, Estrossa maybe, made a low 'oooo' that ended in giggles.
"Shut up," said the higher, rough voice.
"As you say, my king." The stone arm scooped beneath her once more and lifted her up. Somehow, her body hurt worse than before, as though she had been laying on nails instead of carpet.
"If you're gonna toss her, can I keep the wings?"
"Estrossa—"
Her captor ignored them, making his way to who knows where off that blood rug.
"Her hair would make a fabulous scarf."
"Would you shut up already?"
A door opened then banged close behind them.
And Elizabeth let herself finally slip into unconsciousness. She most definitely didn't want to be awake for this part anyways.
She hadn't wanted to be awake for any of this.