Thread: Burning Passions [ Luciel x Ironic ]

After that fateful night, Samael opted to stay away from human pacts and resumed his usual role making temptations sweeter and giving more damned souls the power to sin even more. With the human race's extremely low capability to think rationally on most days, this wasn't a hard task to do. Once again, time held no meaning for him. He was back to his usual self, away from the petty emotions of a lowly race. Navaeh was just a distant memory of a time long gone. Until that familiar call came. Richard. It was a desperate cry for help, one which he'd gladly ignore, but being bound by blood and soul didn't allow him to. He had already ignored too much pleas over the years and this one is no longer something he can ignore. . . . Richard was a lot thinner than how he was when the pact was made. His belly bloated disproportionately and dark circles deeply surrounded his eyes. The side of Samael's lips twitched into a smile but it disappeared right before anyone else can notice. He was glad Richard looked defeated. He was on the ground, knees down, begging at his feet, sobbing as if he wasn't one of the biggest deceptors the world has ever known. Hell, he even got to deceive a high-ranking demon such as him. Take me. Take me now, Richard murmured almost incoherently in between sobs. Suicides won't work, human. Samael spat. I don't think I'll give you the easy way out. I want to watch you die a slow, painful death, before I give you to Lucifer. He felt Richard quiver slightly upon his words. You don't understand, Samael, He said. Samael only raised a brow. Oh? Do tell. What is it that I don't understand? She's gone, and it's all my fault. At this point, one of the greatest criminals and wealthiest bastards this sinful world has ever known embraced a demon's ankle and kissed his feet. You're disgracing me. I am not Him for a sinner like you to kiss my feet but I'll admit, this is a little entertaining. I am, after all, your God. Samael, you're not listening to me. She's gone and it's all my fault! Once more, his words drowned away in an uncontrollable sobbing. Tilting his head to the side, Samael wondered, for a brief moment, who on earth could he be talking about. The realization made his entire being run cold. Samael kicked Richard away hard enough for him to hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. What. Have you done. Richard coughed out blood upon impact and after one last spit, he looked up and met the burning eyes of the demon. Just take my soul and leave! You don't have much time! . . . At the distance, he saw her. Nearly lifeless on the floor, blood flowing down from her feminine parts. Her shoulders, dotted with dark marks and red ones, rose and fell slowly but the familiar energy of her soul still lingered. Three men were just about to finish and it didn't take long for them to shake out their manly fluids on her. One stood at the far end of the corner, videotaping the entire... whatever it was. One approached her limp body, spread her legs, and was ready to go at it again. That was when he appeared right in front of them with an appearance that's mostly demon and partially human. I am quite disappointed, he said, his voice deep, hallow, and unearthly, that no one invited me to this feast. I would want to partake. One could hear a pin drop from the sudden silence in the cabin. With his back turned from Navaeh, each step he took towards the men resulted to a step backwards from them. What the fuck are you?! One said. The other quickly zipped his pants back up and bolted towards the door, but it slammed shut along with all the windows in the cabin. Tsk tsk, said Samael. That's not a warm welcome. All I wanted was to have what you're having. I could have, long ago, and she could have had a much more pleasurable experience than this. He shook the thoughts away. Now, since you've all had your fun, why don't I have mine? Dude! Put that down! I can't! I fucking can't! Don't you dare pull that trigger you sonofabitch! One of the men had his gun aimed exactly at the gang leader yet his arm quivered so hard from attempting to put it down. Bang. Sonofabitch! You're a monster! Mr. Gun Man, now crying like a little girl, desperately tried to stop his own arm from aiming the gun at his own end. Bang. Two down, Samael said. Four to go. Who wants to go next? The last four ran around the small cabin like madmen, punching and knocking against every door and wall. Samael, without any interest, followed each one with his eyes. One scratched the wood so hard, his nails started to chip off and bleed. One took out a rosary - to hell with why he had one - and started praying. Samael killed him next. No fancy tricks, no anything, just a soft thud on the floor of a dead body falling down. Three more. He could make this entertaining for him and use them as his pawns for a killing freak show but the soft heaving of Navaeh behind him made him think twice. The girl has already gone through so much in one night, she need not see more. For the first time in a long, long time, he turned to her and covered her eyes with his claw-like hand. Hush now. Thud. Thud. Thud. . . . The small flat in New York is exactly how he, as Damian, lived in and left 10 years ago. He still used it as a place of sanctuary for years, especially on those times he felt blending in with the human race and seducing the women to satisfy his cravings yet despite the countless women he fucked with at this very room, all it reminds him of are the countless nights of studying and occasional horror movie marathons. Dusty and unkept for quite some time, Samael would have to make do with this unsuspecting location for the time-being. He dusted out the single bed he had and gently laid her there without daring to linger at her face and her features. All he can offer her at the moment was a cape which he used as a makeshift blanket to cover her naked, bruised, and used body. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew he should feel sorry. He should feel mad. He should feel guilt. But none of them lingered inside him as he touched her face. All he had was a hope he could erase the memories of the night, but that was a power he was never gifted to have. Lost in his thoughts, Samael fell asleep on the opposite end without changing his form into something more familiar.