The week that follows is pretty uneventful for it being in Hell. Her life on earth had been filled with training, exercising, disciplining, missions. And if she was not out killing she was busy planning, studying, observating. There was not a moment of peace for her mind. Here. Now. She could lay on her bed and stare up at the ceiling for an hour realizing there is literally nothing she was supposed to be doing. It felt lazy. For the first few days it was fine but now it feels lazy. Of Course it has not completely been uneventful as new revelations came to light. Like the clock in the middle of the city, the number 82 the countdown of the days when the extermination was prone to happen. A day when angels would descend and murder the residents of hell to prevent overpopulation. How nice. And of course that Charlie is actually the Princess of Hell, being the daughter of Lucifer himself. Fun stuff. She has revealed some stuff at times about herself as well. Mostly everyone knows now that she can give healing massages, Angel and Husker gladly making use of her skilled hands. Everyone knows of her Japanese heritage but also of her job as an assassin. Which had piqued Alastor's interest but she refused to tell more even if he kept probing.
And he does that a lot, probing. Invading her personal space. Stalking her. Every few hours asking if she has changed her mind about his proposal. She is so bored she might even say yes one day. Which she shouldn't. But perhaps she could. She sighs. She needs something to occupy herself with. To keep her blood pumping. Her mind sharp.
When she stands to walk down to the lobby to catch a movie with Angel, the whites of her wings catch her eyes. She flexes them, tests them, when an idea hits her.
"A what?"
"Your dojo?" Charlie looks at her with utter confusion. "A room where you exercise? Train?"
"Oh we don't do that, Feathers. You either have fallen strong or weak here." Angel chimes in from his position on the couch.
"I want to see if I can train my wings to actually become functional." Cattaleya insists, she has to try. If it works, then… Well, she doesn't know what she would do with them yet but it can always come in useful.
"I suppose you can use the ballroom. It is big enough for it though you just have to mind the instruments."
Cattaleya smiles gratefully and gives a small bow before darting off, almost bumping face first into the Radio demon's chest who had been standing once again imposingly close. "My dear, where are you off to in such a hurry in that…. Attire."
The way his eyes violate over her body makes her wonder if there is actually something wrong with it. Tight black leggins and a black sleeveless crop top, showing her stomach, lean abs and ribs. Perhaps he is just not fond of the bare feet. She gives him a sweet smile instead. "I think you already heard." She says before skipping to her left, taking Charlie by the hand to have her show the way and walking off.
"Hmmm, what a delightful skip in her step." He muses out loud, not having wished for a sassy reply on it.
"You better let her keep skipping Smiles. The way you have been hovering her is freaking everyone out."
"I have no idea what you are talking about." The Radio demon brushes off though he stops dead in his tracks at the arachnid's next words.
"Psht, fine. But do keep her hands unshattered. They feel way too good to miss out on."
The room suddenly seems to darken as static fills the air. Angel opens his eyes from his former relaxing position on the couch to see the Radio Demon looming over him, hands behind his back with murderous intent in his eyes. "Do you care to repeat that? Elaborate on how too good her hands feel to miss out on." The urge to rip through the filthy creature has never been greater.
"Wow calm down you freak!" Husker jumps in from behind the bar. "She gives massages! Some tai chi shit to help against pains and aches."
"And are you saying you have been on the receiving end of those massages, my fellow friend?"
Husker gulps, he now being on the receiving end of the Demon's maniacal stare. "Only my head! It makes my headaches disappear."
Angel gulps and pushes himself further into the couch as Alastor fixates his attention back on him and leans in closer. "How about you? What parts of you has she been touching?"
Angel feels sweat starting the form in the nape of his neck as he nervously braces himself for the repercussions he is about to face. "M-My back and shoulders mostly. My feet a few times. I-It's a big help getting the tension out after a long day of work."
Alastor's head snaps to an angle as his eyes turn into radio dials. "You are saying that you let her touch your skin after it had been filthied, salivated on and fucked thorroughly." The back of the cane connects forcefully with Angel's throat, pinning him to the couch and choking him. "Hmmm, I thought you liked the feeling of getting choked? Is this not to your usual satisfactions?" Alastor says with a sadistic grin as the arachnid sputters and claws at the cane to be released.
"Alastor, knock it off! She is not yours to control you sick fuck!" This appears to capture his attention and to their luck, he removes the cane, making Angel heap in large gulps of breath.
"Not yet, Husker. Not. Yet." The static significantly intensifies to ear shattering heights before it is suddenly gone, Alastor casually straightens his bow tie with his normal amount of grin as if nothing had just happened. "I can't help but come to the rescue of a charming dame when her virtues might be in compromise." He proclaims with a hand on his heart, acting like the prince on the rescue. "Look at the time fly, I should head out if I want to return on time for dinner preparations." And with that he struts off, mulling over multiple ways to make the arachnid's life even more of a hell. He was going to make it very clear to stay away from his darling bird.
In and out. Her breathing guides the rhythm of her body as it moves through her practiced exercises. This one in particular to warm up the muscles for more extensive training. It feels tranquil. Calming. Known. Her mind goes blank and her movements flow without thought. Giving space to concentration and focus. It feels good to have not lost this part of her. The part that actually enjoys what her body is capable of.
When her mind is centered, and her body readied, she decides to switch her focus to strengthening the muscles of her wings. She closes her eyes and begins testing, feeling where the tendrils and muscles of her wings run. Moving them in. Moving them out. Flexing them up. And flexing them down. To the front. And to the back. The control she has over them is not half as bad as expected. The tiny wings at her ankles follow the exact same movements. Though she wonders if those are more for stability when actually in the air. Not that she will soon notice. Because when she tries to flap them with strength, it feels like moving them through quick sand, it feels weak and sluggish. Not in the least powerful enough to move her up a single inch.
But that is fine. Start from zero. Struggle to a hundred. So she keeps repeating the movement. Focussing on keeping her entire posture still and only focusing on the weight of her wings.
Again and again and again till sweat drips down her spine and her breathing is labored. It has been a long time since physical exercise got her tired. Muscle sores are a certainty tomorrow.
She takes only a second to take a deeper breath before blanking her mind once more. Again and again and again.
Much to Alastor's dismay, when dinner is ready to be served and everyone else is seated, Cattaleya is nowhere in sight. "Help yourself, I will fetch our darling resident." Not all seem to care that much, too hungry to wait anyway, as Alastor snaps his fingers to short cut towards the ball room. "Oh Cattaleya~" Somehow, calling out her name sends a shiver over his tongue. He likes the taste of it. He opens the door slowly to go inside. "You are-"
His words are cut short as he lays his eyes on her in a very… Interesting position. She is in perfect balance, 'standing' on the tips of her fingers with her feet pointed up at the roof. Her wings slowly move, correcting herself, to keep herself up as a perfect pole. He can see her chest rise slowly up and down, eyes closed in concentration but her expression is serene. As if the impossibly difficult thing she is doing is nothing more than child's play.
She inhales deeply, moving to the flats of her hands, slowly bending her elbows and curving her back to softly land into an upward facing dog position. Sweat drips down the nape of her neck, the only physical telling of the strain on her body.
His treacherous eyes follow a single bead of sweat rolling from her cheek to her neck and down between her chest, disappearing in her top. He can feel his own neck heating up. She switches her position into a downward dog, stretching her wings to the side. Once she is done, she moves to her knees, her eyes still closed. Breathing in and out to finish the final part of her exercise routine. She finally speaks up, knowing he had been there the moment he arrived in front of the door. "A dojo is like your kitchen, Alastor." She opens her eyes to look at him, a look he has not seen before in her bright blue eyes. "I insist no one wanders in while I steady and iron my body and soul."
A shiver rakes through him. For reasons he does not understand.
"Dinner is on the table." Is the only thing he could come up with to say, as if needing an excuse to have wandered in on her training.
"Hmm. I guess I miscalculated by a few minutes." She stands with a grace uncommon for anyone else except for the martially trained. "May I have a few more to change my garments?" She asks, not expecting him to say no though as she is practically drenched in sweat.
He can only nod and she bows in gratitude before striding past him, not even giving a second glance as her mind was still far away.
Disciplined. Focused. Hollow. The ice of an assassin's eyes
That is what Alastor had seen in them. The realization that her job as assassin was not some half assed title she had given herself.
Cattaleya seems back to her usual as she joins them all at the dining table. Eyes present and soft smile on her face. Starvingly, while trying not to look starved, she eagerly digs into the pasta. Glad to have something solid in her famished body. She has probably burned more calories and used much more energy than anticipated. She needs to learn how to pace her body in this form a bit more because she believes her wings take alot more strength in controlling them than expected beforehand.
In the corner of her eye she notices Angel discomfort, rubbing his shoulder and making a face while using his other arm to eat. "Angel, are you alright?"
His eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights and tries to laugh it off. "Oh nothing to ruffle your feathers about, Feathers."
Cattaleya doesn't really buy it though. "Are you sure? I can easily help if your shoulders are tense again."
As if burned by fire he shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him. "Truly, it's fine. No need to do anything. Besides I think you have tired yourself out enough today right?"
She knows he is hiding something, she feels it, can tell by the way he is nervously diverting his eyes. But she does not push it. Angel can from time to time be more private with his affairs she has noticed. What she did not notice was Alastor's luring warning gaze at Angeldust which had him pushing himself deeper into his chair.
"Will you be joining usss tonight for movies, Cattaleya?" Sir Pentious asks with a toothy smile, wishing she would. Cattaleya has to admit she has gotten quite fond of the former wanna be villain. She has seen true evil and malice many times before to recognize when there is none in a being.
She smiles apologetically. "I have to decline. I may have over extended my body's limits today so a hot shower and an early night's rest would do me good. I do promise to join the next time."
After dinner she wishes everyone a good night and goes upstairs into her room. Her body complains already as she strips herself bare once more, stepping into a well deserved hot shower. It helps immediately release some coiling stress from exhausting her muscles. Yes, tomorrow she will have to be kinder to herself.
You can't be kind to yourself. You have to push further. Harder. Be relentless on your body, mind and soul
She squints her eyes shut, hearing his voice loud and clear as if he is standing behind her. Whipping those words into her being. But he is gone. And she is doing this because of free will. Not because she has to. Never because she has to again.
"I wanted this. This is my body now. My choices."
She whispers to herself as she lets the water lull her into trance.
Again.
That is what he always tells me. Nomatter if I do well. Nomatter if I do bad. It is always not enough. Never enough. Not fast enough. Not strong enough. Not clean enough. Not focused enough. Not sharp enough. Always improving. Never faltering. Never stopping.
Again.
That is what I tell myself when I stand in only my underwear on the stone ground of the mountain training facility in the biting winter cold. My arms at shoulder height. Never allowed to let them lower for a millimeter. For hours. For hours I am holding them up, my feet and fingers numb from the cold. My sweat frozen to me. As I keep my mouth clenched and breathing steady. Huffing out a breath each time my arms get struck with the bamboo swords. Never faltering. Never making a sound besides breathing. Never flinching or else I have to do it again. Start over again.
Again
Another punch. And another. And another. Strike at the exact same place. The exact same speed. The exact same technique. The wood denting. Chipping away slowly. My skin sticking to the wood. Blood fresh and new. My knuckles bleeding. But I don't bleed. Only my skin does. My skin doesn't matter. Blood doesn't matter. A broken finger doesn't matter. Just another punch. That matters.
Again
Don't breathe. Don't think about breathing. When you do, your lungs will desire it. Crave for it. Deny your lungs. Mind over body. There is no air around. So there is no need to try. Just calm your heart. Deny your lungs. Ignore your lungs. I gulp in the air once I am let up from the waters. Wrong. Again. Drowning again. But in silence.
Again
Arts is a form of distraction. A form of allurance. A weapon to be wielded to get close to a desired target if necessary. And I enjoyed it. Enjoyed the erhu. Enjoyed the violin. Enjoyed the guitar. Enjoyed singing. I enjoyed the pain in my finger tips. I enjoyed the stains of blood on the wood. Long hard work. I enjoyed the feeling of my throat rasping till raw. Till I hit a wrong tune. I did not enjoy doing it again and again and again.
Again
I walk over burning rocks with my bare with while carrying a rock on my neck
Again
I load and unload the gun not fast enough for the 785th time in a row.
Again
My footwork was off by 3 centimeters to the right
Again
The whip comes down my back-
Again
The knife cuts the letters-
Again
The robes around my hands don't come lose as the water swallow-
Again again again again again
Cattaleya awakes with a startled and bewildered gasp, sweat once more dripping down her entire body. This time induced by nightmares of her past. Her chest is heaving in an unsteady rhythm. Her whole body on alert. Itching. Aching. To move. She has to move. She has no choice. She has to do it again.
With a fleeting almost running pace, she goes back to the ballroom. But there is nothing there. Nothing to practice with. Staff. She needs a staff. She hasn't been practicing with a staff. The cleaning clothed. Urgently she goes down into the lobby to the door that houses the cleaning equipment. Quickly she spots a broom and breaks the end off of it. Good. This will do.
She hurries back to the ballroom where she begins to train. Swinging the stick like a naginata. Doing the same steps over and over again and again and again. Fighting some invisible enemies for only her eyes to see. Never disappearing.
She is not the only resident of the hotel that is awake though. Alastor sits in his lounge chair, leg swung over the other as his insomnia was keeping him up again. Enjoying a night of silence and an old french novel. He sips from his strong drink when one of his shadows comes over his shoulder to whisper. His ear perks up a bit. Oh? His darling bird is fluttering through the hallways? Shouldn't she know that she could find herself in an compromising dangerous situation wandering the halls in the dead of night? His grin curls upwards in mischief. Perhaps he should kindly remind her.
He grabs his tailcoat and puts it on before sauntering down the hallways with a happy hum to go find her.
The shadows lead the way towards the ballroom where he would find her. Of course that day she had requested him not to bother him while in practice but he is certain these circumstances are different as they are to simply look out for her safety.
His clawed hand wraps around the handle and he opens the door slowly. No light inside, his eyes seeing perfectly in the dark. He could hear her move as well. Her feet. Her breathing. A whooshing sound of something bigger. When his eyes adjust more, he can see she is using a stick, using it with a precision and speed that would be terribly deadly if it had been anything other than a… Broomstick?
"Cattaleya, my dear, don't you think you have done enough training for today?" She doesn't listen, ignores him, as she continues as if he is not there. His eyebrow twitches, not liking being ignored. "I might even have to restrain you to stop you from over exhausting your body? I will gladly do it if that is what is required!" He tries again, louder, as he steps forward. But again, no reaction. His grin turns strained. "Really dear. This is becoming openly rude-"
That is when he catches her eyes. Eyes that are worlds away. Seeing and living in a different realm. It is not like before where he could see her behind the veil. This is a fortress she is behind. Her mind and soul not present. Only her body moving on automatic pilot. Having done this probably a million times over. His smile strains now in a different way as his eyes soften in something akin to worry.
"Cattaleya?" No response. "Cattaleya." The urgency in his voice rises as he walks closer. "Cat-" Only when he grasps her wrist, is when she becomes aware of his presence. Which he will regret in an instant. She swings the broomstick into one hand and drops down onto her knees, pulling him down slightly before connecting the back of the stick under his chin, making him lose his grip. With a mighty swing now with both hands, she knocks his feet out from under him. He lets out a huff as he lands on his back, Cattaleya already on top of him, ready to stab him with the sharp edged side of the stick in his chest. Hollow eyes staring through him. Empty of sorrow. Of joy. Of anything. No hesitation when she lifts the broom higher above her head, stabbing down- "CATTALEYA!" His Radio static screech pulls her out of her trance. Her eyes wide and wild as the tip of the wood draws a few drops of blood where it connects with his throat.
The wood clatters and echoes on the marble floor, her hands frozen and open as she visibly tries to piece together what she had been doing. A sudden wave of nausea has her jumping up and running to the balcony door. Just in time she opens it and leans over the railing, heaving up the contents left in her stomach. Her legs are shaking as she desperately holds herself up. Tears she is not actively crying roll down her cheeks as her hyperventilating has her vision hazy.
A hand on her shoulder has her wiping around, pushing herself back against the railing, before she realizes it's Alastor. Smiling in the most uncomfortable way she has ever seen from him. A tiny trickle of blood visible. "I-I-I-" Her legs give out, landing roughly on her knees. Alastor follows her down, sitting in front of her on knees as well. She doesn't know what happened. All she knows is that that nightmare must have triggered her. Triggered her hard. And all she could do was again. And again. Like he has told her. She looks down, hands clasped together as if they might start moving on their own again. How could he still have such control over her?
Meanwhile, Alastor is having an internal conflict on his own. He wanted her to break. To be at his utter mercy. But not like this. This way of her breaking… He does not like it. It leaves him feeling uneasy. Uncertain what to do. His mind tells him to provoke her. Mock her. See what she might spill when pushed. But he can't do it. Not when his whole body is screaming to touch her. To console her. Never has he felt the disgusting urge to console another being. Or touch one without knowing the result would be aggravation or blood.
So instead he does something in between.
Recognizing the scent, Cattaleya slowly looks up from her clenching hands, to see the steaming cup of matcha tea in Alastor's. A smile wobbles upward as she reaches out and slowly accepts the cup. For this moment,deciding to forget that he is an Overlord of Hell. Instead, he is Alastor, offering a cup of tea after seeing her meltdown. Not understanding but giving silent support.
He moves to sit next to her instead of infront of her, his legs stretching out long and leans back against the railing. "May I ask dear-" Her lips thin awaiting the question. "- did you destroy Nifty's broom to use as a makeshift weapon?"
Out of all the things he could have asked her, that was rather unexpected. It caught her off guard. Even so much that she starts chuckling, which turns into loud unfiltered laughter. His own literally unfiltered laugher follows. When they quiet down there is a small smile playing on both their lips. "She is not going to be happy about that, is she?" She asks softly.
"Not at all. I could be a gentleman and do a snap, replacing it just like that. But I do want to see the storm that might occur if I don't."
"Still a sadist."
"One can be a sadist and a gentleman at the same time."
"And you do it so well."
They share another chuckle at their light bantering and turn their heads simultaneously to each other, only then noticing how close they are sitting. Shoulder to shoulder. Alastor's cheeks redden at the realization of their proximity but Cattaleya's smile only softens. Eyes that do see observing his features. Once again she thinks even if his features might be considered scary, he does not… Feel scary. Not to her anyways. On the contrary. His features she considers even handsome in a way. And he has been nothing but kind, even if at times a bit of a slight pestering nuisance at times. But still not to levels considered maddening. She wonders how he looked like when he had been alive though. Perhaps she doesn't even want to know.
While she is staring at him with musings on her mind, his is screaming to stay calm. Not knowing why his cheeks were flaring and resisting the urge to duck backwards. Because she is too close. And he doesn't mind. But he does. It's complicated!
"Alastor,-" His ears perk up. "- I have been warned to not trust anything you do. And honestly, I am tired of having to constantly seize people up. Discovering what their intentions are. Never having a friend but a foe in everyone. And if you are doing this to truly hunt you might not answer but…" Her words slowly become softer as her smile disappears into something more tired. "Are you being kind to me because of ulterior motives? Are you just… Hunting for fun?"
Her question is so raw, so honest, so daring, that the all witty all knowing what to say Radio Demon is rendered speechless. She has hardly been here a week and she is proving to be the most complicated, pure and invigorating creature he has ever met in life and afterlife. He wanted her to be his. His alone. All of it. Her light glares when provoking her. Her knowing jab of words when he tries to lure her into a direction which she sees right through. Her honest interest in his tales. Her genuine smiles when she delights in the foods he gives her. He wanted it all for himself. He wonders though how it would change if she truly became prey. Truly broken.
"Because if you are, I'd rather have you hunt me with claws and teeth instead of buttered words and actions. I don't have the energy to navigate my way through two sides of you."
He can't do it. Looking in her eyes. He can't tell her the truth. But he can't lie either. She sees it. She smiles ruefully before she stands. Her movement makes him shoot upwards as well, the smallest of smiles he is carrying struggling to stay up. "I'll see your answer in the morning then. Thank you for…" She holds up the cup. "And sorry for…" She taps her own throat before turning and walking off, leaving an utterly distraught and confused Overlord behind.
Secrets revealing themselfs, the past coming to haunt our dear Cattaleya for the first time. And tensions rising between the future loverbirds! Cattaleya telling him straightforwardly to just attack her if that is what he is planning to do. The joy! Leave a review and see you next chapter 3