Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Next!” an irritating voice with a slight British accent calls out. Rolling her shoulders back, Sara braces herself for her morning encounter with Hell’s most agitating Transport demon. As she steps up, Rip’s eyes fall to her and instantly the practiced smile drops from his lips. “For Hell’s sake,” Rip mutters, leaning against his rugged podium made of blood red and onyx rocks, “Why is it that you always find yourself in my lines in the mornings, Miss Lance.”

Annoyance already bubbling in her chest, Sara rolls her eyes and looks around at the other lines with a pointed expression. Row after row, all the Transport lanes are crowded with demons who are stepping through shimmering portals that lead to distant regions of Hell. The only on that stands consistently open is Rip’s. Somehow, he has managed to make himself enough of a menace that even the Chaos demons avoid his line as if it’s the Black Plague—the very illness they were responsible for on Earth.

Thankfully, Sara’s business here at the transportation portals is a relatively short matter. “I don’t need to go anywhere,” Sara explains as she hands over the basket in her hands, “I just need you to send this through to the Wastelands, right outside the residence of Nora Darhk.”

As expected, Rip lets out an angry sounding scoff and rests both his elbows along the podium while staring down at the basket Sara’s laid there. “This is not a delivery station,” Rip explains, his eyes flicking upwards as Sara just raises her brows, “If you want something left at Miss Darhk’s home, I suggest you take it to the Department of Deliveries and handle your business there. Now if you don’t mind I—”

“I think you owe me this one,” Sara cuts him off, offering him a very fake smile as she rests her hand just on Rip’s wrist. All it takes is a moment of transferring her memory from last week through her fingertips to the joint along his palm and Rip recoils hastily. A scowl is already settled along Rip’s mouth as he thumbs at the handles to the basket, resignation etched into his features. Pleased, Sara leans back and taps the basket, “I appreciate your help, and maybe next time remember that slamming a portal and beheading a Fire demon where I can see it comes with a price.”

Flashing Rip one more saccharine grin, Sara turns back around and makes her way from the portaling pathway and back up towards the Northwest part of the Cradle of Corruption. The walk home to the Living Peaks where Sara resides is a short one, one that’s made even faster by the lack of traffic this morning. Inside the Cradle, most demons have yet to start their day just yet, each still nestled inside their homes while they prepare for another day of torment and depravity.

Today is a particularly cloudy day, the bright and scalding Morning Star masked by the thick yellow smog that has settled along the tops of the cliff sides. The Cradle of Corruption lies within a crater in Hell, filled with glittering hues of blacks, reds, and oranges that decorate building fronts down below. Jagged rocks break through the smoke further below in the fallow, framing the volcano that will go off in only twenty minutes time if Sara’s internal clock is correct.

Normally, Sara might not wake as early as she has today. Normally she might spend her mornings sprawled out in bed, lamenting another dreadful day of preparing for the school year. For some reason this morning, Sara hadn’t been able to get much sleep after waking up due to the slight ache forming along the wing shaped scars that frame her shoulder blades. So, she had decided that she would run an errand instead, even stopping to get herself breakfast this morning.

When Sara’s feet touch the sands that make up the third inner spire of the Living Peaks where she resides, her shoes sink down into the ground, the spires’ way of welcoming her home. Sara continues upwards, making her journey along the winding path, thankful that the tormented souls trapped in the sands are still sleeping this morning and are unable to bother her.

Down below, nobody seems to notice they’re being watched, each demon still scurrying to and fro over the unevenly paved streets running through the center of the bustling city. Turning the final corner, Sara comes face to face with the glaring orange door that marks her apartment, the same door that Zari had painted only a week ago in an effort to make it visible from down below. Inside Sara’s pocket, her fingers find her keys and she tugs them from her pocket before slipping them into the door.

The door swings open with it’s usual screeching sound, the noise cutting through the disturbing silence in the apartment. On the couch, Amaya is curled there with a book, her fingers twisted up in her hair. “Hey, you’re going to fill the whole apartment with smog if you keep leaving the doors open,” Amaya scolds, gesturing inside where Sara can already see some of the mustard-colored smoke lingering along their blood red living room carpet, “Get in here before all of Hell sneaks in.”

That’s hardly a possibility, but in an effort to escape any more of her roommate’s theatrics, Sara closes the door behind her. Inside, Sara’s other roommate Zari is awake, bleary-eyed, and leaning against the kitchen counter with a blueberry scone in her hand. The last blueberry scone. “You’re up early,” Zari mumbles out, sipping something from the mug in her hand, likely the remnants of the spiked cider that they all made the night before.

“Had to send something off to Nora,” Sara remarks as she shrugs off her coat before tossing it lazily to the rack. The wobbling coat stand teeters for a moment before righting itself and letting out a displeased sounding growl. In return Sara scowls at the object, still not fond of the strange, cursed finds Zari brings home from the Midlands from time to time. “I wanted to do that before work today,” Sara continues as she rests her pastry box on the counter. The second reason is that the little bakery, Baking Bad, is only open for a set number of hours in the mornings.

Just as Sara goes to reach for her pastry box, it disappears in a burst of air. Zari now holds it on the other side of the kitchen, her smile victorious as she goes to pop open the lid. Typically, they might avoid using their powers so early in the morning, but Sara’s not going to back down from a fight. Sara phases quickly across the apartment, appearing right at Zari’s side and taking the box right from her hand.

It’s a risk seeing as Zari could recover and blast Sara away from her in a jet stream of air, but Sara moves swiftly out of Zari’s way before that can happen. “What the Heaven Sara,” Zari demands, suddenly looking far more awake as Sara carefully backs away from her with the box held out of reach, “I just wanted to see what’s inside.”

It’s a lie, without a doubt. Anytime Sara brings home donuts or scones from the bakery, Zari always ends up stealing them. “They’re not for you,” Sara explains simply, once more phasing across the apartment so there’s now an entire living room between her and Zari. Again, Zari looks nothing but angry, her eyes cutting over to Amaya who is pointedly ignoring them both, the same she always does when arguments break out. “I’m doing my daily demonic duty of tempting you with what you cannot have,” Sara continues on, holding one of the donuts out tauntingly before jumping back to the kitchen to stand by Zari’s side, “You wouldn’t want this anyways, it’s rotting you see?”

Reaching out, Sara lays her hand on Zari’s arm, projecting and pushing her desired false reality into Zari’s mind. In Sara’s own view, she watches as the donut in her hand develops spores of mold and dimpled holes that contain wriggling maggots. Instantly, Zari jerks away from Sara with a disgusted sound. “Dream demons,” Zari mutters under her breath, already walking to the fridge where there are perfectly good non-donut options left for her breakfast, “Go to Heaven Sara.”

“No more phasing in the apartment,” Amaya warns, not even looking up from the book she’s busy reading at the other end of the counter, “We talked about this last time Sara, remember when you were stuck with your foot halfway through the couch for an hour?”

That was hardly Sara’s fault. Dream demons are powerful illusion manipulators and are experts at phasing their own bodies to new locations, but from time to time even Sara burns herself out. “That was once,” Sara points out, taking a bite of her own scone as Zari snorts, still half buried in the fridge, “And I was able to get myself out only an hour later.”

No reply comes from Amaya, just a hum that lets Sara know it’s likely in her best interest to avoid anymore phasing this morning lest she burn herself out again and prove Amaya right. It’s already bad enough that Amaya’s able to read the energies of others, constantly using her powers as an Aura demon to let the others know their true feelings on certain subjects. If anyone has a power they constantly overuse, it would be Amaya, though thankfully she tends to keep the more important opinions and thoughts of others to herself.

“I hate planning week,” Zari complains, slinking into a barstool near Sara as she pours milk over a bowl of cereal, “I’m half tempted to avoid going altogether, it’s not as if planning mattered last year when we did this. Students never seem to care how creative we are with our decorations or how ugly our board displays are, they’re too old for that.”

Nodding her head in agreement, Sara takes another bite of her scone before deciding to have a bit of pity for Zari. After breaking her scone in half, Sara has a moment of weakness and passes part over to her friend. “They’re no longer in secondary school,” Sara agrees as Zari accepts the scone with a quiet grumble, “Terrifying displays and weeks of planning might be useful for the younger demons, but these students are in the advanced stages of their training. Torment is now the only thing that really gets their attention.”

That is the reason Sara is going to be going all out with her classroom decoration this year. Once again, she finds herself teaching the Horrifying Hallucinations class as well as the Dreams and Nightmares class. It’ll be Sara’s second year teaching these classes and her third year teaching overall. Already there are bags lining the counter in front of Sara, cluttered with various cans of glitter that Sara fully intends on sprinkling all over her classroom so it can thoroughly annoy her students when they find it stuck to their clothing.

A quiet ringing sound pings through the air, coming from the corner of the kitchen where a golden bracelet with a bright red stone sits atop the coffee maker. “You going to answer that?” Sara asks, turning her head to look at Zari who has her gaze focused on the counter in front of her, “Better go phone home, who knows what the Hell they have to say this time.”

“I was just there the other day,” Zari mutters, dipping her scone in her cereal as Sara wrinkles her nose, suddenly wishing that she hadn’t shared her breakfast pastry. The ringing comes to an end, the bracelet settling once more as Zari’s shoulders slacken. “I’ll go back later tomorrow or the day after,” Zari continues on nonchalantly, “I don’t have to enter the amulet to see the ancestors every single day.”

Sara keeps her mouth shut, deciding that arguing with Zari will do her no-good right now. Though technically, as a Gemini demon, Zari does have to go into her amulet every day to make sure that her alternative reality selves are staying where they should be. Each demon has a curse of sorts, and Gemini demons are bound to their amulets that they must disappear into every few days to maintain the balance of their dimensional counterparts. Sara has no idea how many Zari’s are out there somewhere in the hellish multiverse, and she’s not sure she wants to know.

Just as Sara shifts in her chair so she can phase into the kitchen to get a drink, warm arms envelope her from behind and a warm body presses against her back. Smiling quietly to herself, Sara rests her palms over the hands that settle along her stomach. “Terrible morning,” Sara greets quietly, reaching her hand backwards and tangling her fingers in silky soft hair. A chin rests on Sara’s shoulder, a nose nuzzling behind her ear and setting off familiar tendrils of warmth in Sara’s chest.

“Terrible morning,” Ava replies, her voice raspy and thick from sleep, “You were gone early this morning, you’re never up before I am.” Sara just nods her head with a small shrug because that’s nothing but true. She tends to value her time sleeping in whereas Ava has always been the good little Virtue demon she is and rises the moment the Morning Star appears in the sky. This morning had been different though, and Sara had left Ava behind, still tangled in the covers on her side of the bed as Sara slipped from the room.

“I sent your unused classroom supplies back to your apartment with Nora,” Sara explains as Ava hums quietly. A quiet yawn tumbles from Ava’s lips, her nose tucking itself further into Sara’s neck. Soft blonde hair rubs against Sara’s cheek, the stray strands tickling as the find their way under her nose. As always, Ava smells of warm cinnamon sticks, the scent filling every particle of the air Sara breathes in. “And I got those pastries you hate so much,” Sara tells Ava, reaching out and bringing the box closer to her.

The moment Sara pops the lid of the box to show Ava what’s inside, Ava untangles herself from Sara’s back and makes a pleased sound. Corners of her lips already lifting up, Sara watches as Ava comes to stand at her side and peers down into the box. There is of course more than enough to share this morning, but Sara wanted Ava to have first pick seeing as Ava’s always been rather picky with the foods she enjoys. “Peanut butter and bacon scones,” Ava hums appreciatively, reaching for the monstrosity of a pastry inside the box, “You know I find these repugnant.”

All Sara does is nod, still smiling as she watches Ava sink her teeth happily into the edge of the pastry. There’s not a lot in Hell that makes Virtue demons happy seeing as they’re naturally more uptight and choosier, but Sara’s learned the secrets of Ava’s joy over time, and these scones have always been Ava’s favorites. “Now can I have the box?” Zari asks petulantly, still glaring over at Sara even as Sara rolls her eyes before shoving the box her way.

The couch creaks over in the living room, the tell-tale sign that Amaya is choosing to join them as well. As Amaya comes to the kitchen, Ava slips onto the barstool next to Sara, her head falling to rest just on Sara’s shoulder. Instinctually, Sara’s hand comes up to rest along the nape of Ava’s neck, her fingers threading into silky soft hair. A quiet hum of encouragement comes from Ava as Sara fondly scratches her nails along Ava’s scalp. “Are you going to be ready to go in and decorate classrooms today?” Amaya asks, her question clearly directed at Ava as she leans across the counter.

“Maybe,” Ava mumbles, her head lifting away from Sara’s shoulders as a few snags catch along Sara’s fingertips while they slide through her hair, “I think I had too much to drink last night at Inferno, I forgot how dreadful it is to wake up this early after a night out.”

“Still worth it though,” Zari comments with her mouth half full of a donut, “I’ve never seen Ray literally shrink down like that, even Nora thought it was funny he reacted so strongly to being hit on.” All Sara can do is hum in agreement, already thinking back to the moment Ray realized that the Chaos demon at the bar really was trying to ask him out. It was only made funnier by the fact that Nora was clearly encouraging the Chaos demon, wanting to get a rise out of Ray.

Thankfully, Sara’s not hungover this morning, but then again, she didn’t have nearly the amount of drinks that Ava did. Even though Ava is awake now, Sara has a feeling that Ava’s going to be miserable for most of the day. “I’m lucky I’m only teaching one class this year instead of two,” Amaya says, already rubbing at the bridge of her nose when Sara glances over at her, “I don’t think I could handle Cursed Objects and Deadly Beasts Above and Below this semester.”

They’re all lucky in that regard, even Sara is only teaching her one class this semester. Sara’s hoping that this year, she’ll have an easier time teaching seeing as she only has Dreams and Nightmares on her schedule. “And our seminar we’re co-teaching, unless you’ve already forgotten that,” Zari chimes in, leveling her donut Amaya’s way with a pointed look, “You’re not allowed to back out of that, I won’t teach Eternal Objects on my own.”

“How could I forget when you’ve mentioned it three times this morning,” Amaya chides with a fond looking roll of her eyes. Zari says nothing to that, just shrugs and raises her brows before going back to eating. Amaya shakes her head quietly, but there’s a smile on her lips all the same. “No, I’ve not forgotten,” Amaya continues with a displeased sounding sigh, “I’m just dreading the preparation that comes with a class like that.”

“Didn’t you mention something about a Midlands visit to get one of the objects from the Purgatorium?” Ava questions, already slinking down in her seat once more, her body turning back into Sara’s own, “I’d come with you, but I think I’ll be too busy decorating into the evening.” Slightly surprised that Ava would willingly offer to go to the Eternal Archives with Amaya, Sara cranes her head to the side, but she can’t catch a glimpse at Ava’s face.

“It’ll be easier to go tomorrow,” Amaya waves Ava off with a flippant gesture, “Nobody wants to try and travel anywhere between the Realms on a Sunday, we all know what happens to demons who try.” Quietly Sara mumbles her assent, remembering her last run in with one of the meddlesome archangels who tend to patrol the Midlands on their so called “Holy Day”. It wasn’t a pleasant one, and she’s been on Gabriel’s bad side ever since she led a few humans astray only a few years back.

A hand slips inside Sara’s own, tugging her arm over into Ava’s lap. Glancing down, Sara catches sight of Ava’s fingers intertwined around her own. Ava’s thumb sweeps along the side of Sara’s own, her fingertips already worrying nervously at Sara’s skin. As Zari and Amaya move on to talk about their shared classes, Sara turns her head to the side and delicately lays her lips to the crown of Ava’s head. “You worried?” Sara murmurs, keeping her voice quiet enough that only Ava can hear.

Her question is met with a small shrug, a barely there lift of Ava’s shoulder as it slides along Sara’s own. “A little bit,” Ava confesses, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as she nuzzles in closer, “There’s so much to do and so little time to do it.” That is true, but then again, it’s no different from any other year. Sara won’t ever understand the reasoning, but the Conservatory only allows them to come in and decorate their rooms a few days before the beginning of the semester. “This year is bound to be Heaven,” Ava complains in a hushed tone, “I already know it.”

“Don’t manifest that,” Sara teases gently, elbowing Ava in the side and earning herself a quiet grunt in response, “I’m blaming you if that curse comes true.” There’s no reply from Ava other than a quiet displeased sounding hum and a corresponding squeeze of Ava’s fingers around her own. Lightly pressing her lips to Ava’s head once more, Sara rests her cheek along Ava’s soft downy hair.

As Sara looks up, she catches Zari’s eyes flickering away from her and Ava and over towards Amaya. There’s a small smile on Amaya’s face, the kind that Sara can’t read, and she instantly doesn’t like. But neither Amaya nor Zari says anything, they simply continue eating. “So, who’s taking what for their classes?” Sara attempts to break the new silence, glancing between her friends. As Zari and Ava instantly begin overlapping the other’s speeches, Sara just snorts and sits back in her chair to listen.

Silently cursing the Chaos demons, Sara slams open the break room door and storms out into the hallways. “If you’re going to break everything in sight then you need to leave,” Sara tells the three demons lingering around the now broken copier, “I won’t hesitate to tell Grand Demoness Gideon.” At the very mention of Gideon’s name, all three of the flame haired demons instantly stop what they’re doing and scamper from the room, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Grumbling under her breath, Sara lets the door fall closed once more as she turns on her heel and heads down the dimly lit hallways. All around her, lockers and cubbies clutter the walls and floors. Everything is still out of order, the result of several teachers coming in for the past three days to make sure that the school has been properly destroyed in preparation for the student’s arrival. To Sara’s right, there’s a poster advertising a weekend trip to the Cliffs of Damnation, a poster that much too in alignment for Sara’s taste.

With a click of her tongue, Sara detours from her path back to her classroom and adjusts the frame, tilting it exactly sixty-nine degrees of its axis. “Better,” Sara comments to herself, pleased with her work as she steps back. There are several other posters that line the halls, most of them advertising future jobs, such as soul collectors like Sara’s father, or even professors like Sara’s mother. There are even posters for the positions like the job Sara’s sister Laurel has, the kind of jobs that even demons find torturous—legal.

Leaving the posters along for the time being, Sara continues on her way through the halls, absentmindedly kicking spare debris along the floors to further the clutter. The walls around Sara have hardly changed since she was here as a student herself. Up ahead to her left, there’s a char mark on the wall where a particularly exuberant Fire demon had been very pleased with his bad performance on a class in Horrifying Hallucinations.

When Sara turns the final corner, a locker lays spread out along the floors, one that she has to carefully pick her way over. Along the top is a sticker that Sara had pressed there her very first year teaching at Cerebus Conservatory for Advanced Demons. For a moment, Sara pauses and looks to the sticker, the one that reads, “Hell is other people”. It was a silly sticker she had thrifted off a human when she was up on Earth one day. When Ray suggested they all make their mark on the school, Sara only had that sticker on her, so it had to do. Now it remains just a fond reminder of her three years teaching here.

The lights flicker menacingly as Sara continues down the hallway, stopping only between her door and the one across the hall from her when she hears a frustrated sounding grunt. A quick glance into Ava’s classroom reveals the problem. In the middle of the room, Ava stands there with several strands of crafted fire wrapped around her body. The snarled ball of light rests at her feet, the edge of the long string held in Ava’s hand. “Having trouble?” Sara asks, coming to lean in the doorway with a small smile.

When Ava’s head jerks up, there’s a startled expression on her face that quickly melts into annoyance before shifting to what has to be embarrassment. “You could say that,” Ava mumbles, shifting inside the tangled web of glimmering flames, “Think you could come in here and lend a hindering hand?”

Letting out a quiet laugh, Sara shoves off the doorframe and steps into the room. “You know there is an easier way to get these off you,” Sara comments, watching on as Ava huffs out an impatient sigh and rolls her eyes, “Fake flames have nothing on the little fires I’ve seen you make—and I know you’re not shy about igniting something when it pisses you off.”

“When are you going to let that go,” Ava mumbles, trying to raise her arms up before glaring at the strands wrapped around both her elbows, “I told you before, I wasn’t trying to set your shoes on fire, I was just trying to get you to stop before you stole my shirt and ruined it.” That’s hardly what had happened. Sara’s entire left shoe had gone up in flames, all a result of her simply borrowing one of Ava’s tops for the day. Thankfully it hadn’t burned her, but Sara’s unlikely to let Ava live that moment down anytime soon.

“I’ll let it go when you apologize,” Sara can’t help but antagonize, crossing her hands behind her back and leaning into Ava’s space with a small smile, “I’ve told you before, I was going to the shops only, not to the Pit of Doom as Nora said.” Really that morning could all be pinned on Nora, the true instigator of that event.

In front of Sara, Ava’s grey-blue eyes narrow before she lets out a heavy sounding exhale and turns her head to the side. “Fine,” Ava mutters in a gruff tone, “I’m terribly sorry that I set you on fire.” Tilting her head to the side, Sara patiently waits, still smiling as Ava purses her lips. “Although it was only an accident,” Ava pauses, now gritting out her words, “Will you please condemn me.”

Beaming, Sara lets out another laugh as Ava’s scowl intensifies. “You’re condemned,” Sara tells her jovially as Ava rolls her eyes, “Now let’s get you out of these before you cut off your own circulation and lose what little warmth you have in your body to begin with.” It’s a cheap dig at Ava’s cold-blooded nature, but Sara just can’t help herself. Thankfully Ava’s far too occupied with the tendrils wrapped around her wrists to have noticed the errant comment.

To Sara’s surprise, it’s not as easy getting Ava out of the flame wrap as she thought it might be. They’re tangled around all of Ava’s limbs in a way that would be admirable if Ava had done it on purpose. “How did you manage this?” Sara laughs as she kneels to gently unravel the cords that bind around Ava’s upper thigh, “Maybe you’d be better off teaching a class about Bondage, clearly your talent is wasted in Temptation and Deadly Sins.”

“Bondage?” Ava asks, her voice suddenly sounding strange. Confused, Sara glances up, her fingers tucked between the rope strands and Ava’s thigh. A bright pink flush has taken over Ava’s cheeks, clearly the result of overexerting herself as she attempts to get her left arm free. “I think I’ll stick to my classes,” Ava remarks pointedly before clearing her throat, “Better to leave Bondage to those who understand it best.”

Suddenly understanding, Sara can’t help but laugh as she shakes her head. “I meant Contract Bondage,” Sara clarifies as Ava’s lips press together and she looks over to the side of the room, “And you really shouldn’t judge other for their kinks you know, it’s considered impolite, even for demons.” A grumbled reply comes from Ava, one that Sara isn’t fully listening to as she goes back to her previous task.

It takes another ten minutes of unraveling, unwinding, and untangling before Ava is finally free. The now snare-less strand of flames rests along the floor, ready to be placed along the ceiling tiles of Ava’s room to create what Ava always calls a “frightful atmosphere”. Though looking around the room, Sara thinks that the flames are the least scary thing about the décor. Rows of desks are in perfect alignment, each of them equidistantly spaced throughout the room. Not a single chair has been untucked or crammed two to a desk, and there is a suspicious lack of debris cluttering the ground. In fact, Sara turns around the room and finds that there is no clutter at all.

Before she can even look back to Ava to comment on this though, Ava is sinking down into her chair at the front of the room with an exhausted exhale. Warmth flutters in Sara’s chest as she watches Ava bring her hands up to hear face and rub at her eyes. “You still tired from the bar night?” Sara asks, sidestepping the neat and orderly rows so she can make her way to Ava, “I told you that I’d take over your decorations today if you were still miserable.”

“I’m fine,” Ava protests just a little too quickly. Giving her a knowing look, Sara slips into Ava’s space and perches on the desk beside her. The moment Sara has settled there, Ava is folding over her lap, her head coming to rest just along Sara’s thigh.

“Virtue demons,” Sara murmurs fondly, reaching down and brushing Ava’s loose hairs from her face, “Always exhausting themselves with Unholy perfection.” A quiet snort is all Sara gets in reply, Ava’s eyes slipping shut for a moment. Sara doesn’t cease her movements along Ava’s hairline, drawing her fingers over the scattered freckles along Ava’s skin. There’s a crease forming along Ava’s brows, one that Sara reaches down and smoothes out. “You know I’ve heard that these can get stuck if you frown so much,” Sara teases gently, tracing her thumb between Ava’s eyes, “It’s a new form of torture and everything.”

Ava’s eyes open once more, her lashes fluttering as she lifts a single shoulder and sighs. “Sounds delightful,” Ava remarks as Sara exhales in amusement and smiles, “I think I would take that form of torture over the fresh Hell my day has been.” Nodding her head, Sara chooses to ignore Ava’s moment of blasphemy. “I had to go to the Fifth Circle before coming here, to collect those,” Ava waves her hand in the direction of the flames, “And unsurprisingly the portals did not take me there.”

Sara knows from experience that the Fifth Circle portals are notoriously unreliable, always dumping demons out in the most random places. “Did it take you to the Great Depths again?” Sara questions, remembering back to last Tuesday where the same thing had happened to her, “Sometimes I think that Rip sends me the wrong places on purpose, that it might not be the Fifth Circle after all.”

“No,” Ava shakes her head, her cheek rubbing along Sara’s black work pants, “This time I wound up somewhere on Earth, Florida of all places.”

Instantly Sara makes a face. “Florida?” Sara checks, receiving another nod in confirmation, “Why the Heaven would the portal take you to Florida—even demons hate Florida with all the Republicans, humidity, and retirees there.” Florida is a demon’s idea of Heaven on Earth, a place that Sara has been once and never wishes to return to again. Suddenly she understands Ava’s sour mood and exhaustion today. Earth is always taxing, but Florida is another beast altogether.

“I don’t know, they locations just got switched,” Ava replies, lifting her head up and propping her elbow on Sara’s leg instead. With her head settled in her palm, Ava glances across the room as Sara carefully tucks stray hairs behind Ava’s ear. “The demons at the Earth Station said that this happens a lot,” Ava continues on as Sara tilts her head to the side, “Apparently the humans think that Florida and Hell are the same thing and Hell is simply manifesting that too now.”

It’s a strange new development, one that definitely needs to be sorted because Sara only enjoys the alligators here in Hell that are confined to the torture suites. She has no desire to meet one in person. “Well, at least you’re almost done setting your room up,” Sara attempts to make Ava forget her daily torture, “But I’m not sure about your choice in décor, it all looks far too perfect to be a demon’s homeroom.”

Turning her head over her shoulder, Sara catches sight of Ava’s cork board in the back of the classroom. Even the flyers and decorations there are pin-straight, everything as neat as it can be. “Some of us were designed to follow rules and enforce sinful order,” Ava teases, her brows already raised, her smile playful when Sara turns back to her, “Not all of us enjoy all chaos all the time.”

“You’re a demon,” Sara counters as Ava snorts and rolls her eyes, “You’re meant to celebrate all things chaos and all things ugly—that is the point of being a demon.”

“Or I can choose to celebrate rules and virtues, all while appreciating the uglier things in life,” Ava replies, not even missing a single beat. Her fingers tap along Sara’s knee, the movement drawing Sara’s eyes downwards as something stirs up in her stomach. “You on the other hand—you’re maybe just a little too creative with your Unholy inventions,” Ava continues on, her smile fond when Sara looks up at her sheepishly, “I saw what you were working on earlier, Ten Daily Refutations?”

Shrugging, Sara tangles her fingers with Ava’s own to stop the trail Ava’s hand was taking along her calf, far too ticklish for Ava’s touch. “Well, I could hardly make them affirmations, that wouldn’t be very demonic of me would it?” Sara argues as Ava’s smile only grows, “But I might not have them this week—the Chaos demons have set at least three things on fire in the break room again, the copier included this time.”

All Ava does is smile and shake her head as she withdraws from Sara’s space, the warmth disappearing from Sara’s chest and stomach as Ava goes. Slightly cold now, Sara brings her arms up to fold over her chest as she shrugs. “The Refutations remind the students to always rue their day,” Sara comments as Ava hums, already leaning back in her chair. Across the hall, Sara’s half-finished project still has to be finished, something she was hoping to get done before going home today. “Speaking of which, I’d better to do that now,” Sara sighs, pushing off the desk and brushing her hand over Ava’s head before delicately laying her lips against Ava’s cool skin, “Come see me before you leave? We can commiserate the day together.”

“Always,” Ava replies, her lips still lifted upwards even as Sara backs away with one final smile as she heads for the door. The partially dismantled hallways outside are a far more welcoming sight than the neat precision contained in Ava’s room, a stray flyer floating along the halls as Sara slinks back to her room. Leaving the door open so she can compare her own room progress to Ava’s every so often, Sara slips back into her chair and grabs her pen, ready to finish making her own classroom decorations.

Thumbtack caught between her teeth, Sara teeters on the edge of the wobbling stool while pressing papers into the cork board in front of her. There’s a space just inches above her hand where she needs to move the paper—a task that might be simpler if Sara was only a bit taller. “This would be easier if you let me help,” Zari mutters just a few feet behind Sara, still complaining about Sara’s previous refusal.

But Sara doesn’t need assistance with this, not when there’s only a single plaque left to hang on her classroom display board. “I’m fine,” Sara reassures her as she pushes up onto her toes, reaching upwards to secure the final tack, “See, now everything is finished.” Carefully, Sara pulls her hands away from the board, half expecting all her hard work to go crashing to the ground. Miraculously, not a single laminated sheet falls.

Smiling, Sara backs up and bends so she can step off the stool beneath her before it rolls away. The board was the final chore on Sara’s list in completing the set up of her classroom for the year. With this done, she can move on to finalizing her lesson plans for the upcoming week. Proudly glancing at the board, Sara double checks the work in front of her. “You’re missing something there,” Zari points out, her hand already raised to the only blank spot left on the tawny colored cork board.

“I’m saving it for something,” Sara rolls her eyes, swatting her friend’s hand away, “Tomorrow I’ll have the Unholy Commandments there when they’re finished being laminated. The Chaos demons were wreaking havoc in the break room—again.” At the mention of the evil little demons, Zari makes a small face that Sara feels tempted to mimic.

“Those kinds of demons give us all a bad name,” Zari complains, shoving away from the table and slinking over to Sara’s rolling chair, “No wonder all the zealots on Earth think Hell is so terrible when those little creatures are the ones running around up there.” Sara nods her head understandingly, her eyes still caught on her board. “Of all demonkind, why are Chaos demons the only ones who are able to just freely walk the Earth,” Zari continues on as Sara lets out a little laugh, “It’s hardly fair if you ask me.”

It really isn’t fair, but it’s not as if Sara can do anything about it. Not wanting to encourage Zari on a further tirade, Sara instead reaches out and tilts her board to the side, leaving it slightly out of alignment. With her hands on her hips, Sara takes another step back to take in her day’s work.

This year, Sara has aimed for perfect visual displays of dissonance to make the learning environment entirely unpleasant. In front of Sara, the board is covered in blinding arrays of colors that don’t match, as well as a plethora of different font patterns and sizes. Not a single aspect of the board blends together in harmony, instead making an obnoxious and hideous display. Another smile pulls at Sara’s lips as she hums. “This is terrible—absolutely grotesque,” Sara announces proudly, as Zari nods her head in agreement, “I love it.”

Pleased with her unattractive display, Sara crashes backwards into the angled chair behind her. The classroom around her is already set up to her preferences. Each desk faces at an angle very unfavorable to viewing the board, there are mismatched lightbulbs tucked in the ceiling lights, and Sara has positioned the half melted plastic apple that has been painted to appear as if it’s rotting. “You’ve found your calling in decorating,” Zari drawls as she kicks her feet up on the desk, a clear dig that Sara chooses to ignore.

“Well, you finished everything early,” a voice remarks from the hallway. Sara looks up to see Amaya standing there, her totem around her neck, her eyes scanning the classroom. “I thought you’d surely slack off like you did last year,” Amaya remarks as Zari snorts from the desk, clearly amused, “We all had a bet running that you’d wait until the last minute again—right Ava?”

Across the hall, Sara hears Ava’s muttered agreement, but Ava doesn’t lift her head up, still scribbling something with her cursed ink pen that Sara gifted her last week. “You can all go to Heaven,” Sara scoffs, folding her arms over her chest as Amaya just raises her brows and Zari lets out a little laugh, “The only reason that I didn’t finish earlier is because I was helping Ava this morning when she couldn’t position her infernal flames along the walls—I was almost tempted to let her struggle on her own.”

Another grumble comes from across the hall, a clear sign that Ava does not in fact appreciate the mockery coming her way. Something crackles along the floor and Sara looks down just in time to lift her foot away from the dazzling blue and silver flames licking along the tile. Quickly, Sara taps her foot over the small fire to put it down, leaning forwards in her chair to look across the hall. Ava is already smiling, her pen poised in her hand, her eyes focused on her work. “Didn’t you just apologize for this the other day?” Sara calls out as Ava’s smile widens, “Clearly you weren’t sorry at all.”

“You two cut it out,” Amaya chides as Sara just grins over at Ava, “The last thing we need is a repeat of two years ago where Ava lit the cafeteria table on fire and Sara made all the lunches appear as if they were rotting.” Amaya levels Sara with a scathing look, one that Sara pointedly ignores because she does not regret fighting with Ava that day when Ava suggested that vampires were purely a figment of human imagination.

Across the hall, Ava is looking up now, that same smile on her face that Sara’s sure is mirrored on her own. “Thankfully we don’t fight like that anymore,” Sara comments as Ava raises her brows, “Not to that scale.” Sara knows they still bicker and tease one another, but there are no full-blown disagreements had in the halls or cafeterias. Kicking out another chair so Amaya can take a seat across from her, Sara asks, “Did you find what you needed for your shared seminar?”

“I think so,” Amaya sighs, sinking down into the chair as she rubs at the bridge of her nose, “The Purgatorium guards were being rather strict today—as if I would want anything to do with Gabriel’s Sword other than to use it to teach the young demons here what happens if they touched blessed metal.”

Sara can’t help but shiver even just thinking about the barren wide-open space that exists in the Midlands just outside the Purgatorium. She has no fond memories of the desolate landscape that’s constantly cast in hues of greys and blues, and she has even less fond memories of running into the meddlesome angels that guard the Midlands. “Angels are so dim-witted,” Sara complains as her friends murmur their assent, “Not a single demon wants to willingly bring a Heavenly Object down to Hell, not a Sword, and certainly not Holy Water.”

“You’d think they’d learn that even just a drop of that stuff would burn us for weeks,” Zari comments, her arms already folded over her chest, her nose wrinkled as she leans back in her seat, “I don’t think any demon will ever forget their first experience with the stuff.”

Sara knows that she won’t, and she’d rather not think back to her time in her own Eternal Objects class where she had her first encounter with Holy Water. Rustling to the side gains Sara’s attention and she looks up in time to see Ava slipping into the room. There’s a smile on Ava’s face, a small one as her eyes glimmer in the light. Warmth burns and carves through Sara’s chest as Ava comes near, the byproduct of being so close to a demon known for their temptations.

Amaya is still rattling off all the things the angels want her to do in order to borrow the sword—a conversation Sara tunes out. The others hardly acknowledge Ava as Sara nudges out yet another chair, the one right near her. Ava’s coat shifts as she sits, an all-black jacket pierced through with several holes that reveal glittering hues of crimson and gold underneath. It’s a gift that Nate had given her a while back, a coat that reflects the same colors of the gemstones in the Quarry of Extinction down in the Great Beyond.

This morning Sara had helped Ava plan her weekly outfits, and this is one of her favourites of Ava’s jackets. Virtue demons are occasionally sticklers for routines and schedules, and Sara always finds it amusing that Ava needs to have all her clothing laid out in neat lines along her dresser. This jacket is one that Sara had plucked from Ava’s closet for her and handed over this morning before she had to head out before Ava. The jacket suits Ava, a lovely stark black color against her soft looking skin and silky blonde hair.

Ava’s eyes are still on Sara’s own, her cheeks tinting a soft pink before she looks away. Her hand comes up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Sara’s eyes are glued to the motion. Virtue demons always are striking, but Sara finds Ava particularly tempting. It’s hard not to get caught up in her spell from time to time, some kind of allurement that all Virtue demons give off. Usually, Sara is good at ignoring these appeals coming from Ava’s kind, but she’s learned that the closer a being gets to a Virtue demon, the more temptation that is present. Being around Ava for prolonged periods of time always weakens Sara’s impulses.

Not that Sara minds, Ava is her favourite demon to be around after all. Fingers feather along the skin of Sara’s cheek, the touch making her jump slightly as she turns her head to the side. Ava’s looking back at her with that shy smile on her lips, her hand still raised up near Sara’s temple. “You’ve got paper pieces in your hair,” Ava comments, pulling backwards with a few specks of white paper that likely found their way into Sara’s hair when she was cutting things earlier.

Ava removes her hand from Sara’s face, but she slides it down Sara’s arm instead, her fingers slipping into Sara’s own. As always, Ava’s palm is cool to the touch, the same way that the skin of all Virtue demons is. “Better than you almost scorching yourself with the flames earlier,” Sara taunts as Ava simply rolls her eyes, her fingers squeezing around Sara’s own.

Ava’s eyes cut to Sara’s own, her lips lifted in that small smile she wears from time to time, the one Sara thinks is her favourite. Smiling back, Sara squeezes Ava’s hand and tunes back into the conversation. Amaya is focused once more on the ridiculous nature of the angel's requests and how she’ll never fulfill them in time. “You could always steal them,” Sara points out as Amaya scoffs and rolls her eyes, “The angels would expect it, and what’s the Big Man going to do, curse us all again? Send us somewhere lower than Hell?”

“I’m not stealing anything,” Amaya clicks her tongue as Sara just shrugs again, looking over to Zari who is shaking her head in disapproval at Amaya’s skewed morals, “Being a demon doesn’t mean always being bad.”

It’s a repulsive thing to say, likely the product of Amaya mixing up with the angels far too frequently. Sara recoils in her seat, leveling Amaya with an incredulous look. Even Ava sounds scandalized, always a stickler for following the clearly laid out rules of Hell—one of which is to never utter such heinous blasphemy. “Not again,” Zari groans quietly as Sara continues to stare at her friend in disbelief, “Amaya you are just asking to be called into the office of His Unholiness. Demons are bad, so demons steal, so if you need the Sword, you should just take it.”

“It was probably Lucifer’s to begin with,” Sara adds in pointedly as Zari hums her agreement, “You know how angels are with trying to ‘rewrite the Infernal Narrative’, they’d have everyone believe that demons were the only ones who did something wrong. The Big Guy knows everything, but he put that tree there. If he didn’t want Man to Fall, then why plant it there in the first place? Sounds like something our kind would do.”

Amaya mutters something under her breath that Sara can’t hear, but at least she’s not committing blasphemy any longer. “Anyways,” Zari lilts, raising her brows and leaning back in the chair, “Are we all ready for this, another year of teaching these little Hellions?”

Already smiling, Sara nods her head and looks to Ava who sits beside her. A look of dread passes over Ava’s face as Sara’s smile only grows. “Don’t do it,” Ava warns, holding a single finger in Sara’s direction.

“I’m definitely ready for the new year,” Sara confesses to the others, ignoring Ava’s request and eyes that she can feel watching her, “I for one know it’s going to be the most terrible year yet,” Sara pauses and looks to Ava who’s already watching her, her lips beginning to quirk upwards, “One could even say it will be one Hell of a good time.”

“There it is,” Zari groans as Ava rolls her eyes and shakes her head. But Sara can see the smile on Ava’s face, and Ava’s leg still brushes against her own. Blue-grey eyes meet Sara’s own, sparkling so clearly with amusement as that warmth cuts through Sara’s body again. Something hot rises to Sara’s cheeks just as Ava looks away. Ava shifts in her chair, the motion pressing their sides together as Sara settles into the more comfortable position and allows herself to lean into Ava.

A content sounding hum falls from Ava’s lips as Sara rests her head along Ava’s shoulder and breathes in the familiar cinnamon scent that follows Ava around. The fingers tangled around Sara’s own give a tiny squeeze that Sara mirrors back as well as the others resume their conversation. Letting out a quiet sigh, Sara sinks further into Ava and glances around her room, hoping that everything this year is just as awful as it has the potential to be.

“This is dreadful weather we’re having,” Sara complains as she treks up the sandy hill underneath her feet, “And not even the pleasurable kind of dreadful.” To her right, Amaya mutters her assent and shields Sara and herself more with the umbrella they’re carrying. Around them the beginnings of the Hellfire storm is coming down, lighting everything in the Cradle of Corruption around them orange and red.

Under Sara’s feet, the sands of the pathway shifts, deviously catching her foot just as she was about to lift it. Scowling, Sara kicks her foot free before crushing the bothersome sand tendril under her heel. She and Amaya are on their way home, making their way up the spires of the Living Peaks just north of the Cradle. Sara’s lived here with Amaya and Zari for three years now, the three of them sharing the little apartment and making it their own. It’s warmer here in the Cradle than it is out in the Wastelands where Ava, Nate, and Nora all prefer to live—a climate that’s better suited to their cold-blooded species. While Sara doesn’t always love living in the Peaks, she’ll choose this over the barren tundra that exists out in the Wastelands.

A mournful shriek comes from the side of Sara’s body, a hand reaching out from the sandy spire she and Amaya are still hiking up. Reaching out, Sara brushes her hand over the grainy surface, clearing away the image of the lost soul’s face before it has time to form. “I hate when they do that,” Amaya grumbles under her breath, speeding up slightly, “As if reaching out to us is going to save them now that they’re damned for all eternity.”

Sara makes a face as another tendril attempts to trip her once more. The walls and pathways are both made from the sands of the souls, and when they’re not tripping demons, they’re arguing with those who walk along their paths. Even now, Sara can hear chattering and groaning coming from further up the Peaks, likely some demon caught in the middle of a fight with a particularly stubborn soul.

“Humans always were relentless,” Sara shrugs, trailing her fingers over the walls made of ground down ash and bone. Hellfire continues to fall as they go, the sizzling drops of liquid fire striking the ground with a hiss as Sara and Amaya walk in the spiraled pathway that carves along the Seventh Peak. If Sara had known the forecast was going to be so ghastly today, she might have convinced Amaya to take the portals with her rather than having them walk home. Portaling is a far easier way to get home, assuming of course the Transport demons are feeling amiable and don’t send others to the incorrect destination.

Finally, they turn the corner just as the downpour picks up, the air getting warmer as Amaya roughly shoves the door open. Sara tumbles inside first, looking around the apartment and spotting Zari’s things on the ground near the door, but there is no Zari in sight. It shouldn’t be time for Zari to disappear into her crystal for the day, but then again Zari has never really been the most consistent Gemini demon. “She’s gone?” Amaya asks as Sara walks to the living room.

A golden necklace with a red stone lain in the center rests on the table, a note scribbled out beside it. “She’s gone,” Sara confirms, kicking off her shoes and sinking down into the couch. Dramatically Sara flops to her back as she listens to Amaya moving around in the kitchen, likely about to begin cooking as it’s her night to do so. “Are you exhausted too?” Sara calls out as she hears the fridge door open, “Today was only day one of lesson planning and I’m ready to be finished for the week.”

“You barely touched your planner,” Amaya replies in a deadpan as Sara snorts, “Don’t even act as if you’re not going to wing the entire semester just like you did last year.” Amaya isn’t wrong. Sara has always done better coming up with plans on the fly. “You usually just go with the flow in Dreams and Nightmares, so I’m sure planning can’t be that taxing,” Amaya continues as Sara simply shrugs, still staring up at the ceiling.

Exhaling quickly, Sara shoves up into a sitting position and rests against the arm of the blood-red colored couch, “Do you think this year is going to be worse than last year?” For a moment Amaya pauses where she had been about to take one of the pots down from the overhead wrack, her hand suspended in mid-air.

“I certainly hope so,” Amaya replies earnestly, already smiling as she brings the pan down and settles it on the counter, “The new demons certainly seem to be horrifyingly dull, and we’ll have the genius evil of the older students to help us through the boredom that tends to come from teaching our younger students.” Sara wrinkles her nose slightly as she brings her knees up to her chest. Boredom is the nightmare of Sara’s kind, something she never hopes to encounter on the job.

Humming her assent quietly, Sara scans the apartment around her, looking at the mess over to the side of the door that contains all the boxes that Sara and the others have yet to take into the school. Sara’s Dream Sphere rests nestled in a velvet box sitting to the side, the very object that she uses in class to show her students a live dream of a human so they can manipulate sleep in real time. Other objects clutter the table and floor as well, none of it organized because Sara hadn’t bothered to waste her time with that.

The rest of the living room is spotless though, the twin couches facing each other with the plush pitch-black bean bag chair resting off to the side. A small table rests in the middle of everything, and a TV is mounted on the wall, only able to receive the live program shows streaming from inside the torture chambers. Sara’s grown fond of channel five, a documentary about humans being forced to watch documentaries about documentaries.

A loud noise shatters through the apartment, Sara’s attention jumping to the door where Ava stands, blots of red and orange liquid slipping from her shoulders and falling to the black shag carpet where it sizzles quietly. “In case anyone was wondering,” Ava begins, her voice taut as she snaps her umbrella shut, “It is in fact raining Hellfire—something that was not supposed to happen until after Devil’s Hour.”

Sara peers to the clock inside the kitchen and finds the arm of the clock is only a few centimeters from the little depiction of Satan’s face that denotes Devil’s Hour. It doesn’t surprise Sara that the weather prediction was incorrect. “Well, the one reliable thing about the Forecast demons is that they are consistently unreliable,” Sara comments as Ava snorts. “Did you get burned?” Sara asks, concerned as she turns to face Ava again, her eyes sweeping over Ava’s body, “We don’t need you breaking out in hives again, you shouldn’t even be out in weather like this when you’re Hellfire intolerant.”

“I’m fine, no burns this time,” Ava mutters, shaking off her coat as Sara sits up further on the couch, “Thank Satan.” Sara hums her agreement as Ava waves her hand in Amaya’s direction before wandering over to the couch. When Ava throws herself to the couch, Sara has already laid a pillow in her lap in preparation. Ava’s head lands against the pillow, her body curled up on the couch, her long limbs barely fitting along the cushions. “Today was the bad kind of terrible,” Ava mumbles, her eyes already slipping closed as she brings her hand up and tucks it under her face.

A smile takes over Sara’s lips as she leans back against the couch, shifting so Ava can be more comfortable. “Did someone curse your papers again?” Sara asks teasingly, her hand falling to Ava’s soft blonde hair, her fingertips rubbing gently at Ava’s scalp. No answer comes from Ava, just a quiet hum as she nudges her head up further into Sara’s palm. Sara’s smile only widens as she shifts her hand upwards, finding the base of Ava’s perfect golden horns.

Each one has a pointed tip that never draws blood from Sara’s fingers which she accidentally snags her skin along them, the curved spikes glistening in the light of the apartment. Gingerly, Sara rubs her fingers along the base of Ava’s horns, soothing out the tension she knows gathers there throughout the day. “That feels like Unholy bliss,” Ava mumbles, her fingers curling around Sara’s thigh, “Your massages are a Dream.”

Heat gathers in Sara’s cheeks as that familiar warmth cuts through her stomach. “This is my job after all,” Sara teases as Ava snorts. While Sara’s powers weren’t made specifically for soothing Ava’s pain, she certainly can use them to clear away some of Ava’s more troublesome thoughts in an effort to help her relax. Slowly, Sara feels the tension slip from Ava’s body, her muscles relaxing from the rigid posture they were in before. A quiet, content sigh falls from Ava’s lips, her facial expression neutral now rather than pinched and frustrated.

Happy that she’s done her job well, Sara leans back once more, her eyes roaming Ava’s face. Gently, Sara brushes the backs of her knuckles over Ava’s cheek, tracing the barely there dusting of freckles that adorn Ava’s skin. Sometimes moments like this take Sara by surprise when she thinks back to the way they used to clash three years ago. Ava’s still a Virtue demon, so she’s still earned herself the title of being one of Hell’s sticklers, but now Sara’s grown fond of Ava’s strange behaviours.

Now when they fight with one another, it ends in laughter instead of the full-blown curse wars that used to ensue. Tracing just the pads of her fingers along Ava’s eyebrow, Sara finds the tiny scar there along Ava’s brow bone that came from their first ever fight. “I can’t believe this never healed,” Sara remarks, watching on as Ava’s brows rise and her lashes flutter open, “I never meant to phase into you like that.”

“You never watch where you’re going when you phase around,” Ava counters, stating a truth that even Sara knows, “What you should be sorry for was making me spill my Booklets of Blasphemy all over the hallway floors, I needed those to educate my students on the Origin of Mankind and the lies of the Holy Enemies.”

Chuckling lightly, Sara brushes her hand down along Ava’s jaw, gently thumbing at her chin as Ava smiles up at her. “Well, you got me back days later, I think there are still scorch marks on my ceiling from the exploding three-headed toads you unleashed in there,” Sara reminds Ava. Smile already widening, Ava just hums quietly before nuzzling her cheek back down into the pillow. “Good thing we called that truce,” Sara continues on, her hand once more finding purchase in Ava’s silky hair, “Clearly you’re sinful enough to be a worthy friend.”

In her lap, Ava makes another sound, one that sounds slightly displeased this time around. Smiling to herself, Sara lightly taps the top of Ava’s head, her fingers ghosting along the tips of Ava’s horns. “Have you given much thought about this year’s competition?” Sara asks as Ava rolls to her back, bright blue-green eyes focusing on Sara’s own. Unlike Sara’s own eyes which shift shades of blue to reflect her mood, Ava’s always remain a stationary color. They’re always an absolutely alarming shade of grey-blue, similar to the colors of the depths of the Lake of Oblivion—Sara quite likes them.

“The usual rules?” Ava proposes, her hand reaching up and finding Sara’s own, “Whoever secures the worst reviews by the semester end is the winner?” It’s not as much of a competition as it is a personal challenge. Though there are times where Sara or Ava might take steps to meddle in the outcome by sabotaging the other. That will be made even easier this year with their classrooms being in such close proximity. “The winner could be awarded with a prize?” Ava suggests, her gaze caught on their joined hands.

Ava’s fingers are fiddling with Sara’s own, rolling the rings around Sara’s knuckles, the very rings that Ava had gifted her not even three months ago. “A prize?” Sara repeats in confusion as Ava glances up to her, “There was no prize last year.”

“Yes, well your kind has always loved external motivators for your efforts in torture and torment,” Ava replies flippantly as Sara just hums to herself, “I though maybe this would prompt you to do better than you did last year. Maybe this time you’ll actually stand a chance at beating me.”

Scoffing quietly, Sara lightly taps at the bridge of Ava’s nose. “You cheated last year by setting off those fire stars in my classroom in the middle of my Horrifying Hallucinations class,” Sara reminds Ava as Ava raises her shoulder in a shrug, not looking even remotely apologetic, “If you hadn’t done that, then I would have been able to assert myself as the worst teacher.” Again, all Ava does is roll her eyes as she lets out a little laugh. “But I can get on board with this new proposal,” Sara agrees as Ava’s smile grows, “So what are you proposing as the prize.”

In her lap, Ava shifts so she’s laying on her stomach now, her elbows propped on the pillow in Sara’s lap. This position has them closer than before, their faces near each other. Sara’s breath falters in her lungs, that red hot feeling flaring off in her stomach once more as her eyes fall to the way Ava’s lip is caught between her teeth. “I thought that you could make the prize,” Ava suggests as Sara leans back to create some space between them, “You’re the Dream demon after all—surely you could put all that creativity to use.”

Ava’s tone is low and gravely, the kind that she only uses now and gain, the tone that always has Sara’s stomach flipping around inside her body. Recently Ava’s charms have been getting stronger, and while Sara doesn’t mind them, it does make moments like this hard for Sara to breathe properly. “Stop it,” Sara warns her with a small smile, hoping that Ava reigns in her powers, “You’re the temptress, why can’t you create something with all your knowledge on the Deadly Sins.”

A laugh tumbles from Ava’s lips as she finally leans backwards, the pressure in Sara’s body finally dissipating. With a quiet sigh of relief Sara sinks into the cushions once more. “So, then we both make a prize,” Ava concedes as she looks across the room to the mess by the door, “Whoever loses has to give their present to the other.”

It sounds like a good deal, certainly better than last semester’s challenge where the end was rather anticlimactic. By some stroke of misfortune, they both ended up tying the other—the first challenge draw since they began this. “You’ve got a deal demon,” Sara accepts with a grin, her hand outstretched to Ava.

That wicked smile is back along Ava’s curved lips, her eyes glinting with a clear challenge. Ava’s hand is cold in Sara’s own, sending jolts of electricity up Sara’s arm that settle just inside her ribcage. Quickly withdrawing her hand once more, Sara lays her hand in her lap and looks to Ava who is peering over the back of the couch. “Do you mind if I grab something to change into?” Ava asks, nodding down the back hallway in the direction of Sara’s room, “I hate the smell of sulphur here in the air in the Cradle.”

It’s a smell that Sara herself adores. She enjoys the way that the thick scent clings to her clothing and skin for the rest of the day. But Ava’s used to the frigid air of the Wastelands and the way it always smells of jet fuel, so Sara will make her best effort to forgive Ava for her prejudice against the finer smells of Hell. “Go ahead, I think I have some of your shirts from the other day,” Sara replies, “They’re back in your drawer.”

Ava’s smile only grows as she pushes up off the couch. She heads from the living room, but not before bending down in Sara’s space and delicately pressing her cold lips to the side of Sara’s cheek. Flames course through Sara’s skin, her blood bubbling under the surface as Ava lets out a quiet chuckle and slips from the room. With a quiet sigh, Sara stands up herself and slinks into the kitchen.

Amaya is at the counter, already slicing up peppers for the spiced lasagne they’re having tonight. There’s a smile on her face too, her eyes cutting up to Sara as she raises her brows. “Ava has a drawer?” Amaya questions as Sara sits down into the barstool across from her, “That’s a new development.”

Confused, Sara leans her elbows on the counter and settles her chin in her palms. “Not really,” she replies as Amaya just hums and continues slicing peppers using her extended claws, “She’s always staying over here because the Cradle is closer to the Conservatory, and I was tired of tripping over her go bag—she even agreed it was the practical decision.” Seeing as half of Sara’s drawers are unoccupied, it only made sense that she allows Ava to fill some of them. “I’ve got a drawer at her place too,” Sara shrugs, not understanding the big deal, “Ava was tired of me borrowing her clothing—you know how Virtue demons are.”

All that comes from Amaya is a hum and another raise of her brows before she drops her attention back down to the cutting board. Behind Sara, a zapping noise breaks through the air. Turning over her shoulder, Sara watches as swirls of dark grey mist form near the table, the amulet already rattling on the glass top. As the mist begins to clear, Zari comes into view, waving her hands in front of her face. “God that took forever,” Zari mutters, snatching her amulet from the table and slipping it over her head.

“How’s the family?” Sara teases as Zari just snorts, already making her way to the kitchen, “Should we expect a visit from the other Zari anytime soon.” Another grumble falls from Zari’s lips, but there’s no real reply.

“If I can help it, she’ll stay put in her world and I’ll stay in mine,” Zari complains as she sits down in the stool next to Sara, “It was a disaster the last time she accidentally took the path out of the totem and wound up here instead of me.” Sara remembers that day fondly, primarily because Zari’s parallel twin had been nothing like her and Sara still enjoys giving Zari Hell for it. “What’s with your face?” Zari asks, her brows drawn as she looks to Sara, “You’re all smiley.”

Self-consciously, Sara raises her hand to her mouth and finds that the edges of her lips really are lifted in a small smile. “Ava’s here,” Amaya answers as Sara looks to her, still not sure what the obsession is with Ava today. But clearly that means something to Zari because she lets out an absolutely delighted sounding laugh that she typical reserves for watching the channel fourteen torture where humans get stuck in infinite time loops. Instantly a frown takes over Sara’s face as Zari raises her brows with that glimmer in her eyes.

“What does that even mean?” Sara demands, looking between her friends with an expression she hopes is threatening, “I smile for other things.” Again, Amaya and Zari share a look, both of them clearly holding in some kind of secret that Sara is not privy to. Instantly Sara’s insides twist as her frown deepens because she doesn’t understand what Ava has to do with this. “I smiled just this morning,” Sara argues haughtily, leaning back in her chair as she folds her arms over her chest, “Rip the Transport demon was run over by the Hellhounds and I even laughed when it happened.”

Across the counter, both Amaya and Zari are exchanging a look that seems all too amused for Sara’s liking. Instantly scowling, Sara slinks lower in her chair. “The Hellhounds run people over at least three times a day,” Zari comments as Sara rolls her eyes, “I’m talking about your special smile for Ava, one where your cheeks color like that.”

Again, Sara brings her hand to her cheek so she can touch her skin. It’s no hotter than the rest of her body, and Sara can’t feel the familiar heat that creeps through her whenever Ava is around and actively being her charming Virtue demon self. “It’s hot in here,” Sara argues as Zari scoffs and shakes her head, “There’s Hellfire falling outside, of course my skin is going to have a little bit of color after walking home in that—I can’t control the weather.”

A snort comes from Zari, the kind that usually comes right before she says something that Sara isn’t going to like. Stiffening slightly, Sara braces herself for whatever comes next. “I’m going to assume that Ava is staying here again tonight?” Zari asks as. It’s not the question that Sara was expecting. Confused, Sara slowly lifts her shoulder in a shrug as Zari’s smile grows on her face. “This would be what, five nights in a row?” Zari questions as Sara glances over at Amaya, finding a small smile there on her friend’s lips, “I don’t see why you don’t just have her move in at this point.”

It’s an insane thing to say, even by demonic standards. “She’d overheat up here, you know she can’t handle the Cradle for any longer than twelve hours,” Sara states plainly, tilting her chin up as she glares back at Zari, “Ava stays here with me because it makes more sense for her to be here where she’s close to the school. The walk from the Wastelands can be incredibly tiresome—this is for convenience and I—”

“Hey Amaya,” Zari interrupts as Sara clicks her tongue and kicks her foot out at her friend. An indignant expression takes over Zari’s face, but Sara just raises a single brow. “Amaya,” Zari continues pointedly, her brows narrowed down over her eyes as Amaya hums, “Can you tell me if the portals in the Wastelands have stopped working suddenly?”

With a grunt, Sara folds her arms over her chest as her cheeks heat once more for some inexplicable reason. “They’re functioning perfectly,” Amaya remarks, not looking up from her new cooking task. Zari opens her mouth to say something again, but she’s interrupted by the sound of Amaya rapping her pointed nails along the cutting board. “Leave her alone,” Amaya chides, not even looking up from where she’s laying the peppers inside the already prepared tin for the pasta, “She’ll come to her senses sometime in this millennia.”

Slightly offended, Sara leans back in her seat and prepares to say something right as her bedroom door opens. Ava steps out into the hallway, wearing her own black sweatpants, but she has on a t-shirt that is definitely Sara’s own. It’s a tattered old t-shirt that Sara’s had for years, one of a demon band, “The Ungrateful Dead” that regularly performs at the Inferno. Pursing her lips, Sara watches as Ava closes the bedroom door before slipping out into the kitchen, her feet already bare, her hair down and spilling over her shoulders.

There’s a gentle smile on Ava’s face that Sara can’t help but mirror as she gazes after her. Glinting horns spring from Ava’s hair, shining a soft golden color in the low lighting of the hallway. As Ava walks out, her eyes meet Sara’s own and Sara feels her insides twist with warmth again. To the side, Sara spots movement and looks over just in time to find that same wicked grin on Zari’s face. Instantly Sara drops her smile and grumbles quietly as she reorients in her chair so she’s facing Amaya rather than Ava.

“Ava,” Zari greets her with a smile, “We were just talking about you.” Not even hesitating, Sara kicks her foot out under the counter and connects with Zari’s shin—hard. Instantly Zari lets out a small sound of pain, her eyes cutting over to Sara, her glare nothing short of murderous. Raising her brows, Sara silently challenges Zari to test her right now. They’ve been through this before; anytime Zari takes a joke too far, Sara plagues her with nightmares until Zari apologizes. “We were wondering if you’re going to be spending the night,” Zari backs down with a sarcastic smile—a wise choice.

Ava’s attention falls to Sara now, looking at her for confirmation. Seeing as tomorrow is a workday, Sara doesn’t see why Ava wouldn’t stay here with her. Sara always sleeps better with Ava next to her, so she just nods her head with a small smile. “I may as well,” Ava peeks outside and Sara follows her gaze to look out the window where the air outside has been set ablaze, “I don’t see me getting out of here without being scalded.”

“Well, you’re always welcome,” Amaya tells Ava, always the diplomatic one. Sara hums in agreement and holds her hand out to Ava, silently beckoning her over. With quiet footfalls, Ava pads over and her fingers slip into Sara’s own. The moment their skin touches, that surge of heat and electricity jolts through Sara. But she ignores it, too taken aback by the way Ava takes a seat in the chair near Sara, her head coming to rest just on Sara’s shoulder.

Ava always likes being close, and each time she does this, Sara’s heart goes wild in her chest. Settling down, Sara tightens her grip on Ava’s hand, her cheek coming to rest just along the top of Ava’s head. As always, Ava smells like the sharp scent of jet fuel mixed in with the lingering smell of cinnamon that clings to her hair. A content sounding hum falls from Ava’s lips as she moves slightly closer in her chair, their thighs now touching.

To the side, Zari makes another noise that sounds remarkably like a scoff. Turning her head to the side, Sara levels her friend with yet another glare, only to find that Zari isn’t looking at her. “Behave,” Ava draws out quietly, her tone soft enough that only Sara can hear. If it was anyone else, Sara might ignore them. But instead, Sara backs down. Muttering under her breath, Sara rests their joined hands on her own thigh and watches on as Amaya cooks. If Zari makes another comment, Sara will find a way to curse her dresser again so it swallows her whole when she opens it—but until then, she’s fine just leaning on Ava while Amaya begins talking about tomorrow’s plans.

“I’m just saying, they should have put the warning on the movie poster,” Sara complains as she breezes out the Sinema doors, her hand caught along the handle as she carefully holds it open for Ava, “It was more than just a little disappointing to learn that the ‘Devil Wears Prada’ contained no actual devils and no actual demons.”

A quiet laugh tumbles from Ava’s lips as they set off together down the cobblestone pathway that will take them towards the Cradle. Sara’s eyes are cast down towards her feet, her eyes skimming over each paving the way, each one engraved with the good intentions humans have uttered. “It was a good movie though,” Ava comments, her arm twining around Sara’s own, her fingers finding purchase in the sleeve of the all black jacket Sara is wearing, “And you seemed to like Emily Blunt enough to sit through it.”

Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, Sara shoves both her hands in her pockets as Ava leans further into her. “She was devilishly hot,” Sara remarks absentmindedly, scuffing her toes along the charred pavement as they continue through the twisting streets, “Not all humans are entirely insufferable I guess.”

To her right, Ava makes a noncommittal sound that almost seems to catch in her throat. Looking up, Sara tries to catch sight of Ava’s face, but she’s turned away and is instead watching two young Fire and Chaos demons who are bickering over a magazine of the most recent Torturer’s Digest. “She was okay I guess,” Ava mumbles, letting out a quiet sigh as her fingers tighten in Sara’s jacket, “I wouldn’t say that she’s any better than some of the demons down here.”

A quick glance around the area proves that Ava is entirely incorrect in her judgement there. “Really?” Sara questions incredulously, nudging Ava in the side and nodding pointedly over to the Aura demon sitting on a tar covered bench, “You really think that Emily Blunt isn’t better than that?” Right on cue, the Aura demon’s face and body begin to contort, revealing a grotesque outline of what has to be a Hellhound. Shuddering slightly, Sara shakes her head, “Thank Satan Amaya got control of her unnecessary animal shifting, I don’t think I could handle that all the time.”

“Learning to shift on command takes time for Aura demons,” Ava reminds Sara, her voice teasing as Sara turns back to look at her once more, “I certainly remember how you hadn’t gained full control over your phasing when we first met.” Lightly, Sara bumps her arm into Ava’s own before sighing and leaning her head sideways on Ava’s shoulder. “You still get stuck halfway through things sometimes,” Ava continues on, stopping mid-sentence to let out a little laugh, “Remember that time you tried to phase through Nate and he—”

“Turned to metal halfway through?” Sara supplies, already grimacing as she thinks back to that day. Beside her Ava is laughing still, her shoulder shaking slightly as she does so, knocking soft blonde hair into Sara’s face. “Yes, thank you, I do remember,” Sara scowls, letting out a long sigh as she picks her head up once more and guides Ava to take a right down the next street, “That marked the first and last time I will ever try to phase through a Crucible demon.”

Ava clicks her tongue, her eyes sparkling as she turns her head Sara’s direction. “You shouldn’t be trying to phase through other demons at all,” Ava chides as Sara purses her lips, “I’m not a Dream demon but even I know that is not what you’re supposed to use your gifts for, they’re meant to help you move around Earth unseen. Dream demons are privileged to get to walk up there, so you shouldn’t use it for silly things like making sure you get the last cookie on movie nights.”

Maybe Ava has a point, and maybe Sara should have found another way to take the cookie that evening so she could have avoided being stuck tangled with Nate for an hour and a half. But she’s not willing to admit it. “Oh well,” Sara shrugs instead, once more tugging on Ava so they’re on the final path leading to the Spires, “You know me, virtues and vices, and you know I love my vices.”

That earns her another laugh from Ava, the kind that seems as if it bubbles up from Ava’s chest. The sound fills the air around them, bouncing off the jagged rocks that jut up from obsidian black streets. It’s a terrible night by the Cradle’s standards, just the kind that Sara enjoys. The skies are sprinkled with volcanic ash, the air is thick with the scent of sulfur, and the roads are drenched in shadows so dark that Sara can hardly see what’s ahead of them. It’s the kind of night where she might keep walking around if there wasn’t a chance of raining Hellfire later in the evening.

“Did you at least like the other movie that we saw?” Ava questions, her head falling to rest on Sara’s shoulder as they walk. To avoid bumping Ava’s head along her shoulder, Sara slows them down slightly, lingering for just a while longer in the dark, shrouded valley. “I’ve always liked that one,” Ava hums quietly, her fingers wiggling along Sara’s arm, “Though the title ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ is also particularly misleading in this case.”

Sara thinks that might be a slight understatement. “It was particularly insufferable and the actually hating made up less than three-fourths of the movie which you know is my minimum for that kind of thing,” Sara grumbles, casting her eyes upwards where the Morning Star has been shrouded in thick clouds of smog for the evening, “Humans are so incredibly dull, and I don’t understand the point of them getting together like that.”

From the sound Ava makes, it’s clear that she might disagree with Sara’s assessment. Seeing as they never really seem to be eye to eye when it comes to their movie choices, this doesn’t really surprise Sara. “Getting together?” Ava asks, her brows drawn as she lifts her head up from Sara’s shoulder, a frown already settled along her lips, “You mean dating.”

Resisting the urge to recoil upon hearing the word, Sara makes a face instead as she clicks her tongue. “Do they really have to name everything,” Sara complains, shaking her head in disbelief, “It was disgusting really, he embarrassed her in front of all her friends, took her on a date filled with fun, and then made her get dressed in something elegant and presentable for the dance. I'll never understand why humans like the kind of thing.”

Beside her, Ava’s steps falter, a displeased sound falling from her lips. Already bracing for the rebuttal, Sara lets out a quiet sigh under her breath. She and Ava have certainly never seen eye to eye when it comes to human conceptions of relationships, so she expects this will be no different. “Well, I liked it,” Ava argues, lifting her shoulder in a shrug, an almost frown settled along her lips, “Humans, they do things differently than we do down here, they actually attempt to ask someone out. They do all those strange things like singing songs to others and taking people out on nice dates. I don’t see the problem with that.”

“Ava,” Sara laughs out, staring back at her friend incredulously, “What you’re saying right now is blasphemy. That is what the humans do, not what demons do. We can date down here, but no demon is going to take their damned darling to the Cliffs of Oblivion for a picnic date. Demons are supposed to condemn others, not court others.”

The tight line of Ava’s lips only intensifies, this time turning into a full-blown frown. Slightly surprised by this, Sara leans back to get a better look at her. “That’s not a rule down here anymore Sara, and you know it. You just hate this because humans made the term up,” Ava states, her voice sounding tight and clipped, “And not everything the humans come up with is bad you know. Maybe if you tried to be a bit more open minded about these things, you’d see they’re not half bad.”

That’s the problem, Sara wants them to be all bad. However, there’s something in Ava’s tone that has Sara stopping in her tracks. Ava continues walking, but only for a second before she’s jerked to a step as Sara reaches out and snags Ava’s arm. “You’re upset?” Sara guesses, her eyes flickering over Ava’s. There’s a crease between Ava’s brows, a tight line along her lips, and a set to her jaw that lets Sara know that Ava is in fact upset. Sara just can’t tell what kind of upset Ava is right now.

Nervously reaching down, Sara tangles their fingers together and gives Ava’s hand a gentle squeeze. She hadn’t meant to upset Ava and she doesn’t understand why Ava finds her assessment of the movie so disagreeable. Typically, Ava might laugh it off, but this time she looks as if Sara has somehow offended her.

“No,” Ava breathes out a slow sigh, shaking her head and glancing to the side as she draws her lip between her teeth, “I’m just tired from this week, and anxious for the start of the Conservatory tomorrow—I didn’t mean to snap at you.” When Ava turns back around, there’s a smile on her face again, but this time Sara knows that it’s fake. She’s been around Ava long enough to know that when Ava’s truly happy, when she’s truly fine, her eyes light up and her smile goes slightly sideways. “I’m fine though,” Ava reassures again, her voice far too chipper now, “Let’s keep going before we get caught in a Hell Storm again.”

While Sara doesn’t buy Ava’s explanation, Ava does have a point about the weather. Everything changes so rapidly in the Cradle, and Sara doesn’t want to risk Ava getting burnt if Hellfire starts coming down. Humming to herself, Sara leaves her hand in Ava’s own and guides them along the path. As Ava starts mindlessly talking about her lesson plans, Sara can’t help but spare a few wayward glances her way as she frowns. Something is wrong with Ava, and Sara is going to try and find out the root of the problem.