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It was the 31st of October, more aptly known as Halloween, and the world was aglow with a thousand flickering candles. Well, in truth it wasn’t the world that glowed, but rather the ballroom that one still figure found herself standing within the midst of a swelling crowd. This figure while far from imposing on the outside, was truly a force to be reckoned with behind the habitual daily mask that she always wore. She was natural of stature, with an elegant aura and eyes that sparked brighter than winter lightning. But it was the smile she always kept firmly in place that marked her apart from the other women who currently twirled around her in wanton abandon. The expression while observed as overly warm, was in truth deficient. The emotion was balanced but lacked the sincerity it would take to be considered happy. It was a copied expression; nothing more and for the close observer the realization would have made their blood turn to ice. This woman, this creature wasn’t human. Her withdrawn manner was just a taste of the coldness that lay beneath her prosaic appearance.
She was a being of shadow, though she now stood in one of the brighter parts of the ballroom. She was a demon and currently she was freed from the toil of serving a human master- a fact that she truly relished. For she wasn’t a fiend that particularly liked making contracts, and surely wasn’t one who took captivity lightly. She was one to run wild and untamed; to stand at the edge of a cliff and jump from it while others quickly moved back to safety. She was a risk taker and a crafty one at that. And as she watched the countless humans spin by her in their lively dance, the demoness felt the prickling of adventure tingle down her spine.
They were all so beautiful: these fragile creatures with their hearts on their sleeves. They were predictable in almost every way, but they could also surprise you without even trying. It was what made them so delicious when they were so mundane. The probability of uncovering something truly delightful beneath the façade. To find truth in a world of deception. It was pure intoxication and the she-demon let her (e/c) eyes take in the faces of each of the people who moved past her. She admired the mortal’s blemishes as well as their perfection, before her gaze came to rest upon a dancing couple several yards away.
At first glance they seemed like a normal pair; the demoness instantly knew different. The young lady that giggled carelessly, blonde and fair of complexion, was cheery and sweet- something that the demon always found pleasure in when it came to humans . . . But it was the boy who danced with her that captured the creature’s attention and gave her pause . . . physically he was delicate, exquisite- but it was the hidden knowledge behind the lad’s single startling blue eye that told the story the demon sought. It was a frozen orb, ancient for one so young, and shone with the devastation of several lifetimes. But despite what should have been- the shadowy being saw not a broken, despairing child, but a calculated, glacial young man with the contented fire of conviction burning bright. Though the boy had obviously survived some terrible tragedy, there was not a sane person alive who would have coddled or pitied him. From the ashes of whatever had happened to him, the boy had risen to take back what had been stolen. The sight was nothing but awe-inspiring to the demon as she watched him calmly deal with his squealing lady friend and dance in a stiff shuffle.
“My, what a terrible dancer my poor Master makes. But I suppose not everyone is born with the grace that is needed to successfully waltz.” The demon slowly turned her head, regarding the figure that had silently come to stand beside her. Curiously, the woman lifted a brow of question as she let her mind catch up with what he had said. It took a special sort of person to sneak up on her, and an even madder one to approach her without her invitation. But after a mere second of contemplation, she understood and a look of approval crossed her beautiful face.
“You do brilliant work, sir,” she complimented as she meaningfully returned her gaze back to the boy and his dance partner. “I commend you on your talents. He is beautiful.”
“My Lady gives far too much credit,” the figure beside her returned with humor, as he too turned to watch the dancers. “My Master came this way. In no way did I shape him.”
The demoness smile grew, as the unspoken threat was made clear behind his cordial words. And finally she looked at him again, taking in the details of his appearance.
He was tall and lithe, with raven hair and eyes redder than a New Year’s Wine. He wore tasteful clothes that obviously belonged to a high-end servant, but the woman knew better than to believe such a harmful ensemble. He was like her: an enigma of darkness, though he was sadly collared and chained. The she-demon had never expected to cross the path of one such as him in a place like this, and her surprise flickered briefly through her (e/c) eyes.
“Your Master is unique,” she said sincerely before adding, “Though you needn’t worry. I have no intention of trying to steal him from you.”
The man laughed, his wine eyes lighting with absolute amusement. “I am glad to hear it, my lady. For I do believe my Master is a bit young for the wares that you would sell.”
It was now the female’s turn to laugh, as her eyes crinkled merrily around the corners. It would seem that the fiend who now watched her reaction was more observant than he had first appeared. He had figured out what kind of demon she was from a mere moment of being in her company.
“You would be correct, sir,” she said once her laughter had subsided. “He is quite young for the services I tend to extend. . . Besides, he is well taken care of in his needs.”
The demon gave her a surprisingly warm smile as he inclined his head to her. “You are too kind.”
“Only to those who deserve it.” She dipped her head to match him, before asking with interest, “Might I ask what you specialize in, sir? I must admit you have fully intrigued me.”
“I concentrate on what my lord wishes, and make his demands a reality,” came the cheeky reply.
“As do all of our kind, handsome,” she teased. “But what of your gifts? What does your Master wish for?”
“Retribution and an end to his bad memories.”
The she-demon was silent for a moment, knowing full well what he meant. There were 7 types of demons in the world, and it would seem that her new acquaintance was one of the more powerful casts.
Wrath. He gave his contracts revenge and power for their slights. He was one who would never be freed from his mortal-bound chains for his services would forever be needed.
Wrath, Pride, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, Greed, and then me, she thought looking at the other demon with appreciative eyes.
“If it is not rude to ask, my dear, what are you doing in such an overcrowded dancing hall on the Devil’s Holiday,” he asked breaking her momentarily revelry.
“. . . Merely trying to scratch an itch.”
“You have no contract?”
“I was never one to be leashed.”
He chuckled softly at. “But surely you enjoy the results of such an agreement, my lady?”
Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she looked at him playfully. “But why make such a deal when I get the benefits for free?”
To prove her point, the she-demon let her index finger gently raise and slide across his cheek, before she withdrew and looked at him pointedly. Though outwardly the wrathful one remained the picture of relaxed ease, she knew better for the intrigue in his eyes was impossible to miss. It was true that demons weren’t romantic creatures, but even the highest of demons, if faced with the right opposition, were known to take a mate. Not that the demoness openly considered such things . . .
“You make a resplendent point, my dear,” he replied, before he acted quickly and caught her off guard. With well-practiced hands the male pulled his prey to him (a hand at her waist and one taking her hand) before he twirled them out into the midst of flying dancers. For a breath they were close enough for their lips to meet, but just as the female was about to lean forward, he dipped her down and she laughed at his blunt teasing.
“If you wished to dance with me you could have merely said so,” she badgered him as he brought her back up to face him. She noticed his wine colored eyes matched hers in playfulness as he leaned in again and let his nose lightly brush against hers.
“But we’ve no chaperone, my lady. And I was unable to inquire about you to one who knows you. I would hate for your reputation to be slandered by a misunderstanding.”
“Goodness, what a gentleman,” she breathed rubbing her nose against his before she spun herself out and around so that she was facing outward and the male was holding her to him. “But I fear I find myself in doubt, sir. I don’t even know my chivalrous knights’ name.”
He chuckled again, a deep growling purr in the back of his throat, before he whispered in her ear. “My Master christened me Sebastian Michaelis, my lady. . . And what name is it that you have taken?”
“(F/n), (Full name),” she offered as her hips and feet moved with a mind of their own.
“(F/n) . . .” Sebastian tested her name on his tongue before he made another pleased noise. “What an unusual moniker for a Lust demon who refuses to take contracts.”
“And Sebastian is an odd name for a Wrathful one such as you, my dear. But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Indeed they cannot,” the male said as he once more spun her around to face him, making her aware of the gloves that covered his hands that held her firmly. Gloved hands; most likely meaning his contract seal was hidden underneath. . . it made her eager to break his chain. . . or at least try.
“I may not take on full contracts,” she divulged while reaching up to lace one of her hands behind his neck. “But for you I might be willing to make an exception.”
For a long moment, the two demons stared at one another, one waiting and the other considering, before the latter sighed imperceptibly and shook his elegant head in refusal.
“You tempt me, my dear. . . But my duty must remain with my young Master until the end.”
(F/n) had anticipated such an answer, though she still felt the niggling at the back of her mind as the smallest bit of disappointment set in.
“Your boy is lucky to have such a faithful butler,” the demoness replied before leaning up and placing a soft kiss to Sebastian’s cheek. “Though it saddens me that a devastatingly beautiful one such as yourself is chained up.”
Sebastian was silent as she pulled away from him, not offering an apology or a way of explanation- for both already knew that he was comfortable in his state of servitude. He lived for his contracts, and nothing was going to change that. And despite her regret at his choice, (F/n) couldn’t bring herself to fault him for it.
As the lovely female now stood apart from him, Sebastian lowered into a formal bow before giving her a respectful expression. “Thank you for the dance, Madame. It has been most educational.”
(F/n) curtsied with a small sigh. “Goodbye, handsome, until the day you finally free yourself.”
“Until we meet again, my lady,” he promised, as the demoness turned on her heel and walked away from him.
(F/n) she had originally come to the Ball to find someone to prey off of, but the woman now found that her appetite was completely gone. So she left the gaily lit ballroom and the carefree revelries behind; entering into the chilled Halloween night with a satisfied smile on her full lips.
Though they had just met, a spark had most certainly been kindled between herself and the Wrath-demon. And (F/n) knew that no matter how long she had to wait, that she would never truly forget Sebastian Michaelis. . . even if he was a tamed pet on a chain.