His gaze is blank as he looks out upon the sea of chaos that is the foyer, chin propped lazily in one hand as the other taps slowly to an unheard rhythm against the stained wood of the railing. The grand staircase of the main entrance is once again stage to a life changing event, icy gaze tracking every movement of his father and stepmother made. The baby is coming. The baby is coming and gone is the calm and collected business that is his father. In his place a panicked, disorganized storm that flits from room to room in search of the overnight bag. Servants move sporadically about as they too hustle about the in attempts to locate the bag. Andromeda is the only calm one, gingerly walking down the stairs with the assistance of a maid with tiny laughs each time her husband stops to kiss her on the cheek and tell her to keep calm.

He's the one that needs to keep calm.

Rin ignores the overnight bag that lays at his feet, his own bags alongside it. The flight from Russia had been long, his mother having kept him up all night with the lavish birthday party she'd thrown herself. He'd tried to stay by her side as the party dragged on, his eyes growing heavy despite his efforts as the cloud of smoke that filled their home grew. Even when he'd left, the party was still in full swing, his mother only giving him a brief kiss on the head before a steward drove him to the air strip. His mother had been distracted by her own life And now, watching his father run about without having once greeted him, her words plague his thoughts.

Was he truly being replaced? Forgotten? Once this baby was here, would he be abandoned? Would he even be a memory in his father's new life?

"Well played, child…" Rin sighed as he grabbed the overnight bag and waves at a maid. He slings the bag at her with ease, the maid being knocked back slightly from the weight of the bag. "Father seems to have forgotten how to hold onto his head." The maid says nothing, knowing better than to try to correct the young master when his gaze was that of ice. With a small bow, the maid scurried down the stairs.

Rin tracks the maid, his gaze wistful as she hands the bag to his father. Andromeda wobbles as she groans, finally having made it to the doors. His father is fretting and looks tempted to carry his wife to the car himself but his hands are swatted away. Andromeda throws him a dry look, almost daring him to challenge her. A nervous grin then the two are out the door without another word. The chaos ceases. The hustle and bustle to help the unorganized couple is no longer required with the masters' of the house gone. As one, the servants resume their previous activities and Rin is left alone at the top of the staircase. He stands there, forgotten, with only his bags for company.

"Not even born yet and you've already taken my spot."

His face is unreadable as he kneels to collect his bags, stinging eyes threatening him with tears. He would not cry. His mother had warned him and this was the consequence of not listening. When father tired of her, he got a new wife. He tires of his son, and soon there will be a new child. This was just the way things ha-

"RIN!"

Icy orbs look down through the rails at the flushed face of his father. The man is panting, arms spread wide from having slammed open the doors. He looks around wildly before his gaze lands his son, fine wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and lips as he smiles. "Rin." He starts but his smile falters as his son stares impassively at him. "Rin? What's wrong my little knight?"

There's a small flinch as a sharp "Tch" is directed at him, a move much too reminiscent of his ex wife. "Come back for me, have you?" The boy asked, a perfectly arched brow raised in contempt. With a sharp turn of the heel, he believes that to be the end of the conversation. His own chest stings at the dismissal, the memory of his mother doing this exact thing so many times a bitter memory. He wants nothing more than to run down to his father but there is no point. He and his mother shall soon be nothing but a memory in these walls.

There's a thudding noise approaching, heavy footfalls across dark wood that grow louder with each second. Warm arms wrap around the cold little boy and he pauses. When was the last time he felt a hug like this?

"Of course I came for you." His father spoke into his hair. Rin is stiff in his father's hold, unsure of how to react. "I know I haven't made a lot of time for you but you're still my son. So why would I leave you behind when you only just got back?"

"You weren't there to pick me up." There's a hollow sound to his voice. No child should ever sound that empty and devoid of emotion. "Mother said you would replace me just as you did her."

The arms around him tighten before he is lifted, one arm under him to support his weight while the other takes his bag. "I have no excuse for not being there. I should have." His father sounds so apologetic as he lightly bounces him. Rin can feel the exhaustion that he'd been pushing back trying to creep forward. "I don't know what your mother has been saying to you but I would never replace you." Fingers slowly start to card through his hair as soft jolts further rock him while his father descends the stairs. "You are my son, my little knight."

Something covers him once his father reaches the bottom of the stairs, his steps evening out. There's a sudden chill but it's easily blocked by whatever was draped across his back. "I could never replace you because you are my one and only Rin."

His eyes are heavy, the soothing sound of his father's voice lulling him to sleep. He's only vaguely aware of the change in position as his father bends before settling down. The air is warmer but his father keeps him bundled in his arms. A soft voice whispers something but he's too tired to care. When was the last time someone held him like this? He'd been pushing everyone but his mother away. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have their warmth. Maybe his mother was being too overprotective? Maybe she was overthinking this whole replacement thing?

"It's impossible to even think about replacing you. I loved you from the moment you were born and have loved you more ever since."

She just didn't understand that his father had a different type of love.

They were discreet in their arrival, the two of them exiting the Gate right inside her room. Demiurge carries the nephilim in his arms, her blood soaked clothes having turned back into the white gown she wore before. The gown, if one could call it that, was little more than scorched scraps of fabric draped over her skin for modesty. Only the dark can see them, the shadows of the room slowly receding as torches lit themselves dimly. There is a comfort to the silence between the two beings as Demiurge makes his way to the bathroom, blood running hot beneath his skin as he carries his precious cargo.

Carissimi is calm, lazy even, in Demiurge's hold as she basks in the weightlessness of being carried. Her arms are wrapped loosely around broad shoulders to give herself the minimum amount of support to keep her wings off the ground while her tail drapes limply over an arm. White lashes fan gently against dark cheeks as a content sigh rolls past her lips. The high of her carnage has run its course and she's left with an almost sleepy sense of content. Another sigh causes her fangs to gently scrape her lower lip and she's reminded of the other hunger that simmers below the surface. Peering up through lidded eyes, Carisimmi studies the sharp features of Demiurge. He's handsome, undeniably so. His form is made of long lines and sharp angles that lend to his devious appearance. He was slim compared to Sebas, a body made to be fast and deadly with long limbs for extra reach.

Limbs that held her close,secure.

She's more than aware yet completely blind to the leather grip on her bare thigh, long fingers almost encompassing her leg. Carissimi had once pegged him as the bad boy type but that was wrong. He was far more complex, those hands so much more careful and skilled than any man she'd ever met. He was gentle with everything he cared for, his pianist-like fingers fluid and elegant when dealing with their art.

The doors to her private bath open on their own and the two make their way inside. Demiurge stops halfway to the bath and gently puts her on her feet. Carisimmi sighs as her feet make contact with the cool marble, the last vestiges of her demonic form disappearing with her fully relaxed state. "Thank you, Demiurge." She says. "That wi-"

"If I may, Lady Carisimmi?" Demiurge interrupted. "I would be honored to assist you with your bath."

Carisimmi eyes the demon as she weighs the offer. She has no qualms about letting the demon see her naked despite how she would be apprehensive otherwise. The lingering influence of her succubus blood kills any thought of protest, welcoming the chance to display herself to the archdevil. Her head tilts to the side as she looks over her shoulder, turning her backs towards him to allow him access to the remains of her corset. "You may."

Demiurge grins and approaches her. There's no salvaging the dress, his claws easily cutting through the laces. The scraps of fabric slide to the floor and reveal her nude form to his hungry eyes. Carisimmi stares at him through lowered lashes and crosses the rest of the space to the bath. A deep sigh escapes her as she eases into the water, clear water. Her eyes slide shut as she allows the warmth of the bath to relax her further. There's a soft rustle of fabric and brief scent of smoke before a gentle hand lands on her shoulder.

"Lady Carissimi, I have taken the liberty of disposing of the scraps of your dress." Demiurge says, Carisimmi opens her eyes to see Demiurge kneeling next to the bath, his jacket, tie and gloves missing with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Several bottles stand along the edge of the bath next to him. Carisimmi watches with curious eyes as he carefully pours their contents into the bath, the clear water turning an opaque shade of pink that smelled of cherries and roses. "Oh." She says with a pleasantly surprised expression as the water begins to bubble and fuzz. "I haven't had a bubble bath in years."

"Well, I believe it's best for a Supreme Being to indulge themselves." He murmured good naturedly as he picked up a washcloth and poured a generous amount of body wash on it. "You have done so much for Nazarick and deserve to be worshipped at every step."

Carisimmi doesn't argue with him, content to lavish in her darker pleasure. Demiurge is diligent in his care and enjoys the way the angel relaxes into his touch. She lets him dote on her and he takes full advantage of it. His hands travel across every inch of her skin, accepting each offered limb with a pleased grin. Grooming her wings himself this time, rinsing her, brushing her in all the right places just at the limit of reasonable.

Carisimmi soaks up his care like a desert rose in the rain. Her eyes are full of dark intentions as they track his form everytime he gets up to replenish soaps and other potions. Demiurge preens under her watchful gaze. It's clear to both their eyes that she delights in his form currently. The show of skin, the sight of his muscles under his half soaked clothes, his dancing tail. It all calls to her inner desires.

They are doing an invisible dance that has been performed countless times before. She knows not what his actions mean in their entirety but her instincts are enough to guide her. They whisper how he's too proud, too confident, too comfortable in his position. His peacocking translates as a sensual challenge between demons. The voice whispers of how he has to be put in place. How she must prove her dominance.

His tail moves by her shoulder and she strikes. Grabbing it, Carisimmi gives him no chance to react as she summons all her strength and yanks him into the bath, shoes and all. He disappears beneath the water's surface, the bubbles and oils making him impossible to spot. Carissimi chuckled and made herself comfortable as she waited for him to surface. He's back within seconds, raven hair heavy with water and blocking his sight. His hands moved to slick back his hair and fix his askew glasses as he looked at her with confusion. She sits a little straighter, not shy at all as her breast rises from the water for his greedy eyes. Chin raised and head tilted to the side, she looked down at him with a coy smirk. She purrs at his momentary loss of composure.

"Looks like you might've eventually needed a bath too. Seeing you hesitate if I took time to propose for you to join me wouldn't have been as satisfying." Her words are haughty and heavy with challenge. Demiurge says nothing as he closes the distance between them. Carisimmi's smirk falters a bit but she refuses to back down. "I apologize." The water rises in temperature between their two bodies. "Then again, I don't think you minded any of this."

Start of Lewd

The two stare each down before Demiurge breaks the staring contest. Demiurge's wicked grin was her only warning before he was lost beneath the bubbles. Jeweled eyes try uselessly to track the devil's movements, legs shifting anxiously as she squirmed in her seat.

"Demiurge." Carisimmi called out softly as the seconds passed with no sign of the demon. Her brows furrowed as she made to seek him out when something caressed her right leg. Long fingers curled gently around her ankle and lifted it, stretching the limb under the surface to meet a warm pair of lips. Carrisimi's breath caught in her throat as she felt a gentle kiss pressed to the top of her foot. There's a quickening to her pulse as those lips slowly start to trail their way up her leg. The lips stop briefly at her inner knee, body jerking when sharp fangs nip at the skin. There's a boldness to the bite, the slight sting soothed by a smooth touch.

Her heart almost stops when she realizes it's his tongue.

Small bites and kisses are peppered across her inner thigh, the hand that had been wrapped around her ankle now moving her thigh to settle it over a shoulder. Carissimi can't see him but that only heightens the way he touches her. His lips meet the juncture where her thigh meets hip. A broken cry escapes her lips when he merely nips her hip before offering her other leg the same treatment. Her hands move on their own, grabbing at his hair to bring him where she needs him most. Demiurge immediately pulls away, out of her reach and still out of sight. It's an unspoken command: Don't touch.

But oh how she wants to.

Obediently, though reluctantly, Carisimmi settled her hands on either side and gripped the marble beneath her. Still, there is a bit of defiance as she clenches her legs together and squirms against her seat, desperate for friction and release. Her breath comes out in small pants as her core slides against the smooth marble with zero resistance, her arousal and frustration mounting.

Demiurge only smiles as he tastes the light notes of her arousal around him. He has no need to surface for breath nor does he have any intention of it. He won't give up this game of theirs. He ignored the slight sting of the soap and oils in his eyes as he commits the sight of her naked form to his memory. Closing the distance between himself and her legs, his hands settle on her knees. He pries them apart easily and feels himself grow harder as a new wave of her arousal taints the water.

Her heart jumps at the unexpected touch. Every nerve is dialed to eleven as she anxiously awaits his next move. She's hyper aware of the sinfully slow glide of Demiurge's hands on her thighs. Of the feel the fabric of his shirt as his shoulders settled between her thighs, their width keeping her legs spread wide for him. The coil that's been growing in her stomach tightens as the point of his ear trails her inner thigh as he lowers his head closer and closer to her center. Her body thrums with need as she offers no resistance to his ministrations. Demiurge purred darkly, the sound lost but the rumbles of his chest vibrated between the two of them as the demon dragged his nose below Carrisimi's navel.

If there was one feature Demiurge absolutely loved on his mistress, it was most definitely her legs. He could write sonnets for eons about them. Lady Carisimmi's preference for clothes with high slits were a gift and mercy upon his unworthy soul, the long limbs almost always on display. How long has he wished to run his hands across the smooth skin of her thighs? How often has he studied the gentle flex of her muscles as she walked? How long has he imagined laying his lips upon them?

He knows that he's greedy but how could hold back when the center of his many dreams are laid bare in his hands?

"D-Demiurge!" Carisimmi threw her head back at the gentle swipe on Demiurge's tongue against her folds. Her hands fly to his hair and grasp the raven strands in a firm grip. Demiurge merely chuckles at the slight pain and drags his tongue against her more firmly. A whine is pulled from Carisimmi as his tongue parts her folds and moves extra slowly against her clit. Demiurge smiles dangerously as the taste of her fills clouds his every sense. His tail slowly snaked its way up her legs and wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her in place as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. Carisimmi jolted as though she were electrocuted as the demon hummed around the swollen nub.

"D-Demi-Demiurge…" It was difficult to talk, her body unused to the sensations. Her tentative exploration did nothing to prepare her for the sensations Demiurge Demiurge evoked with just his mouth. Carisimmi's cheeks burned as a heavy moan was skillfully drawn from her as Demiurge continued his onslaught. Her fingers curled tighter into his hair, pulling him closer while trying to guide him just a little lower. "Ple-please...I need… Ah …"

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes when sharp teeth gently tugged at her swollen nub. Her back bowed forward as her wings arched high above her. She was so close. Just. A little. More…

"Lady Carsimmi?"

Carisimmi and Demiurge both freeze at the sound of Sebas's voice as he enters the bathroom. The demon doesn't make any motion to move, his lips still wrapped tightly around his mistress's button. The butler approaches the bath with evenly measured steps when he spots his mistress, her white hair and wings offering a near perfect camouflage amongst the bubbles. The scent of the oils and soaps cover any others. There is no evidence towards Demiurge being there and for that she is grateful. "H-hello Sebas." Her voice is a little breathy as she tries to collect herself, gently pushing at Demiurge's head. "Did you need someth ing!"

Demiurge could clearly hear Sebas through the water and took this as a challenge. His teeth and tongue are his weapons of choice as he delves into Carisimmi's lower lips. His tongue dives between her folds and prods at her hole, the tip tracing the edge. The grip on his hair tightens and tries to pull him away but it only spurs him on. With a smile that is all teeth, Demiurge stiffens his tongue and wiggles it inside. Warm, wet walls cling and flutter around his long tongue, tasting every inch of her cavern.

Carisimmi struggles to maintain her composure as she feels something slither inside of her. Demiurge's tongue is unnaturally long and slick, reaching places she couldnt and going deeper with each stroke. Her hands push desperately at Demiurge's head, embarrassment and arousal fighting against each other. Her face is on fire as Sebas comes to stand at her back. "Are you alright, Lady Carissimi?" He asks as he takes in her trembling form. He kneels and starts preparing to assist her, gloves removed and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "W-wait!" She moans.

Sebas freezes at the sound. He takes a moment to carefully scent the air and barely holds back his own sounds of desire. So close he can practically taste her arousal, the underlying spice of her succubus magic only enhancing it. His pants become impossibly tight as blood immediately flows south, his member hardening under the implications of what he was witnessing.

He had walked in on his mistress pleasuring herself in the bath.

His fangs ache to bury themselves in the unmarred juncture of her neck. The scent of her desire is something that he has imprinted in his mind, a memory he calls upon each night and revels in as he holds her smaller form close. Sebas has seen her naked many times and can't help but imagine what exactly she's doing below the water. This is the only scent, the only person who can ever stir the desires. "M'lady." Sebas breathed as he leaned in till his lips were centimeters away from her ear. "Would you like some assistance?"

Demiurge redoubled his efforts to bring Carisimmi over the edge when she clenched down on his tongue at Sebas's voice. This was him staking his claim as much as it was him providing her with pleasure. Until he could truly mate with her, Demiurge would make sure that every time Carisimmi looked at him she would feel him. He would thoroughly mark her inside and paint every inch of her cavern with his touch. Determination and spite feuling him, he tightened his grip on the Supreme Being and pulled her closer. His tongue ploughed deeper and curled tightly against that spot that made her see stars. Her legs tried to slam shut, thighs crushing Demiurge's head and holding him in was merciless in his onslaught, pumping his tongue and massaging her most intimate spot with his lips as Carisimmi cummed from just his mouth.

Carisimmi released a long, drawn out moan as Demiurge continued to stimulate her over sensitive body through her orgasm. Her lips are dark and swollen as she bites them to keep from screaming Demiurge's name. Electricity raced across every nerve as her head was thrown back and neck bared for Sebas. The butler swallowed deeply as he resisted the urge to simply claim the angel right there, her orgasm thickening the air with her pheromones. Demiurge continued to work his tongue as he slowly eased Carissimi down from the peak, relishing the tremors of her body while he gently eased her legs off his shoulders. His tongue pulls out like a cork, her juices flowing out. Not a single drop goes to waste, Demiurge sealing his lips around her entrance and drinking everything she has to offer. He drank in her sounds, her scent, her taste and especially her movements. Another tremor wracks her body at the action and Demiurge finally shows mercy. He backed away with a "cat that that got the cream" smirk and sat on the floor of the bath to wait, savoring the flavors of Carisimmi's essence.

Mortification burns her cheeks but the heat of her completion completely covers it. Carisimmi pants as she leans her head back against Sebas, her body lax and legs weak. Sebas keeps a tight leash on his instincts as he tracks her pulse with his eyes, the vein thrumming against her skin and calling to him. Instead, he allows his gaze to wander towards her face and takes in her relaxed features. Her eyes are hazy and unfocused, lips parted oh so temptingly in a small "o" as she catches her breath. He wants to kiss her but doesn't, not wanting to over stimulate or get her worked back up. "M'lady, would you like me to carry you to bed?"

End of Lewd

Carisimmi nods and moans weakly in response. Sebas is uncaring about how his clothes are soaked as he picks the angel straight out of the water and carries her out of the bathroom. Another shudder travels through Carisimmi as her puffy lower lips rub against themselves and are exposed to the cool air. Her body is tired and relaxed after everything, Sebas's steady gait lulling her to sleep.

Oh, she was so going to get back at Demiurge for this.

The doors shut with a click as the two exit the bathroom. Seconds pass before Demiurge surfaces, his smug expression devilishly sexy with his dripping hair and clothes. The imp licks his lips as he chases the lingering taste of Carisimmi on his lips. His long fingers drag through his hair and messily combs it back as he stares at the bathroom doors.

"I do believe I've moved up ahead, Sebas."

There are few things that bring a genuine smile to his face by merely existing. Lady Carisimmi's own happiness was at the top of that list. Karma's innocent smile whenever he patted her on the head was a close second. His garden never failed to tug at his lips when there was a good harvest. A warm cup of tea with sweets was also on the list. Sephiroth was a demon of simple, worldly pleasures. There was no sin to have in these desires, so tame they were in nature. The irony of his existence is not lost on him but that is yet another thing that brings a smile to his normally impassive face. So small the list yet so impactful it was.

He would do anything to protect those things.

He knows his creator's love for children better than anyone. They were the one thing she wanted above all else but couldn't have. Pages upon pages were filled with the pain of her loss and the depth of her desire. The weight of her diaries were a constant pressure in his chest, a reminder of how much she trusted him…

And of how close he came to never existing.

He was given the blessing of life through the pain of her loss. He had a debt that went beyond that of NPCs and Supreme Beings. Her love was a brand on his soul, the secret words of familial connection something he knew himself unworthy of. All he can do is make sure she never faces the loss of a precious child again. The happiness of the children, the four within this Tomb, were her own and so he would carry the burden of keeping their smiles.

But it's hard to reassure Aura that he's fine without words while his own sword is run through his heart. He can only hold out his hand in warning as he falls to his knees, uncaring as he dirties his pristine white pants. His eyes are hard and pleading as he tries to convey the danger of coming near him as green blood dribbles past his lips and flows from the wound in his chest. The sight of his blood causes unease.

The sound of it causes distress.

The first drop hits the ground with an unnatural hiss, the sand bubbling as it was eaten away. The bubbles sizzle for a second like oil in a hot pan before they burst into pale green flames. This seems to set off a reaction as the blood spills faster, a growing puddle of acid and fire pooling around Sephiroth. Hazy white mist filled the air in a fine cloud that reeked of rotting flowers, overly sweet and cloying with the undertones of sickness. A dragon kin who'd stepped to close started choking, clawing at its throat as it too began to cough up blood. The air was toxic, the poisoned status appearing on those who breathed in the smoke's fumes. Another dragon kin tried to drag its brethren away when they started to howl. All eyes were on the two as the smoke made contact with their skin, chemical burns and sores eating away at their flesh. The smoke seemed almost alive as it became denser around them, their skin deteriorating at an increasing pace. Flesh slid from bone with wet splats and shriveled under the caustic chemicals.

His gaze grows heavy the faster his blood spills, his sword falling to the sludge like put he's slowly sinking in. The metal doesn't stand a chance against the corrosive properties of his blood, the broken blade swiftly consumed.

Those who were still standing back away quickly, none wanting to become a part of Sephiroth's unwilling attack. Aura's eyes widened in horror as she watched what could have easily happened to her if Sephiroth hadn't warned her away. Her mismatched gaze was dragged back to the incubus, hoping that he would somehow be fine. That hope was dashed as she watched Sephiroth slowly sink into the growing pit of fire and became the sand. His face was that of reluctant resignation, eys blank and unseeing as his own blood set him a blaze. Bile rose in the back of her throat as his skin, flawless as ever, slowly became its own kindling. Tears burned and blurred her vision, a white hand blocking her gaze.

Shalltear stood in silence as she watched Sephiroth burn, his body engulfed in the flames that he created. The pit swallowed his ash and bones, the fires going out without fuel to keep them going. The vampire walked away slowly, her arms wrapped around Aura to keep her from seeing the shiny patch of rapidly cooling black glass. "Don't look." Shalltear whispers, her voice unnaturally solemn as she keeps the young elf's gaze covered. "There are some things that you should never see."

There are no other words to be said as the two depart, a blood curdling cry ringing through the Tomb the only signal of a loss.

There's no discernible noise as she walks, her steps light and delicate as she circles her pet from atop the walls of her maze. Her pet has been cleaned up and looks quite adorable in her opinion with his new outfit. He's dressed in all white, his shirt having long, billowy sleeves with ruffles on the end and a pair of crisp slacks. The ribbon around his throat still rests against his collar bones in a giant bow. His bare feet allow him to walk quietly on the cold stone floor as he wanders aimlessly through the maze.

There's an odd sense of peace in the air. Karma isn't happy nor is she upset. Content seems more appropriate but is still a stretch. She enjoys playing with her pet and eating all the delicious snacks the kitchen provides. She has her own play area and all the space she could possibly want. No one tells her no and someone always comes after to clean up when she makes a mess. But Karma is still not content. She's not greedy or selfish so it's not any material desire that has her feeling this way. She does as she pleases so there's no real reason for her not to go and have fun.

Karma has a million reasons to be happy. But she's not. Because Karma is a lonely, forgotten child. And being lonely can ruin any chance of being content.

So here she is, walking across the glass walls that make up her playground as she quietly stalks her pet. She has no intention of playing with him, only watching. Waiting. For what, she doesn't know. Or maybe it's the who she should be asking about herself. There's no clear cut answer when dealing with Karma. Only walls you can see through but never get past.

The idleness of her actions is so unlike her that it's far more unnerving than her usual torment.

There's an emptiness inside her that denotes her feelings of merely existing. Here she stands, with all the freedom and treasures she could ever want or need and yet her pet seems to have a more fulfilling life than here. His days seem to have more meaning than hers even if it's only to amuse her. His life has some meaning, some purpose in spite of how twisted it is. He has company and care ( as debatable as it is ) from the one that brought him here. There's never a dull moment for him and he is the best possible care for his status. It's almost enviable.

How long has it been since Lady Carissimi called upon her? How long has it been since Sephiroth came to see her? When was the last time either of them played with her? Before they came to this new world, they were always close. They doted on her, indulged her smallest desires. They would spend hours locked away in Lady Carrisimi's chambers, just the three of them. Their happy little family.

Now she only sees Lady Carissimi at night when the angel sleeps beside her butler. Sephiroth is merely a fleeting glance of pink in her peripherals in the dining hall. They devote all of their time towards the Tomb and none to her. The gap between them grows each day they are apart. Lady Carisimmi's distance she can understand, to some extent. She is a Supreme Being, a goddess, their Queen Mother. Her duties and heart will always fall to the care of her people. She has responsibilities now that Lord Ainz has left to survey this new world. But what of Sephiroth, her other half? What duties could he possibly have that could keep him away from her? He has always followed her and let her speak for both of them. He always stood by and gave her little pats on the head when she asked. He was her best friend.

So why wasn't he there?

Her pet stops his aimless stroll and turns his gaze towards her. How long had he known she was there? Ther gazes clash, swirling wine and muddy waters painting a clear difference in their status. But where she was devoid of all color sans those piercing red eyes, he was filled with the colors of life. She was a blank canvas, empty and lifeless. And try as she might by clothing him in white, white was always terrible at covering colors.

There's something in his eyes that Karma can't quite identify, but it burns her.

They stay like that, eyes locked together in some unspoken conversation that she breaks first.

It starts with a flinch, so tiny it could be mistaken for a breath. Then, there's a blink, slow and confused, spirals slowing to a halt. There's a pause, then her eyes widen impossibly as the spirals come to a complete halt. Hands come scrabble at her chest as a wheeze builds up in her throat, breaths coming in broken pants as her throat constructs. There's pain, so much pain. Why does she feel pain? Why does she feel like she's suffocating when she doesn't even need to breathe? Her normally dulled senses nerves were dialed to eleven, her skin crawling as pain filled her being. Her heart felt like a fiery lance in her chest as she clawed at it.

Her pet watched with an unknown emotion as she tore at her skin, sharp claws easily tearing through her unimpenitrable skin. Through the torn cloth of her dress and the black blood soaking the white fabric, he could see toxic green veins emanating from her heart. The skin and cloth knitted itself back with each pass of those claws but it wasn't enough to stop the spread of the veins. They creeped like reaching vines across the left side of her throat and face, hairline fractures appearing in her eye as her breaths grew tighter. Her skin was like broken porcelain, chips of her flaking away as the veins covered her entire left side.

He stumbled backwards, Karma toppling off the wall as her legs gave out from under her. The air grows colder, the flakes of her skin forming ice fractals wherever they fall as she lays motionless on her side. He can do nothing but sit there frozen as he watches his keeper curled up in a helpless heap. It would be so easy to kill her if she isn't already. He still has the knife she gave him that first day. Its blade is a heavy weight against hsi waist under his clothes, the cool metal a constant reminder of her mercy. But she's completely defenseless. For the first time since he's been here, he's not at her mercy.

But what would he even do after that?

He's been here for what feels like months, maybe years. Time means nothing when there's no way to keep track of it. Every waking minute stretches and bleeds into the next as he walks these invisible halls aimlessly. There's no day/night cycle, the unknown light source never dimming or wavering. You could spend only an hour but loose years as the solitude and unchanging surroundings blurred the lines of reality. Meals aren't even a reliable form of timekeeping, the need for food taken from him. Words had been muttered over him by his keeper and her own blood forced down his throat, an empty feeling always there but never hunger.

He knows he is no longer as he was. He has fallen from grace and there is nothing for him to return to. The Sunlight Scripture was wiped out in a single night. Any survivors were trapped somewhere in this tomb. The demihumans they looked down upon stood above them.

His thoughts are cut off by a small cry.

His keeper shakes as quiet cries escape her. She seems to struggle as she pushes herself to her knees, eyes shadowed by her bangs. There is a tension to her posture as she struggles to support her weight with one hand whilst the other clutches her chest. Her cries are slowly climbing in volume, small body wracked with tremors as heaving sobs fall from her lips. The temperature drops further the louder she gets, the crystalline tears that freeze glittering tracks across her cheeks and falling like diamonds to the floor. He can't see her left side clearly, her body angled to hide that side, but he can see no hint of the blood or veins from his position.

His relief confuses him.

Tentatively, he eases off the wall he's been plastered to this whole time. Had this been his first day here, he would have taken this opportunity to run. But he's come to accept his place here. It's odd to see this cruel little girl lying weak like this.

"Mistress?" He calls out. It's only a trigger. The sobs become a strangled noise as she chokes on her tears. She bows over, forehead pressed to the floor as she shudders for breath. He takes another step and her head is suddenly thrown back with a scream that makes the screams of the damned seem like an angelic choir. The scream is more of an amalgamation of noise than anything, layers of tortured cries warped around a howl of pure agony. There's no real way to describe the noise. But that is the least of his worries.

Under the scream are sharp cracks, like a window fracturing. Visible cracks appeared in the air all around him,spreading like violent streaks of lightning in arcing webs. The invisible barriers that kept him lost were forced to show themselves as the sheer volume and ever plummeting temperatures made them brittle. The fact that he can't feel the cold barely crosses his mind as he catches his reflection in a frosted piece of glass. His own dead gaze almost seems to judge him all around…

The world shattered.

Huge sheets of glass rain down all around them as the maze crumbles around them. The pain of the glass slicing into him doesn't even register as he walks through the falling shards towards the screaming girl. Maybe he's finally broken? Will she even want him if he is? The glass cuts into his bare feet as closes the distance, bloody footprints like a trail of rubies across the frozen shards. The thought of being nothing to her doesn't sit well with him. Everything is white noise as he gets closer. He's been her loyal pet for so long. She told him her every dark thought and hidden hurt. It is his duty to care for her and ensure her happiness.

That is his only purpose.

He stands directly in front of her and takes note of her left side. Her face is broken, large cracks and chunks of missing space marring the porcelain skin. How often people likened her to a doll, her fair skin just that. Colorless skin peeks through the broken areas, hell "face" crumbling more as she continues to scream, eyes clenched shut. He moves with a fluidity that comes with years of training as he falls to his knees and draws his knife. The blade glides easily through the flesh of his palm, blood running freely down the same arm that his mistress broke when they first met. He deftly slaps his hand over her mouth, silencing her scream and letting the blood flow freely down her throat.

Karma's eyes snap open, her right slowly swirling whilst the left is pitch black minus a tiny pinprick of white. Her pet doesn't even flinch at unnatural color, only pressing his hand more firmly to her mouth. Her tongue moves instinctively to prod the wound, the taste of the blood shocking her back to reality. Her eyes are wide with confusion as she takes in the cuts covering her pet and the fact that he willingly put himself in a position to be devoured. Her hand comes to his wrist and pulls it away, blood smearing across her lips in the process.

"What the hell are you doing?" She demands though there's no real bite to her words. Her voice has lost that child like chime and lacks any sort of whimsy. Jagged teeth peek through her lips as she speaks, her true form wanting to break free of her normally ironclad control. Their eyes are locked, her cold stare meeting his unwavering gaze, demanding his submission.

"Mistress." Her pet starts, an unplaceable emotion tinting his dead tone. "Apologies but I am worried about you."

The muscles of her face go slack as Karma releases her grip on her pet's wrist, the skin already a dark purple. "What did you say?" Karma askes. Her pet holds out his hand again, palm up and pooling with offered blood. "I am worried, mistress." His voice repeats. "If you are unhappy, then I have failed my purpose. I can only offer myself up to you in hopes you'll feel better…"

His brows furrow and the emotion in his voice deepens. "However… I fear that this goes deeper than I can even hope to ease."

Concern. The emotion she hears from him is concern. Karma has never heard concern before. Fear and awe, yes. But never concern. Who would ever be concerned for her? Suspicion paints her features as she tries to collect herself. Her pet is lacking proper fear and deference if he thinks she wants his pity . A cruel smirk stretches across her face as her tongue snakes out to glide through the blood, the blackened tip of an ear poking out of her hair as she tilts her head. "You seem to be mistaken, pet." The cracks slowly close and mend as she speaks. "You should be more concerned for yourself. Or have you truly decided that you wish to die by my jaws?"

Her pet is silent as the blood is cleaned from his hands.

"In death, there's nothing." His voice is quiet. Karma stops prodding the wound with her tongue and looks at him in confusion. "Even If I were to die, there would be no relief. I would simply cease to exist. My life would hold no meaning." He looks at her and for the first time ever, Karma actually sees him. His gray eyes are resolute when he speaks. "To feel is to live and my life is yours to do with as you please."

There's a weight to the air as Karma processes his words. Maintaining eye contact, she reaches for his other hand and raises it to her chest. The point of his still held knife is pressed right above her heart. "You could kill me right now. You could kill me and run away. The maze is destroyed. You could run right for the exit and be free."

Karma is surprised again when her pet drops the knife, the blade clattering to the ground. "I know that I can never leave. You made sure of it." The wounded hand is offered again, blood slowly dripping through his fingers. "If I am to be perpetually tortured anyway, I might as well offer myself." His empty expression is briefly replaced by a wry smile. "I choose pain and purpose over death. As long as I'm here for you to hurt,you won't be alone."

The last of the cracks sealed themselves as Karma stared at him wide eyed. The spirals of her eyes moved slowly as they burned with tears. She could see herself reflected in those gray eyes: a small, hurt, lonely child.

"It's painful being lonely, isn't it."