A haze sifted through the air of her weary mind. The shutters of sight strained and defiant, and yet in this clouded slumber did she see again.
The echoes of clicking steel, the weighty pressure of the area, the empty white that blotted the senses; she could be no place else.
The Throne seemed ghostly, almost ethereal, with the lack of waging battle. Unnerving, the silence screamed at the trained ear, and only the ricochet of heels pierced it. Velvet could not fathom why her mind felt it necessary to torment her with that undeniable failure.
In its centre was the daemon placed, twisting amongst the spotless sheen of carved marble. If it had still beat in her chest, Velvet would only drown beneath waves of anguish with each pound of the blackened heart. No one remained with her here, alive nor dead.
Gold bore towards the insufferable throne that sat at the hall's end, and before it, did a crack settle. And from it, was a purple petaled flower; cupped as shrouding lavender amongst pure white accents. Velvet bit her lip in silence.
She did not will her body to move, and yet her coat swept stone nonetheless in its sway. The daemon knelt at the plant's resting place, the beautiful parlanis bright and healthy despite its invading roots. Her hand snaked to its base, the rough fingertips unintentionally harsh at the stem, almost like pressing flesh. The woman pulled, and off did the flower twist with a quiet snap.
Lightless hazel stared on, as the passionate lilac drained away. Legs shifting to a stand, the colour slipped further, head tilting as its purple washed away as paint. It's head fell completely with its voiceless suffering, blackened petals and dried stem like ash on skin. Velvet's face was dark and helpless in its grimace, the fruitless push of the flower's head leaving it only to sink back down without resistance.
"I... warned him," was the woman's bitter mumble. "I'm a monster, that idiot got himself killed." The golden eyes that stared down held the void, and her brows pulled to a glare. "That's just how it goes...!"
Her hand slammed to a fist, and the flower turned to cinders.
A passing chill glanced skin, barely smothered by the tattered garments, sending a howl across the throne. Velvet felt cold.
"How sentimental."
She whipped about with eyes strewn to a scouring glower. Silence. Legs flexed to a waiting pounce, the daemon stared across the vast chamber with waring wolfish eyes. Until, the voice finally registered in the addled mind, and Velvet halted in place; as did the world. Footsteps echoed from behind, with the mild buzz of a passing voltage; and the harsh stance fell. And yet, tension brewed with clenched teeth, and the daemoness denied a glance.
Yet it was unnecessary, for soon did the amble click past with a sweep of faded white, before the gilded pair aligned with a lone violet iris.
The scar was as fresh as it was hours ago now, and the ruined garb was matched only by the Lord of Calamity's own. A missing sleeve, marred skin, dirtied hair and a body that seemed only moments from crumbling; still did he smile.
Sarid winced with a blink.
"Hey, wolfy."
Velvet didn't say a word for what felt like minutes, simply gazing deep into the half-malak without a sound. As if trying to decipher a puzzle.
"...Are you real?"
He seemed to find humour in the standard demand, and passed only a cracking grin in response. Until, Sarid's head tilted down, and the smirk bent to a thin line. He seemed so, vulnerable. Colourless.
"I... just wanted to talk, before..."
His words fell. The Hunter trudged forward with a slight stumble, past the bewildered daemoness with an abrupt, dry cough. Her fingers twitched for but a moment as the hazel orbs trailed that crest. "...I wish I hated you, Velvet," the man spoke suddenly. "The anger, the pain, the sadness, every day felt like hell since I was ripped from that prison." He paused as he knelt at the base of the flower's ripped stem. "...Almost every day."
"...And?" she quietly snapped, "So what? What changed?"
Sarid's fingers softly settled against the cracked marble. "I did."
Velvet's arms crossed once more despite the various buds of emotion blooming within, as she carefully eyed the irritating mystery.
"With the help of a happy-go-lucky samurai, a headache-inducing witch, a cool and aloof pirate, an innocent and sweet young boy..." the Hunter rose up, the beaten attire masking what stood between his deformed fingers.
"...And a fearsome, flesh-hungry daemoness."
What hung clutched from the draconic fingertips, was the parlanis; unmarred and blooming bright.
The Lord of Calamity scoffed, rolling golden eyes with a flick of her hand. "You don't even know what you're talking about, half-breed." The woman shifted on one foot, glancing earthward. "Hate is all I deserve."
"Because you're a daemon?"
Velvet said nothing, only gazing up once more to the foolish ghost of a man.
"Then, should I instead thank whatever is left of the selfless sister inside?"
Her lips parted only for a moment, yet no words emerged. She stared Sarid down in silence, a shaky breath being all that passed.
"I was scared, Velvet." The man finally admitted, ambling slow and weary towards the still daemon. "Not of death, but failing. Fearing that every time my knife swayed away from piercing your back, I had failed someone else." He chuckled dryly, another cough crackling out. "Maybe I have. But now, my once pointless life stood for something. And even as simply being near you brought me closer to an early grave, I had the will to fight on for a ruined world. Even if it was at the side of bloodthirsty criminals."
Velvet's teeth tensed to a bare. "...You should have just forgotten me! Left when you had the chance, and live a life a fool like you deserves!" She almost felt as hopeless and angry as that night bathed in red moonlight.
Sarid stopped just before her now, face-to-face with manifested death defiant of her rage, eyes weighed by fatigue and hefty sin.
"Too late for that now, and if I was somehow given another chance, screw the consequences. No 'curse' would care for that boy like you do, and the only curse here is the world: no life lived here can be good. So, just carve your own path, and welcome whichever hell it takes you to."
The half-malak's gentle violet were faded and empty, but a spark still held on as he struggled to pull a faint smile.
"There's still a long way to go, but take care of yourself, and the boy. Life rarely gives second chances."
Her eyes widened ever so slightly in the hollow chamber light.
Sarid's hand trailed to the daemonic appendage wreathed in cloth, touch gentle, as if pressing delicate pelt. Until he placed the flower inside it with a grimace; like parting with a memory. Her palm closed upon it reflexively, its form strong in comparison to the plant's once frail stature.
Burning, was the heat that brimmed against the vile skin; breathing embers flaring from around the enclosed object. A building fire seared the insides of the smothered limb, like a river of magma as the throne shook, crumbling at its non-existent foundations. The daemon merely stared down at the feeble flower and its healthy violet: shifting strands masking hazel.
"This was my last and only chance to do something good."
The hand wound tight, closing the woman's fist hard about the flower, and held. The daemon failed to pull away, stunned into deep silence. The glinting ring fixed on the ivory skin of her middle finger hummed, almost blinking in harmony with the beat of a heart she thought hollow.
"And... I only wish I could have killed him, to spare you the walk." The underhand quip didn't go unnoticed, as the quiet contemptuous sigh passed with a breath, and she drove a pushing palm into the half-malak's chest. Stumbling back with a smile, the laugh came carrying a croak, and Sarid then wiped his pale, frowning lips as his voice fell hoarse; and blackened ivory hacked out to the ground. "...Even if you despised me for what I took."
Velvet gazed without a blink, a grimace pulling at her face as his head rose with a weary smile: stained red. She soon could catch sight of the throne behind right through his figure, and speckles of wafting sheen began to trail. Her boots made to step forth, but a single movement was all she could manage; as Sarid stepped away in response. His arm had already vanished into dust.
"I'm glad I met you, Velvet Crowe," he began, standing tall with the faintest of grins. "Eventually, I'll see you again, but... thank you. Thank you for giving this worthless idiot a chance."
The daemoness tried once more to speak, but only another lifeless breath blew betwixt lips. Her hand flinched, raising slightly. Barely anything was left now.
"Live well, while you still have the choice."
And the last glimpse she had seen, was the kind twinkle of his violet eye with the wave of two-fingers. Before the form was taken, by a sudden passing breeze. Reduced to glinting ash, just like the flower merely minutes before.
The hollow ringing of wind howled. Velvet was alone once more.
Silent and motionless, the woman's head sank low and expressionless. Her golden stare was lidded and void, while she looked upon the enclosed fist that heat welled. Velvet's jaw was tight, and her lip quivered with the harsh tension of teeth.
"Damn fool..."
The ravenette blinked, and in the place of the willful parlanis, was the final shape of a three-pronged kunai. It's edges burnt to a rough iridian, the dark reflection that looked back bore blazing eyes of a trembling aureate.
The haze of the dreadful dream began to flicker, a dainty candlelight in a biting storm, with the Lord of Calamity standing in its eye. Cinders sparked from the tears of cloth, and found solace in the darkness beneath. Where the daemon stayed, clutching the last battered remains, of a misguided heart that fought with the wolves.
A final, withered flower, alone in humanity's dying garden.