Jackal/Kitty: I think I'm passing the book to Tempe?
Tempesta/Tempe: That's not how you start, it's supposed to be dark humor. But not too dark, Lamy.
Lamy/Bunny: Why me?!
Kitty: Oh yeah, that thing. I'm passing the book to someone who almost got executed over a cold
Tempe: Whoa
Kyôka/Koko: I'm passing the book to someone who is incapable of sleeping alone
Minerva: I'm passing the book to someone with a *working* immune system
Koko: It works just fine, it's all this filth in the air! *sulks in a corner while blowing her nose for the fourth time in five minutes*
Bunny: I'm passing boobs to someone who cries after sex
Kitty: They don't need to know that! I'm passing the book to someone who butchers everything with her fingers
Minerva: I'm passing the book to the token pillow princess
Sayla/Worm: I'm passing the book to someone who died more than all of us combined
Tempe: I'm passing the book to someone who lost to a cat and two kids in a span of 24 hours
Kitty: *red in the face, crying already* I'm passing the book to someone who can't even fight!
Bunny: I'm passing the book to someone who doesn't like kids but still cried over one
Kitty: LAMY!!
Tempe: See what I mean??
Minerva: *eye twitch* I'm passing the book to someone who let a random person cut her up for no reason
Bunny: I'm passing the book to someone who looks exactly like that random person
Minerva: I look nothing like her!!
Koko: I'm passing the book to someone who's about to lose her other ear
Bunny: At least I have my whole tailbone and my forehead intact!
Koko: Your forehead is huge. I'm passing the book to someone with a foul brat for a girlfriend
Tempe: I'm passing the book to someone who can take a full breath
Koko: IT. IS. TEMPORA— *coughing fit*
Tempesta: As temporary as your real arms?
Koko: As t-temporary *cough-cagh* as y-your human rights, you black bastard!
Tempe: I still have more rights than a woman with chicken feet and metal arms.
Kyôka: *chugs water* 3/5 is not equal to 2/3 you fool. I'm passing the book to someone with both eyes AND both ears
Kitty: We don't have human rights, we're fucking demons. Human wrongs!
Bunny: Shut up, white man!
Worm: This dialogue is worse than three fools in a Grayble...
Minerva: I am passing the book to someone who had her tongue cut out and still doesn't shut up about books
Worm: I'm passing the book to someone who can't finger herself anymore
Minerva: *cries quietly in a corner*
Kitty: I'm passing the book to someone who's going to lose the rest of her tongue if she doesn't shut the fuck up
Worm: I'm passing the book to someone who wrote with his own blood and dung
Kitty: I'm passing the book to someone who likes crusty finger nails up her—
Koko: *snatches the journal and smacks him over the head* I'm passing the book to someone who cut himself with a children's knife while making a sandwich
Tempe: It was Ezel's fault, okay! I'm passing the book to someone who, um...
Koko: The biggest exhibitionist! *shoots a look at Kyôka*
Koko: Oh, please. Your sex life is about as subtle as my yarn smuggling.
Kitty: *red in the face, still fucking crying over his deaths* Y-yeah, well... GET ON WITH THE CHAPTER ALREADY!
Koko: VICTORY! ;)
— ML
P.S.: In my defense, I was a littke tipsy and I thought it was kinda funny
Chapter Fourteen: March, Part Four
March 11, X792, 8:34p.m.
(no journal entries were recorded on this day)
Lamy and Elfine completed their mining work early with the help of Greg pulling some strings. Well, technically I rewrote a couple of memories to downsize their punishment to 30 hours. But as far as Lamy and Elfine are aware, the guards were just showing mercy for once.
Lamy and Elfine rarely speak to each other.
I sensed a lot of jealousy on Elfine's end. She is bitter that Lamy is so fortunate to have Jackal. Honestly, I'm surprised that elf is attracted to Jackal. He is crazy, and I do not say thst to be rude or funny. 0_ō
Tempesta believes I am a work of fiction. Sayla believes in me in the same sense that a devout Christian (Catholic? Baptist? Buddhist??) believes in the Son of a God. She cannot prove I exist but she is confident I will descend on the month of judgement (April) and take them to the promised land (out of prison). Jackal is just confused. Why did I leave? What was the final straw that broke me out of there? I couldn't write how that day went because I knew he woukd only blame himself.
Kyôka discovered more books in the underground library, but only told Sayla in case the books were found and confiscated for containing "too much information." I wonder, do they ever question where those books came from?
Lamy loves our drawings and misses Mollison. I miss her too. Wherever she may be, I don't think I'm allowed near that place.
I still visit from time to time, spying on their everyday activities. Kyôka was given permission to knit clothing in quarantine. She is still white as a ghost and feverish, but so much better with the herbs. I forget the name, but they stink of sulfur and taste just as foul. It's medicine, not a sweet treat, after all. It works best mixed with fire cider or another strong liquid.
Jackal takes more showers, having emerged from depression a little bit less dead inside. It's okay to feel dead, but one should not let it take over every aspect of their life if they can help it. Males and females cannot shower together, believe it or not. Tempesta writes songs and trashes most of them. What a shame, I kind of liked his third draft of "Virginity."
Sayla spends her time writing notes for the French speaking creatures. None of the guards can read it, surprisingly. Bird helps her as well. Elfine, Wendell, and Izumi stick to themselves. The author won't let me so much as summarize their backstories. If we know too much too soon, there will be nothing left for me to work with. Especially Naomi. I personally do not like how boring she is.
Curse this ADD. ADHD. Whatever it is. It's a mix of a questionable attention span, hyper fixations, slow short term memory, and endless thoughts of the same song for hours on end. Right now, I have the displeasure of "Sense of Wonder," by that J-pop group with too many members to count.
March 11, X792, 11:43 p.m.
Gloomy, grey moonlight of Black Qora poured through the barred window, painting a portion of the cell in rainy grey light. Lamy sat up in bed, looking outside with a blank stare. She busied her hands by brushing her fingers through her hair. Back then, it was all jet black, styled in a bob. But now, it was white, highlighted in silver and greige, just a little past her shoulders. Her bangs continued to grow as well.
Her drooping ears sometimes faintly heard the sounds of the old lab. Bubbling liquids inside of tanks, the unique texture of the tentacles that helped to power Hell's Core, Kyôka pacing impatiently, and even the rage in Ezel's voice moments before a certain disaster killed him one last time.
"That brat, that brat, that brat... revive me NOW!"
Ugh, I'm kind of glad he's gone, actually, she thought. Lamy shook her head, attempting to shake the memories away like dust. She swiped her hair behind her shoulders, dropping her head. Her hair still fell around her face, which made her frown deepen.
I should cut it, she thought, dropping back down in bed. She pulled her two blankets up to her chin, closing her eyes. That was the closest Lamy would get to actual sleep most of the time. Insomnia was chronic among the Tartaros demons, except Tempesta, oddly enough. He slept like a bear in the dead of winter. Well, at least he was a great actor if it wasn't true slumber. Lamy thought of his sleeping form with envy, yearning for just a few minutes of rest that rarely came anymore.
And so, all she had to think about was thoughts. She would fawn over her men. Remember burning flesh that melted off her face. Remember Mard striking the fear of the gods in her heart when she made mistakes. Thin blades that slowly dragged all over her skin, making cuts that scarred for several days. Remember how those same scars slowly vanished overnight.
Nina...
That retched name. That charming, repulsive, stolen face. Minerva would not hurt a fly, while this counterpart was a menace. Nina had vanished a while ago to who knows where. If only the memories went with her. Lamy felt so much shame recalling those meetings, allowing that sadist to sink her claws into her prey so effortlessly.
"You look so much better, bruised and bloody," Nina once said.
"I will make you mine, even if I have to hunt you to the edge of this land."
Lamy subconsciously winced at the phantom fingers stroking purpling skin along her collarbone, her knees, or her spine. She could not understand why Nina chose to target her. Why that creature took joy in inflicting pain. Lamy used to laugh in the faces of those tortured by Kyôka.
It was an entirely different reality on the other side. The fingers inside and all over her. The makeshift knife. The mind numbing blankness.
Lamy parted her lips slightly to breath, noticing her sinuses closing up. Her tired eyes opened to gaze at the miniscule light on the ceiling, seeing the fingerprints in the shadows.
Her cell door creaked, causing the bunny demon to jolt upwards out of her fake slumber. She watched the door through wide, alert eyes, clutching her blankets. Instinctively, she prepared to blank out. But her postur relaxed when Tempesta peered inside. His flat nosed twitched, sniffing. His expression was unreadable, even in the darkness.
"You haven't slept either, I see," he said, stepping in. He cringed slightly at the loud noise of the old cell door slowly shutting behind him. Lamy chuckled at his expression. A dark brown eye bore into her pale pink gaze.
"It's just a rusty door, nobody really cares," she whispered back. Tempesta approached her bed, crossing his arms. His broad shoulders were stiff. The male demon had no reason to tense up around Lamy. He climbed under her blankets, snuggling up close to her. She hurried to scoot over as he took up more room on the small bed.
"Tempe, are you o—whoa!" Lamy yelped in surprise when his arms pulled her down flat. He curled up in a fetal position, resting his head on her chest. Lamy glared at the ceiling, nearly squashed between a warm body and a cold, concrete wall. Part of her was delighted he came ti lay with her, but the other part was annoyed about the discomfort.
"T-Tempe, move over a little," Lamy grunted. She attempted to peel herself out of his arms. Tempesta responded by shifting himself up more, pulling her in close against his body in a spooning position. Tempesta was probably the only Tartaros demon who bothered strengthened his body. With fists that could easily crack a wall, he instead held Lamy hostage in his embrace.
"Stay with me," he mumbled tiredly. Lamy sighed in defeat, shifting her hips against his lower abdomen. He placed his outer leg on top of hers, rendering the bunny demon completely immobile. This was not unusual when they cuddled. Sometimes they would hold each other, he would hold her, or she would hold his head on her chest. Alas, it only led to something more that one time, after practically begging him to touch her. Lamy refused to initiate anything more as he almost never looked open to it. The thought of that made her pout at the wall.
He was only bold because Jackal was there...
Meanwhile, Tempesta kept thinking back to his meeting with Yuichi-sensei, drawing a blank every time he tried to write heartfelt lyrics in his head. He nuzzled his girlfriend's chest, breathing in the scent of dust and unscented bar soap.
Showered... this morning, he observed, exhaling the calming aroma. If someone managed to create a laundry detergent that smelled the same, he would buy all of it.
"Tired?" he asked groggily.
"I dunno," Lamy mumbled. "Insomnia sucks."
"Wanna trade? I hate sleeping my days away."
"Then stay up with me," the bunny demon replied with a slight chuckle.
Tempesta gave an indecisive hum. The lid of his left eye felt too heavy to keep open. He gently pressed his lips against her covered back.
The off-white clothing was hideous to him. Inmates looked like ghosts with no personality unless they changed their hair or made clothes from scratch.
Lamy's light hair blended with the pale fabrics like dove wings to rainy clouds. Tempesta drifted off into those cloudy skies, feeling the cotton, linen—whatever the hell the material was—along curves of soft fluff.
Lamy shifted, turning to face her boyfriend. He removed his leg as she did so. She grazed her palm on his cheek, looking into his sleep-glazed eye. That was when she noticed the zigzags of braids in place of his frizzy box braids. She loved every random style Kyôka came up with. He looked so cool every time.
"Did you do it yourself?" she asked softly.
Tempesta's outer hand traced along her waist to her ribs underneath her shirt, counting each bone he could find, completely drowning out the words she whispered in the breeze between (what was left of) his ears. Her eyes were pleasantly enchanging.
Blah, blah-self...
He snapped out of his waking dream when her hand pat his face.
"Hmm?" He refocused his eye attentively.
"Your hair, did you or Kyôka do it?" Lamy chuckled lightly.
"Oh, Koko," Tempesta replied.
Koko? Jackal's silly nicknames actually stuck?
"She's pretty good with her prosthetics. Not too tight or too loose. It smells like olive oil, though," she observed. She could bareky smell, but she could definitely taste the oil.
"I knew you'd like it," he smiled softly, then yawned. "Koko said oil keeps my scalp clean."
How they could still yawn or breathe without real hearts was a boring mystery he would rather solve later. Perhaps his perfect hearing without ears, Sayla and Lamy's perfect speech without proper tongues, or other quirks despite their limitations could be explained by that transmutation circle on the little black card. He hid it inside a slit in the bottom of his mattress, just in case.
Upon his closer inspection, the circle looked more like a snake eating itself around a triangle, and numerous symbols of a foreign language. It was not French, English, Potemelian, or even Kanaji. Whatever it was, uh...
Ugh, too tired to think...
"Tempe?"
Tempesta sighed, emerging from his slumber once again. "I'm up," he murmured. He did not remember his eye closing again. This time, he did not bother to reopen it.
"You know, I love you, right?"
"Of course, Bun."
Is that short for "bunny"? Jeez...
"You remember Nina, right?"
"We all do."
"Look, she, uh... t-the thing is, I sort of... I um... I just..." He'd never look at me the same...
"What's wrong?" Tempesta questioned, lifting his head. His worried gaze was far from comforting in that moment. Lamy squeezed her eyes shut, losing virtually all her confidence.
"I-it's nothing, I'm just a little tired," she mumbled.
"Oh... Whatever it is you're thinking, I'll love you the same," the male demon promised. Was it something to do with her odd expression when he walked in? The fearful look in her eyes was so brief, but he wasn't stupid. She thought it was someone else, right? I'll just stay with her until she feels better, like I do with Jackal.
He laid his head back down on her pillow this time, and rested his hand on her waist.
A song about something... her beautiful body, her calmness in the storm, something or other.
Tempesta opened his eye reluctantly, tracing his hand down to her hip. "Doll hips" was a term Earthland humans used to describe the shape of hip dips in women. Lamy always had the hips of a "doll," but rather frail.
I could tell her everything, but how?
"You need more food," he said. Nice one, idiot. Lamy raised a brow, puzzled by his random comment.
Alright, I get it! I'm skinny!
"What makes you say that?" she asked. Her breath hitched when his hands felt her hips underneath her shirt. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment. He smiled a little. Be bold. Distract her with something she likes.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I-I'm fine, I'm not sick," she whispered. He slowly, tenderly dragged his nails up and down the curve of her waist. His touch was so soft, ticklish and taunting. She squeezed her legs together, nervous about her physical reactions.
That feels... so good.
"Tempe," she whined meekly. Tempesta knew exactly what he was doing. He discovered completely by chance how hot her shyness was. He almost smirked at her flushed cheeks and trembling thighs. For moments like this, he grew his nails longer so that he could sharpen them. Now he had the claws from his old human passing form again.
.. She doesn't want this.
He removed his hands from under her shirt. She sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around her. A small part of her would have liked for it to continue, but it was just too soon to try again.
Tempesta was somewhat open to exploring her weaknesses. He found great pleasure in edging his partner. So far, he accomplished that with Lamy one time before Jackal joined. She opened herself to them both, but mostly Jackal. He always came first before him.
Maybe next time, he would put himself first.
He just had to make sure there would be a next time. Easy enough, right?
March 12, X792, 6:43 a.m.
The courtyard was nearly pitch dark, save for the few lights around the outside perimeter of the prison. A lukewarm breeze drifted through the air, washing over Wendell's buzzed head. His knuckles burned from the flesh exposed beneath his skin, dripping blood on the sandy dirt of the ground. He lifted his face to the black sky, eyes closed. Upon sniffing the air, he opened his eyes, darting around the area.
Under his slipper covered foot lied an unnamed, worthless inmate who tried to test the male demon's strength. As usual, Wendell knew best how to overpower boastful opponents. Several dozen were snuffed out after he dealt with them. The male beneath his foot was clearly unconscious, bleeding from his plump swollen face. His fingers were snapped like twigs as a result of a punch that struck the wrong target (the ground). It was obvious Wendell showed much more restraint than usual.
The weak individual breathed hoarsely through parted, busted lips. The tears in his squinted, purple eyes had stopped flowing minutes ago. The smell of the loser's blood was strong, but a different scent caught Wendell's attention.
He stared at the woman before him: Izumi, his only friend and mate in these walls. Her long, dark hair floated slightly in the wind. She crossed her arms, her deep orange eyes glaring in a silent scolding manner. Wendell stepped over the unconscious body, folding his hands behind his back. Izumi most likely knew his knuckkes were bloody again. He still thought it was best to hide the severity of the damage.
"How many more fights do you plan to end before you quit this nonsense?" she inquired. Wendell smiled coyly, scratching the back if his head. Thanks to genetics, he already felt the stinging, broken flesh ease into healing.
"Enough to keep you safe," he replied.
"We're not safe, we are behind walls, Wendell," she retorted. "The third set of walls, I might add."
"Walls with no cameras," he shrugged. Izumi scoffed.
"That does not mean you are justified in your violence!"
"They target me first, Izumi," he frowned. He cupped her face in both hands. She allowed him to lift her chin, stubbornly avoiding his faze. "As long as I remind these degenerates that they are beneath our kind, they will stay away from you as well."
"I don't like to see blood on you, it's... y-you know," she trailed off, meeting his gaze wearily. "There might not be another transfer if this goes on. You must be exhausted from all the fights, Wendell."
"For you, our boy, and," he paused to press his palms on her still growing belly. "For this one, I will do anything to keep you safe. That's what I've always fought for."
Izumi bumped her head on his chest. "Mmph... this will be the last time, and then you will keep your fists to yourself."
"But—"
"I am tired, Wendell," she frowned up at him. "Prison is no place for children. We were supposed to have an early release on good behavior."
"Two years instead of seven, I know," Wendell replied in an equally soft tone. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Eighteen months to go."
"Yes, as long as you stop acting foolish."
"Uh, excuse me."
The couple turned to the source of the shy voice. Sayla stepped out. She carried a journal in her arms. Wendell recognized the book that the clique of six demons shared. What did she want with them?
"Sayla, hello," Izumi waved with a half smile. She then looked away, remembering her rather embarrassing and desperate behavior from days prior. Wendell raised a brow at her mannerism. What did she do that for?
"You said this was your third transfer, right?" Sayla asked. The couple nodded in agreement. "Could you describe them to me? You see, I want to learn a little bit about this world to prepare for life on the outside."
"Your living here depends on why you were sent to this place," Wendell replied. "What was your sentence?"
"I wasn't given a particular sentence, unfortunately. My comrades and I came from another world entirely..."
"Another dimension," Izumi whispered to her mate. "They call it Earthland."
"Earthland? That sounds like lizard crap!" Wendell scoffed. "You mean to tell me a whole group of demons fell from a realm of Humans? I don't suppose money also grows on trees now."
"It's true," Sayla said. "We all died in some way, and we were captured then sent here. Please, tell me everything you think I should know about Purgatory."
The desperation in Sayla's voice was definitely evident to Izumi. She hummed in thought.
"Okay, we can educate. But in exchange—"
"I'll give you a sensory link to your infant," Sayla suggested. Izumi and Wendell stared in shock.
"Sensory... link?" Wendell whispered. "T-that's not possible. These walls at every prison are supposed to block all curse and magic power. How are you going to make anything link to my child?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Sayla looked away. Izumi placed her hands on her stomach, looking down.
"I will not share further information until you give me what I asked for first," the hornless demon glared at them. "I promise, I will pay you back equally."
"I accept. We will teach you about this land."
Wendell turned to his wife in bewilderment. "You believe in that Earthland jargon?"
"Of course I do, you idiot!" his mate shot back. "She will help me send my heart to our child no matter how far apart we are with a sensory link. We both know that our children will be taken. Don't you want them to feel our love for them, no matter what?"
"This chick can do that?" he asked, looking between Izumi and Sayla. Sayla held her journal tightly, meeting his gaze in all the seriousness she could muster.
Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Anything. Say anything, you stupid man, Sayla pleaded internally. A glimmer of a hope rose up inside when Wendell finally nodded in agreement.
"It's settled, knowledge for magic. I don't know how you even got away with it, but you'd better impress me."
After almost a decade since I started reading the Tataros Arc, and began this fanfiction, I finally watched the first episode of Tartaros Arc. I'm so devastated at how bad the animation studio failed my villain idols. 14 y/o me would have screamed in anger. :-)
— ML
P.S. March is long because, well, I said so *shrugs*