Chapter Text
“What do you hope to gain from that?” The Impenitent Devil, unwelcome at the Embassy and not without enemies, asked with the same casual severity that he approached everything. Like a bored schoolmaster with disappointing pupils. His host, a Bethnic scholar and devil sympathizer, may very well have been a disappointing pupil with the warm, waxy mark of a particular Affectionate Devil’s kiss upon their cheek. They set a tray between the threadbare couch and worn but not yet unsightly parlor chair, then sank into the broken cushions of said couch.
“Oh I don’t know.” A sigh. “Come now, Devil. I have surface honey. Sit. Join me.”
The devil quirked a brow.
“And why do you think surface honey would appeal to me?” Some time ago his not-pupil, this scholar, had come to understand that his tone was curious. Not judgmental. Their sheer obliviousness had carted their relationship along until one of their friends, actual friends, had pointed out how harsh he was. But by then, the scholar had grown used to him.
“I like honey, and I thought I would share. My uncle was a farmer, and he kept bees on his farm. They were important to the family. Sacred, if you will. Not unlike how the keepers treat their bees down here, but their honey wasn’t the important thing. It was how they kept his crops. Up above, the bees depended on my uncle as much as he depended on them, so they were family. Like an aloof cousin who rents land but doesn’t come to dinner.” They paused, acutely aware that they were sharing a part of themself that the devil before them likely wouldn’t value. But the devil’s lips tweaked into a small smile, and he took the seat across from them.
“And why share this with me and not your Affectionate Caller?” He’d had surface honey before, and he did like it. He liked it quite a bit. It was sweet and earthy and entirely unrelated to his past. The bees of the surface were innocent, stupid creatures. Their honey was the same.
“You know why,” the scholar murmured.
“Do I?”
“Because he doesn’t care.” They let out a heavy sigh and slumped into the couch. In an instant, their expression shifted from the pleasant smile of sharing something with a companion to one more befitting a person who hadn’t slept in days. Tired. Drained. Aching. The Impenitent Devil waited for them to elaborate.
“He’s not after me. He’s not after my companionship. He’s after my soul. He’d take this gift of honey as a sign that he’s closer to getting it, and I don’t intend to give it up.”
“And why not?” He sipped his tea, delighting in how overly sweet he had made it. “What does your soul matter to you?” He could see their soul. It was, well the quality depended on who wanted it. Few devils were genuine connoisseurs, and most of them only really cared about how brightly a soul burned. He didn’t have any interest in the soul before him. It was bright but otherwise unremarkable. A thousand variations that meant as little to him as the color of the scholar’s hair.
“Well, personal attachment aside, once I give it up, he won’t come back. And… I like being courted. I like the way he looks at me. Like… Like I’m something desirable. But more than that, I like him. Or I like being around him. I like going to shows with him, talking to him, listening to him. If he weren’t a devil, or, more accurately, if he weren’t just in this for my soul, then I’d be in a lot more danger.”
The Impenitent Devil felt a little sorry for the scholar. He didn’t feel anything for their Affectionate Devil, but devils, like humans, were social creatures, and the curse of belonging to such a species was the curse of forming connection. Compassion. Sympathy. Empathy. These were the words the humans had used when explaining why they cared about strangers and friends. Animals. Sometimes even objects. There were other terms, more specific terms, but none of these ideas were entirely alien to him.
“I can assure you that you are right. The moment that devil has your soul, he will leave without a second thought. He may think of your time together with affection, but you will not be worth pursuing. And if you hold on to your soul, as you are keen on doing, he will likely resent you. By now he likely feels owed. You want a long term friendship, and he wants your soul. Neither of you can give either of those, so why do you hold on?” No judgement. Simple curiosity.
There was a long silence as the scholar thought. Their eyes downcast, tea cooling in their hand.
“I will miss him. No--” they corrected themself then met the Impenitent Devil’s burning gaze. “I will miss how he treated me. I will miss how eagerly he chatted at the opera, how freely he spoke to me, how unabashedly excited he gets when we hit a topic he enjoys, but I will not miss him. I will never know if he was genuine or simply happy that he thought his conquest was--” their voice broke. They ducked their head down again as tears began to sting in the corners of their eyes. For a moment, they considered asking the Impenitent Devil to help them, but they batted the thought away like they might a moth.
“I trust you,” they said quietly. “In the same way I trust a rock. That’s what you are. A rock.” The devil raised a brow-- the other one from the time before. He waited. “You can trust that a rock won’t go out of its way to hurt you, and you can trust that it will hurt if you kick it, but a rock also doesn’t care. If a man comes at you with a knife, the rock won’t do anything. It’s just there. I would trust you in my house while I was asleep to not hurt me, but if a man came at me with a knife, I wouldn’t expect you to do anything but watch.” The devil blinked impassively. “I like you. I like talking to you. I like talking to you because you don’t try to comfort. You try to learn. You don’t lie. Or you do, but not where it matters.”
“And if you give a rock honey, what then?”
The scholar scoffed. “Then you get ants. But you’re taking my comparison too far.” They paused, their eyes falling on his hands and how he held his tea cup. “I’m not afraid of him, but… I think I am afraid.” They met the devil’s burning, hypnotic gaze. It wasn’t the same mind numbing gaze that the Affectionate Devil had, but was more like staring into a fire. “Would you be around, after I close that chapter? To talk like this?”
“If you invite me,” he said, slowly raising his still steaming cup to his lips. “Then I will be here.”
The scholar smiled, blinked, looked away, then met his gaze again. “Thank you.” They evidently hadn’t expected that, but the devil was not quite prepared to admit a growing affection for them himself.