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The disruption came sudden, awaking Dantes from his rather pitiful sleep and thrusting him back into the early morning darkness. The cross at his side, still an uncomfortable weight if you asked him, does nothing to prevent him cursing the Lord's name under his breath. Honey colored eyes squint into the darkness, thoroughly searching for any signs of movement. But no, his room and everything in it is still and untouched by anything more than air and the minimal amount of sunshine from outside. The light snoring from the next room down is drowned out by occasion scuffling elsewhere in the monastery.
Probably rats or some stray animal, his rational mind decides, though he finds himself standing to investigate regardless. A hand pushes back tussled ashen hair and his face is set in a special breed of neutrality, eyes darting about in a post-wake haze as he slips a robe on over his night wear and shuffles into decent shoes.
Something out there is calling to him, be it the Lord (though he doubts his cynical mind is worth the lords gracious presence) or just a trapped animal, and that is enough to coax him outside. He weaves his way through the monastery, beyond the small garden is the Abbey, standing tall and judging his every step, beyond that is the rolling hills of the French countryside, where he once wrestled with other boys and slept under the stars. Memories as distance as those hills. In comparison to that freedom the monastery feels all too small. Of course it was either the confines of the Lord's House or maison de fous and he'd rather a church than bedlam.
He treads light on the stairs, pleased with his decision to don slippers rather than his usual shoes, though he can feel the cool stone in the soles of his feet. He slides the grate back and bites his tongue as the old door opens with a creak that seems both too loud and too long. Fresh, clean air hits his nose and he breathes in, deep. The filling of his lungs can only briefly distract him, once more that scuttling is heard, far louder now. And originating from the gated garden. Strange.
As Dantes approaches he prepares himself for the worst, maybe in a tragic force of nature a bear lay beyond that gate. He is no position to fight a human much less a bear. Luckily for him, the disturbance is nothing more than a fox. It's rather small, the moonlight against its fur shows a deep, burnt umber speckled with white and black dots, unusually, its eyes shine a gold far too bright to be natural. One of its hind legs is caught in the traps scattered around the parameter and as he nears to attempt to free it, the creature (understandably so) snarls at him.
" Yes, yes, I understand. I don't mean to harm you any further, let me get you free. "
The fox stares for a moment, then tilts its head away almost as if it understood his words. A soft sigh passes his lips and Dantes works to fulfill his words. Nimble fingers gently leverage a gap between the creatures legs and the trap, allowing him to slide it quickly and carefully off. A deep, red wound lies in its place and he can't help but frown as the poor thing limps.
" No, no. Stay there little one, let me get something to treat that. "
He likely looks like a lunatic, speaking to a fox like it were human. But nobody is around to witness it, so he hopes he can avoid a further influx of stares from any of the gentry once daylight breaks. He leaves the fox where it sits and tosses the stupid trap away, heading to the shed to retrieve some supplies. He lists off things in his head: bandages, ointment, something else and something else.
But when he returns, the fox is gone. He frowns, was he dreaming? Or was he just some sort of fool? What in his right mind had convinced him a damn wild animal would stick around.
" Don't look so distraught you'll make me feel guilty… "
The soft voice behind him makes Dantes hair stand up. He spins around towards the source of the words, fearing he had been discovered, no, what he now faced is a young man with dark skin and long white hair. He is scantily dressed, donning simple white robes with red stripes of fabric here and there, barefoot and hovering just above the ground. Golden eyes shine to match the gentle smile on his face. Dantes may have thought he was an angel, but the large, curved horns and the bat-like wings say otherwise. Yet he can't help but stare.
" Ah… Please you're making me bashful-- " The stranger chuckles, scratching his cheek with a clawed finger.
" I suppose it's your first time seeing someone of my species, hm? I didn't mean to alarm you. "
" Actually, I'm curious as to how you are able to reside in the lands of God more so than anything. You are… A demon, are you not? "
Dantes' bluntness visibly throws the being off, but he laughs again and waves his hand dismissively, pulling waves of material with the flick of his wrist.
" Humans seem to have that misconception a lot, however, no, we demons are not hindered by your prayers, or your parishes. I personally find them beautiful to observe under a human guise."
" Oh, right. Yes. Thank you for the help, Father. "
Dantes blinks. Help? Oh---.
" You… You were the fox. "
" Quick, aren't you? Yes, I was. I was dreading being found truthfully, but I am indebted to you, Father. "
The word feels wrong. Hearing it is heavy in Dantes' chest. He promptly shakes his head.
" I'm.. not a priest, or a monk. I'd prefer you call me Dantes, or Edmond, rather than a title that does not suit me. "
" Then I suppose you may call me Amakusa. "
Amakusa, certainly not a european name, Dantes notes in the back of his mind, but far nicer than he would like to admit. He nods, the name ringing in his memory.
" A demon from the East? "
" Well. It's the name I had in life, I'd be a fool to let it leave me just because I am no longer human. "
He feels like a child, but he is far too awe struck not to ask. He wonders if it is offensive to do so, then laughs at himself.
" And what sins did you commit to be as you are now? "
Amakusa arches a brow, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. Leaning closer he traces the lines of Dantes' jaw with a finger and his thumb.
" Grievous sins. "
He doesn't like the warmth in his cheeks, so he brushes the demons hands away and attempts to regain his composure. When Amakusa laughs, his face becomes an uncharacteristic crimson.
" No no, do not worry. I'm not here to tempt a virtuous man like yourself into any kind of sin. "
Although the young man doesn't consider himself worthy of such a word, he doesn't argue. With a casual shrug Dantes takes a seat on the fountain. A grand figure of Mary is its centerpiece, its hollow eyes bother him even now.
" I'm not worried. For all I know I'm still asleep, who says I'll remember this encounter when dawn comes. Dreams are the only realm in which I am not a man with responsibilities and expectations on my shoulders. "
The demon frowns, setting his feet on the ground to sit beside him. Those large wings fold against his back and as he hunches, hair spills over his shoulders in a way Dantes shouldn't find attractive.
" You doubt I'm real then? I haven't thought myself a demon capable of manipulating the minds of humans ---"
" How would you know, unless you tried? "
" Aha.. I have no interest in things like that. If I wanted to manipulate you I wouldn't be sat having a civil conversation with you. "
It was Dantes' turn to chuckle, the sound rumbles deep in his throat, he cracks a smile.
" True, but this could all be a well thought out act, or you're improvising now that my guard is up. "
" You're certainly far smarter than other holy men I've met in my time. "
" Yes well. I'm not here by my own will. This or the madhouse, or worse. Frankly, I wouldn't mind if this were a dream, perhaps I'd wake in a better mood. Even if the reason why alludes me."
The sun begins to rise on the horizon, red and yellow spills across the sky and dyes the clouds pink. Dantes should return to the monastery before the others awoke.
" Hm. But strangely, I do not wish to forget you. " He says.
" May I perhaps give you reason to remember me then? " Amakusa chimes.
Dantes gazes at him. The demon sitting beside him smiles, leans closer and presses his lips ever so gently against the edge of Dantes' mouth.
It's only brief contact, so brief it might've been the breeze. Dantes swallows down the scent of succulents and rosemary and wills himself not to blush.
" There, perhaps now I will stick in your memory. For now, though, you must be going, mustn't you? "
Amakusa stands, once more his body hovers above the ground, toes nipped by longer strands of grass.
" Will I see you again? Mon chéri renard? "
The demon turns to him and smiles.
" Maybe in your dreams. "