Happy day after Valentine’s Day! I’m shamelessly using an image of a cake I made as the header for this post. The story is of a desperate sort of romantic nature so it’s semi-justified.
Today’s Warm-Up Wednesday is brought to you by a prompt generator and the usage of this prompt, specifically. I was pretty loosey-goosey with the details, picking and choosing what I liked from it and not having the intention to fully flesh this out. After all, I was mostly using it as an exercise to get ready to work on writing draft two of Paisley’s route in WDBM (which is going pretty darn well if I do say so myself).
Had simple rehabilitation been the idea from the start? She doesn’t think him that cold and calculating, but maybe she should.
The day her horns fall off and her teeth blunt is the day that he says he’s going to leave her. They’re in the foggy sanctuary of a cliffside isolated from both his kind and hers. It’s cold and dim, but with the occasional sparkling of sunlight peeks through the gray every so often.
She still has claws, though they resemble the sort of false nails that humans have affixed on purpose than they do the curved thorn-like weapons of a demon. They sink into the flesh in his forearm all the same. His own form is humanoid, too, for the moment, dark-skinned, body mostly disguised beneath his white robes. He’s the same height as her so she can press her face close to his without having to kneel or stand on her toes. It’s always felt comfortable, to be on equal footing, or to at least seem that way.
“Don’t leave me,” she begs, even though she promised that she would never, ever beg anyone ever again after her last humiliation from her master. “And don’t give me any of that ‘I’ll always be with you’ shit, either.”
Is this to be her reward for all of her “good behavior?”
His brown, almost-black eyes appear impassive, but she knows him well enough to see the tiniest of frowns on his face. “Would you rather I say nothing at all?”
“Of course not. I’d rather you say that you’ll stay with me.”
He sighs. “That would be dangerous for both of us and you know it.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. My master would—”
“And you think mine wouldn’t?” She snarls at him before remembering the effect is doubtless marred somewhat by her teeth no longer being knifepoints.
He sighs, closing his eyes, and tilts his head back. Her snarl ebbs. Even when he’s frustrated with her, her beloved is so handsome, so good. It scares her, sometimes, to think that a being so pure of heart and mind had lowered himself to being dirtied by her. But perhaps saying that she had been purified by him.
“One more night,” she pleads. “That’s all I ask.”
He opens his eyes again just to fix her with a dubious look. “I doubt that that will satisfy you. You wish for one more night’s worth of trying to convince me to stay.”
Is she so transparent?
“Maybe so,” she admits, then shifts tactics. “How are you to know that I won’t descend back into my old ways unless you see my complete transformation through? After all, I still have these.”
She looks down to her claws and where they sink into his unbroken skin. They’re not exactly the best case for her continued monstrosity, but they’re all that she has. The conflict in his eyes as she tries to sink them in further gives her some hope.