Thread: Burning Passions [ Luciel x Ironic ]

The words. Her gentle yet broken confession seeped deep into his human heart tugging its strings ever so slightly, but Samael, the real Samael, intervened with the fragile emotions. Still, he stood there and listened to every word she said. Oh, how he wished he heard this 10 years ago. How he wish he could have had that silly dinner, did stupid things with her, and maybe, just maybe, they would have had a better life. Him, her, Richard... everyone. He would have gladly became a human for her while still being a devil to that bastard who only thought about his godforsaken money. The warmth of her embrace enveloped every living cell in his body. Glancing down, he noticed some of the bruises on her forearm and the faded mark of what could have been tight ropes around her wrist. She no longer needed hell. She had gone through it, fought, and came back. But a pact... it had to be done. Without it, Navaeh was just some mortal he shouldn't be associated it. Then again, if a pact is made, there would be no lights at the end of the tunnel. There wouldn't be angels singing upon her arrival. There would be nothing but the fires of flames and sorrows fit for a foolish soul who was damned enough to seal a demon's contract. You never were really free, Samael echoed. He made no move to turn or even return the kind gesture. All your life, Navaeh, you needed so much protecting and none of it, not even I, could stop what happened. At the distance, the horizon was slowly losing its bright colors. Hell does not need an angel like you, He said. This time, he gingerly dropped her arms from his waist so that he can turn around to finally have a good look at her. She had marks all over her body, not all of them seen by the naked eye. He could still visualize the filth of those men all over her and just as the thoughts plauged his mind, the more conflicted he felt inside. She need him, but he... wasn't quite sure if he needed her. Somewhere inside him, he wanted her. He wanted to kiss that horrible night away and be there throughout her recovery but that would defy countless odds. Willingly giving herself up to a demon was almost as close as doing a pact and did he really dare to be that selfish? Still, as his eyes looked deep into her tearstained own, he knew the afterlife wasn't a concern. She was in hell now, in her own hell in which she cannot escape. He lifted up his hand and used the back of it to trace down her face. She had aged, even more so in the past 24 hours. But, God, how dare he make such a beautiful creation and make them cross paths? He no longer spoke. Instead, he took her hand and led her back to the car. It was another silent drive. 10 years were enough to make him forget how to be human again, but being his guardian, he know the stock knowledge would kick back in soon enough. . . . The small flat was already cleaned and polished. Samael, still in Damian's form, proceeded to heat up the convenience store meals he got earlier that day. He didn't speak much, except for the occasional times he'd ask her if she was alright. His words barely held emotion in them but, hopefully, she'd see he was trying his best. I don't know your preference for clothes now, he began as he took out all pieces of clothing, including the undergarments which he didn't seem to mind. One red dress remained disregarded in its own paper bag which he placed inside his closet. I just got some basics which you can use in the meantime. We can always go out and buy some more, he said. It was odd having to function with her around again, but the feeling... it wasn't so bad. In fact, he could get used to this once more. Damian moved from one corner of the flat to the other, trying to turn it back into a home with a woman in it, instead of a bachelor's pad of sorts where women would only stay for a night. In the fridge, he unloaded the fresh fruits and a box of orange juice. He then prepared the heated sandwiches on the table along with the glass of water and two of her medicines -- a pain-killer and another Plan B. Mostly, Samael moved around without paying much attention to her but he gave her the liberty to do whatever she wanted. She could rest, eat, watch TV, or tease him with his struggles to get things done, for all he cared. Well, umm... When nothing else was left to tinker with and all there was is to face the situation, Damian scratched the back of his head and tried to figure out another way to dodge any form of interaction. I'm pretty sure you're tired, or even hungry, so uhh... He shrugged and sheepishly pointed to the food on the table. It's funny how, just this morning, he added more to her misery. He didn't care about her emotions, her pains, and she seemed to be just a distant memory yet now she stood here, they were together again, and all he could do was to learn how to be more like Damian and less like Samael. With Navaeh, he no longer knew who the real him was. Without another word, he disappeared inside the bathroom and drowned his thoughts away with a nice shower. It took him about half an hour before emerging from it, wearing a checkered boxer shorts and a white shirt. He resumed his spot on his desk and fiddled with his smartphone once more.