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"Another letter..."
At this point, the inquisitiveness in his tone had all but diminished and was replaced by soft tinges of annoyance. It happened again, was his thought. Every year.
Every. God. Damn. Year.
When he had much to do, one couldn't really expect him to weed through a needless pile of letters that weren't even really addressed to him. It may seem to be in name; however, he was more than sure that they weren’t.
See, during this time of year—children mostly— mistook him for someone else. Not that he was a vanity monster like his brother, but his features GREATLY varied from the person in question. In fact, apart from the letters of their name, they were worlds apart.
"No wonder humans have it tough and are always in a pinch, if they get minute details like these wrong EVERY time, then what more the major things in their lives?"
Then again, to the little ones, this was probably as major to them as their birthdays.
That's right. It was December which signified the coming of Christmas. Then again, even as early as Halloween, the pleas came rolling in. For some reason Hermes, a messenger from the Celestial realm, thought it funny to send him letters that he knew weren't his. Despite knowing that it actually belonged to a gentleman that went by the name Santa Claus, he still decided that every child-written note addressed to a certain "SATAN'' needed to go exactly to who the namesake suggested; to him...
...Satan.
The mild amusement he had for it at first had—over the years—turned to sour annoyance. And if he had to plough through another one of these spoiled brats' letters longer, he was going to—
"What's this?"
The budding signs of his wrath had been nipped when he came across one specific mail.
It wasn't as pretty as the rest. It had no envelope and it wasn't written in that fancy stationery that, if he had to admit, was quite of decent make. No. This one, while written in crayon like others, was crumpled and wrinkled. The crooked alphabet showed just how young the writer might have been. The edges were worn and had tiny rips. There were puncture marks made by pencils, most probably, and there were even stains of some kind that had already dried. Anyone who saw it would probably mistake it as something that belonged in a garbage can.
But Satan held onto it. Looking at it intently; in disbelief.
As different as it was in appearance, so was it in content.
While the others were asking Mr. Claus for toys and pet animals—and at least he thought that pet animals were reasonable—this one didn't.
"Hmn, I guess it won't hurt..." There was a semblance of well, something, in his tone. He couldn't really place what it was as he stood. It’s probably nothing, but still...there’s only ever one version of the truth. Instead of skimming through all these entitled requests, it was time for him to head out into the Human Realm. With one last glance at the crummy piece of paper, he stuck it between the pages of a book that he had been reading.
* * *
The Human world had surely changed since Satan’s last visit. Back then, they didn’t have all these modern conveniences. The lights, on snowy nights like these, weren’t as bright. In fact, most of the light back then came from the warm flames. Now, everything was pretty much a by-product of electricity; not that it was a bad thing.
There were many pleasant taken-for-granted things here in the Human world, humans, not being one of them though. He could understand why children would like pets, after all, he too was fond of animals...but if there was one fact that he refused, it was perhaps that one saying that humans were the highest form of animals. If they were that smart, how can they mistake Santa for Satan? Yes, it was a petty, little thought, but he really got aggravated over it. It was bad enough that he came from Lucifer, and now, brats mistook him for someone else.
Still…
His thoughts all but drifted to angering details, but decided to put it aside for now. He had a mission to accomplish before Lucifer got on his back for missing the House of Lamentation’s curfew. Not that he cared. In fact, maybe he’ll stay out later than usual just to spite him.
Still…
He came upon a home. Unlike the normal houses that were decorated with Christmas lights and decorations, this one was, as unappealing as it was, near a church. Actually, it was probably better to say that the church was inside a compound that housed a number of people. It was spacious, but definitely nothing similar to the House of Lamentation or anywhere in the Devildom.
He could hear the church bells sounding off, and the voice of women calling—actually, now that he thought about it, it seemed more like a chapel than a church, due to its size. Going back, Satan heard the sound of women calling, angelic tones that Asomdeus would probably find fun to seduce. These women, nuns, were calling for children.
“It’s time for supper, come inside now!” A brunette called out, waving for the kids to enter a small door that was kept open just for them. Satan could hear the bustling sound of children’s laughter, their footsteps as they ran along the snow covered path, eager for that promised dinner.
He was in an orphanage, it seems.
“Are--are--are you co-co-coming in-inside…?”
Blinking out of curiosity, Satan felt a tugging at the hem of his blazer. Instantly, his brows furrowed together, and he almost smacked the hand away, his hand already propped up to strike, when he saw that it was a child. One that already had her eyes closed, as if anticipating the hit; the pain. He felt his eye tic.
“I don’t think that’s possible.” He answered the kid simply lowering his hand to, this time; pry her fingers from his garb. Before he could, however, she had already released it and took a step back. Meekly, with her head hung, Satan could see that she was nodding her understanding.
While her hair was unkempt, it was a thick crown of ashy blonde, perhaps a color that was close to a browning shade rather than of golden strands. “Hey,” Satan started, which made the meek child look up. Onyx orbs, so pristine, so pure...
Can one blame him if he enjoyed that slight glimmer of fear upon those eyes? He was a demon, after all.
Porcelain skin, stained by what looked like—wait, what ARE those?
Satan couldn’t help but kneel down. When he tried to reach for the child’s face, she flinched and tried moving away, but the devil simply stared at her, stopping in his advance as if to establish that he was not going to harm her...unlike earlier. She too stilled herself, as if in silent understanding. What happened next was something that Satan himself couldn’t fully comprehend.
What he thought was some kind of dirt was apparently a bruise, the kind that kids don’t get by falling over or tripping. No wonder she recoils so instantly.
At the very least he didn’t understand why he was doing all this. Why for some reason the wrath that was normally under control-- and mind you, still was-- wanted to simply burst. He knew better though.
He simply smiled.
“So, fell down flat on your face, huh?”
To his inquiry she simply nodded, albeit with a tinge of her pink on her cheeks, thankful that he decided to let his imagination fill in the blanks. The little girl stared at the man intently, curiously even as he touched the bruise in the guise of gently wiping of “dirt”. She flinched a little, it was still painful, but she refused to cry over such things. Pretty. She thought. It was the first time she saw a foreigner, and a seemingly nice one at that. His hair was the color of sunflowers, as radiant as light. His hands were warm, like a crackling fireplace. The stranger’s eyes though were perhaps the prettiest of them all. It was the prettiest shade of green that she had seen, twinkling and glimmering like marbles even with such little light.
“Maus! Maus! Where are yo--oh, hello?”
The brunette from earlier came up to them with concern lingering in her expression. She almost but pulled the young girl, Maus, away from him. He understood. He was a stranger. It was nearing the holidays but that didn’t mean that the city became crime-free.
“Ah, I wasn’t going to do anything bad. I just saw her fall.” He explained to the pensive looking nun.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking of such a thing.”
Lies.
He wasn’t the devil for nothing. There were some things that were privy to him and he could tell if humans were being untruthful. One could say that it was like a fuel for demons like him, a human’s sense for malice.
“This might sound imposing, but would you like to join us for supper? As gratitude for what you’ve done for my little one.” The nun invited. This made Satan feel awkward. To be invited so easily into a home for such a simple thing…why were they so sentimental like this?
“I’m actually in a hurry—“ He was cut short by the sight of the little Maus peeking from behind the chapel woman. He groaned internally. Those wide, doe eyes that was asking him to stick around…and from his view of her at the moment…meek little thing…truly made him envision well, a mouse. Fuck this love for animals. “…but I guess it won’t hurt.”
And in an instant, the little Maus was beside herself with glee, although concealed. The semblance of excitement that could have been traced from her came from how she pulled at the stranger’s hand, gently, to lead him inside. The nun on the other hand simply shook her head; it wasn’t always that the little girl found attachments. That was to say, unlike the other kids; she was a little weird too.
* * *
Beel would love this.
The smell of freshly baked bread at night was truly amazing. The food on the orphanage’s table might not be flowing, but it was modest at least. Everything was freshly cooked, and one could smell the labor of love that went through its preparation. A buttery aroma filled the air, along with the irresistible scent of something that had been grilled. And true to his nose’s testament, meat that had been cooked and lightly charred lined everyone’s plates. There were sausages and eggs too, along with steamed vegetables and a warm soup of Minestrone. It was simple. It was great, and the children seemed to be happy about the food that’s on their plate. That alluringness of the fat and salt that had sizzled away in the kitchen, he could still get a whiff of it. Beel would be angry if he knew about this, and it’s not like he can keep it a secret from him either. The smell, he felt, had already clung onto his clothes. He’d have to stop by a shop or something in order to appease his brother or else he’ll never hear the end of it.
“I don’t think we’ve ever caught your name. I’m Sister Lucille.” Was the nun’s subtle way of asking for an introduction; and when she spoke, the children who had been sitting at their table paused and curiously took interest in their unlikely guest.
“It’s Sata—Santa. My name’s Santa.” While his smile was as pleasant as ever, there was no doubt that within his inner most being, he was seething with rage. Look at him, taking up the accursed name that got him in this conundrum to begin with.
The kids were all “Ooooooooh’s” and “Awwwwwwww’s” at the mention of his name. At this early stage in their lives, they only knew one Santa, and they began little impolite whispers that he wasn’t Santa, and that Santa was an old man in red with a white beard and a bunch of toys and a lot of reindeers.
“Now, now, children, settle down. That’s very impolite.” The sister chastised them, to which, in unison, they apologized. “You have to excuse them. They are quite excitable.”
“It’s fine. So, what’s the deal with Maus?” He asked, waving off the children’s insolence. It was, after all, nothing compared to Mammon’s.
“Have you taken a liking to her?”
“Wha—that’s not—“
“…because she seems to have taken a liking to you.” Satan almost scowled at the nun when she spoke with such distaste. A liking, to him—Satan…it was simply impossible to fathom; however, when Sister Lucille pointed to his left to prove a point, he glanced. Sitting there was little Maus, sneakily putting greens and carrots on Satan’s plate. When she was caught in her little act of mischief, she froze and withdrew to munching on her piece of bread…like a mouse. “Come now, Mauschen, we didn’t invite him as an excuse to eat things that you don’t like. You have to be more thankful for what’s on your plate.” To this, she nodded, but seemed to have scoffed as well. Children will always be children, finicky and hard to please.
“I apologize; she’s been a little awkward from day one.” The sister explained.
“I suppose I’d be too, if I was being bullied.” Satan whispered, much to the embarrassment of Lucille.
It had been quite a while when it began. Maus had been the type of child that was aloof. A child of only 6, she had been ill-cared for in her previous home. According to the police that knocked upon Lucille’s door one rainy afternoon, her parents had been involved in a life of drugs and violence, and often took it out on the child when things didn’t go smoothly. Luckily enough, there had been a bust operation at the slums downtown, and from there the little girl was rescued before the unspeakable transpired. So when she came to the orphanage she barely spoke, barely made friends…and when religion classes came involving talks about the devil, she had been quite sympathetic to its plight. That’s when it began, the bullying. Most people, you see, did not take kindly to things they didn’t understand.
It’s been 2 year since then.
Dinner had been quite on Lucille’s part, simply allowing their sharp guest and the children to eat in peace and merriment. She would often take glances at Maus, now 8, who kept giving Santa scraps of food she didn’t want to eat, all the while their guest being kind enough to oblige the girl’s innocent selfishness.
* * *
“You weren’t wrong about earlier.”
Now that dinner was over and most of the orphans went back to either playing or doing their daily tasks, Sister Lucille had invited Santa over to the little courtyard to talk about earlier. “We’ve pulled her from fights and we’ve warned the others to treat her better, but they still do things behind our backs.” There was a hint of disappointment on the nun’s face, obviously showing that things had been problematic even for her.
“What gets her into trouble anyway?” Santa asked his tone a little lost in thought and almost indifferent.
“Well…I’m sure you’re not surprised that this house works with the word of the Lord, our father, in mind. That little girl, has quite a broad perspective in terms of kindness…extending it to devils.” She explained. That for one caught his attention. A child who felt sorry for devils…while the thought is nice, we don't need her pity. “The other kids found it weird, and disliked it.”
“And that’s enough of an excuse to get her a beating from them too?” He asked further, expecting an unsavory answer. Humans were, for all intents and purposes, illogical creatures.
“People, you see, don’t take kindly to things they don’t understand. And children, can be more than overbearing than any when it comes to this truth. It doesn’t help that she doesn’t try to get along with others, although I don’t believe that I can blame her for that…she probably doesn’t trust a lot of us to begin with.” After being hurt, a child’s defense mechanism will work in ways that would allow them to avoid experiencing that same pain.
“However, she does seem to take kindly to you.” She veered the conversation to lighter matters.
“It was probably just because I helped her.” He lied. After all, he really didn’t do anything. “Although, if you plan to raise her and make her part of the convent, people won’t take kindly to a sister who fancies being friendly with demons.”
“How did you know that I planned on doing such a thing?”
“Just a hunch. You seemed to be the only one a little more caring about her situation.” Plus he saw how the other nuns looked at her. They were besmirched with malcontent. And they say demons weren’t in the service of their Father.
“She’s just a child though; she’ll eventually grow out of playing besties with the devil. Although, what kind of demon are we even talking about that she’d be in bad blood with the rest. Surely these kids had their own little imaginary friends too, and they don’t get smacked around for it.” How bad can it be, right?
“Satan.”
“Yes—huh, I mean, what?”
“She seems to like Satan.”
Oi, oi, oi. Wait a minute here. And wait a minute indeed. He was quite surprised and concerned at the same time. He looked at disbelief at Sister Lucille who had an even more…interesting expression. She didn’t look disgusted, at the very least. If at all, she seemed entertained about it more than anything. This devil woman. She actually enjoys this, doesn’t she?!
“Sometimes, when she sits alone, I see her writing letters, and they are all addressed to Satan.” She went on to explain that at first she thought that it was misspelled, thinking that they were for Santa, however the little girl often pouted and shook her head. “It’s adorable that she’d prefer to believe that even demons can be nice.”
“H-how absurd.” Santa spat, glancing to the side and folding his arms. Hearing all this was embarrassing, even for him, especially when a human was finding humor in all of this. If any of his brothers found out about this, they’ll never let him live in peace.
“I know that it must be harrowing, but what can you do? She is, as you say, just a child. With all the horrors that she had seen, allowing her this happiness should be allowed…is what I believe.”
“Even if it’s a demon?”
“The Morning Star was an angel too, before he fell into the abyss.”
Somehow, this angered him. “Are you saying that Satan and Lucifer are the same?!” And it was getting harder and harder to contain.
“I wouldn’t really know, but I don’t believe them to be too different. They’re both demons, and they probably think the same of humans, about being the same as every other person.” Satan was stilled by the sister’s words. In a way, she was not wrong, and that did help simmer him down. However, there was nothing in this world that could make him agree to him and Lucifer being the same. He wanted to make another rebuttal but he stopped. A ball had rolled over to where he was, colliding with his shoe. When he bent over to pick it up, he could see how worn it was. Not to mention, he also saw the mousy thing that owned it, hiding behind the bushes. I can see you, you know.
“Maybe she wants to say goodnight before the night ends.” Sister Lucille interjected. “I’ll leave the two of you for now, I’m sure it must be getting late for you as well, Santa.”
“Ah. You have my thanks, sister.”
When the woman finally walked away, the little girl called Maus approached the Satan who handed the ball back without much of a fuss.
“S-santa.” She began. “Are you…Santa?”
“Ahaha, t-that’s my name.” He begrudgingly laughed. He saw the child beam for the first time. See, what that nun was talking about must have been a misunderstanding. Maybe they thought she liked demons because Santa was wearing red and she mistook his name for his, like most of the children did. That had to be it. They were the one who misunderstood and caused this girl much grief.
He blinked though, when the girl began to fish something out of her pockets. What she presented to him next took him aback. He wondered if she knew what he held right there.
“Satan.” His eyes widened. Did she see through his bluff? Kids were far more sensitive to these things than adults were.
“To Satan. Santa will give this to Satan!” She beamed even more as if an excited child during Christmas morn.
Was he the one in the wrong then? Was he the one who didn’t want to believe in this impossibility?
“I picked this flower for Satan.” Now, she was getting talkative. “But Sister said that the mailman can’t give it to him.”
“Why would you even want to—“
“Because he gets bullied all the time! No one ever tries to understand Satan!” She fumed, stomping on the ground. Well, in a sense, she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t get bullied, but he just felt no one truly tried to understand him, and simply took Lucifer’s word for everything. “Please, to Satan!”
In the end, Satan was defeated by her childish selfishness and enthusiasm. “Fine, I’ll give this to Satan…but only if…” He paused for a moment, wondering about a bargain for the child. And then he looked at her again. What a pure thing she was. Realizing her fondness starved him, he wanted to eat her right then and there. …If you give me your soul. “…you promise to wash your hands.”
“I’m good at washing my hands!” And with that she handed the delicate flower to “Santa” who took it from her with care.
“Well, it’s getting late and Santa has to go. Be a good girl and keep your end of our deal, then go to sleep, you little mouse.” It was as if she was a different girl. Maus ran to the faucet near the courtyard and washed her hands like promised, making sure he was still there and that he saw. In the distance she even waved her drenched hands, freezing as it may have been only to brag her “goodness” at being able to fulfill the end of their promise. In a matter of seconds, she had fled back to the warmth of the orphanage, leaving him alone. Lucille had already made her subtle goodbye as well, and this time, it was his turn—Satan’s time to depart.
“Sister, you really shouldn’t plant Hellebore in places where children can reach them.”
Those were his final whispers to the empty courtyard.
* * *
Eight years would pass after that.
Satan refrained from returning to the Human realm unless the matter involved witches, or if it was truly necessary. And to make matters worse, Lucifer’s favorite, Diavolo had to implement this audacious sounding Exchange Program which involved select members of the Celestial and Human Realms to stay in the Devildom and study here at RAD. Just thinking about the possibility of having more work pitted against him was enough to make him seethe with annoyance. But well, what can they do? Apart from Belphie, no one voiced their displeasure…and even if that was the case, his younger brother even went ahead and became an exchange student in the human world. Talk about a change of heart.
Still, to have a human exchange student apart from Solomon…
Solomon was different from the rest of humanity. If at all, he was more a demon than human if qualifications were taken into consideration. He didn’t feel out of place. He felt like one of them, but to have another human apart from him living near, well, it sure was problematic. Sometimes, it made his mind drift to that mousy little girl from years ago. She’s probably all grown up now, probably already been brainwashed by that devil nun to enter convent too. He wasn’t too thrilled about the idea. If she hadn’t changed at all in these eight years, she’ll be treated badly.
He shook his head fervently. It was no time to be strolling through memory lane. It was that time of year again, and a year after that incident, he chased Hermes away, opting to never receive a letter from spoiled brats…ever again. He was tired of it, and knowing that pesky Celestial messenger, he wasn’t going to be giving up this year too.
I don’t want them, they aren’t even for me. He mused, annoyed, fiddling with the bookmark that had previously marked page 96 of the book he was reading.
“Oi, are you even paying attention?” In an instant, it felt like Satan would fly into a fit of rage when the bookmark had been thieved away from his fingers. The laminated thing was dangled right in front of him by the scummy second born, and whatever it was that Mammon was saying to mock it already fell on deaf ears.
“Return that to me or I’ll kill you!” Satan barked, snatching at it only to be met with emptiness. Mammon was fast, but Satan was able to flick at the edge which sent it flying off of his brother’s hand.
“Oi, seriously, to get mad at such a thing! I was only kidding, kidding! It ain’t worth anything anyway!” Mammon reasoned, being the superior judge of anything that was valuable.
“Santa?”
“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SANTA?!” All the rage that he felt at that moment exploded and he ended up releasing all that tension on the person that mistook him for Santa Claus again, but when he turned to the speaker he felt that, for a moment, hell froze over.
Was this déjà vu?
In front of him while he was in a striking pose, was a young girl of ashy blonde locks, more akin to brown than golden. She had her eyes closed, but with a hand extended containing the bookmark that was facing down. It looked like she was anticipating the hit; anticipating the pain.
“I would prefer if you didn’t scare the newest member of the House of Lamentation.” An unwelcomed voice chimed in.
He found a lump stuck in his throat for a moment, but recovered quickly enough to answer, “If it’ll cause you trouble, then maybe I should scare her a little more”.
He managed his usual sardonic grin, directed it at Lucifer who was behind the girl.
The girl who, up to now, held the bookmark firmly.
“Ah, thank you. I was out of line there. My stupid brother was making me angry.” Satan explained himself, taking the laminated piece of paper from her hand.
“It was my fault for having interfered when I shouldn’t have. Bad habit. Plus, it was my fault for mistaking you for someone that I met a long time ago.” She smiled so apologetically. To her, the demon before her evoked a sense of nostalgia. While all that she could recall were little details such as hair color, eye color, and a name; he seemed oddly familiar.
“Yeah, it was probably someone else.” He reasoned with her, hoping that the strange lass would press for answers no longer.
“Either way, had you been present at Diavolo’s introduction at the School Council room, you’d have met Yasha sooner.” Lucifer muttered, a hand pressed upon his chest as he did so. Satan on the other hand just furrowed his brow at him, before a realization came to hit him.
“Yasha?” Satan asked, bewildered.
“Mhn, is something wrong with my name?”
“N-nothing, nothing at all. It’s quite…nice.”
“Hnn…if you could just lie a little better...”
And then there was silence. Satan felt a vein pulse. Did this brat just show him sass?
“We’ve just met and you’re already trying to get under my skin by accusing me of lying?” He remarked, marching up front to stare the once meek girl down.
“I’ve met a lot of liars in my life.” She rebutted, onyx hues staring back up at those…nostalgic eyes. Green—no, it was bordering aquamarine—reminiscent of a sea colored marble.
“You’ve barely left being wet behind the ears, there’s not a lot to your life just yet. Beside, those were human liars, you little mouse.”
Yasha paused and looked at him.
“See, this is exactly what I mean. So for a demon, I was expecting a little more.”
All the other brothers in attendance, namely Mammon and Lucifer held in their laughter; the second born a little less since he ended up bellowing. It was rich, the new girl, picking a fight with the Avatar of Wrath himself. Lucifer on the other hand was quite impressed. To hold her own against Satan when he was angered…it was foolish, but entertaining. He remembered something in her profile when he first considered her, despite being quite meek, she apparently had…well, attitude problems.
As for Satan, well, he was seething with this humiliation. However, before he could do anything, Lucifer had already wheeled her away.
“I suppose you’re not so bad if you can give my brother a little trouble. Come, Yasha. I’ll be showing you to your room. The rest, you can ask Mammon.”
“HEY!” The fourth brother called out, but they were already gone.
“It’s Satan…don’t just go calling me other things…”
He muttered to himself whilst glancing down at the bookmark that he had flipped over.
‘Merry Christmas, Satan! - Yasha’
It read, along with a poorly drawn mouse and a lone Hellebore bloom pressed onto it.