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Sometimes Sammy has bad days.
Down in this inky realm, Sammy is alone. His sheep are not people - not anymore.
Though he enjoys when he's alone, with no one to bother and frustrate him, Sammy wonders what it's all for some days.
Freedom, yes.
But how do you continuously praise and believe in someone who has never once tried to help you before?
The Ink Demon. He needs a sacrifice, or so is said. Sammy has tried.
Once upon a time, his own eyes. That never hindered his sight, but they never came back either.
Another, a willing lost one desperate for freedom.
Neither worked. His Lord did not answer his summoning.
This time?
Sammy kneels in the center of the pentagram with his maskless face facing the floor. Lit candles decorate the corners, and for once his mask is cast aside.
Sammy's voice is eerily quiet when he speaks; "hear me, Bendy. Arise from the darkness; arise, and claim this sweet sacrifice I so freeingly offer you. I summon you, Ink Demon. Show your face, and take what is being given to you!"
Nothing.
Sammy scoffs. A waste of time and energy. Pathetic, so pathetic. How foolish was he to believe in such a thing!
But an inky doorway opens upon the wall in front of him. He gasps when a clawed hand grapples onto the wall, a gloved one joining adjacent, and together they heave a towering body through.
Sammy wants to cheer, to say something, but he's stopped only by the knowledge that Bendy is here for one thing. His sacrifice.
Yes. Sammy belatedly realizes, as the excitement dwindles, that… it worked.
All it took was himself.
But the Ink Demon does not immediately go for the kill as expected. Instead, He lowers himself onto all fours and prowls toward Sammy with a tilt of His head.
That perfect grin, oh so perfect, is unsettling.
Sammy stares in awe, feeling no fear, thinking that this will be the last thing he sees - and what a satisfying way to go. Devoured by his Lord in the hopes for freedom.
But instead, Bendy butts his massive head against Sammy's chest harmlessly. Sammy flinches at the contact and his arms raise in alarm, hovering uncertainly.
A chittering purr rumbles from his Lord. No. I will not kill you.
Oh.
"Then why?" Sammy asks, throat dry. "Why now?"
Bendy rumbles a growl. I have never seen anyone as devoted as you.
He pulls back to stare at Sammy and tilt his head. His Lord chatters. It's foolish.
Ah.
"I know."
That grin seems to widen, twistedly satisfied with the defeat in his tone.
The Ink Demon purrs, pressing his head against Sammy's chest. And then he lies his head on Sammy's lap.
Sammy's hands are raised still, for he's unsure on where to place them. Certainly not on his Lord, no. That'd be forbidden.
Sammy has a purring, docile - for now - Ink Demon in his lap. His Lord, for that matter!
When Sammy broke down and foolishly tried to summon the Ink Demon in his desperation, he was not expecting to be answered. He would have preferred, maybe, if he were ignored. If Sammy were in a better mindset, maybe he'd be more ecstatic that his Lord was giving him the attention he's craved for so long.
Right now? … Sammy just feels particularly empty.
Because after all of his attempts, why has his Lord only decided to show himself when Sammy is at his worst?
Bendy grunts in dissatisfaction. He pulls away from Sammy and tilts his head.
The Demon seats himself with crossed legs, and he seems to be considering something. Then a clawed hand grasps Sammy's arm and yanks him forward. The inky man stumbles in surprise, catching himself on his Lord's boney knees before he's pulled further into the Demon's lap.
The Ink Demon rumbles a growl. You are… warm.
Sammy is quite literally manhandled and repositioned by his Lord. Bendy turns him so that his back is to the Demon's chest, and lean, gangly arms wrap around his stomach and hold him close. He doesn't bother to resist.
"Am I?" Sammy answers after a moment of recovery. Naturally, his Lord is strong.
The Ink Demon's only response is a purr and lying his head on top of Sammy's own. He's not putting very much weight into it, because Sammy is sure he'd not be able to support that massive skull otherwise.
Does the Ink Demon know that he's warm? Uncomfortably so, almost boiling, and Sammy squirms in his Lord's lap for that.
This only results in being held tighter.
Great.
Sammy finally lowers his hands, placing them over the Ink Demon's long arms that remain firmly wrapped around him. His Lord purrs approvingly, the sound vibrating his very being.
With nothing else to do but sit there, Sammy tries to relax.
He's not sure how long they sit like this. The Ink Demon soaking up his warmth, while Sammy listens to the gurgly purring that rumbles from him.
After a while, Sammy begins to tap a gentle staccato rhythm against his Lord's arm as they sit there in silence, experimentally trying to match it in tune to the Demon's purr. He hums lowly in time with his tapping.
At some point, Bendy peers around to watch his hand work curiously. Sammy's rhythm stutters momentarily at the audience before it continues.
That sounds nice.
Sammy's heart swells with pride. His Lord is listening to him! He wasn't a maestro for nothing - music was everything to him, one of the very few things that could make him happy back in the studio days if he remembers right. The Prophet did still play a few of the old instruments down here.
He knows that the Ink Demon gets easily annoyed with noise if it's even a touch too loud or out of the ordinary. To know that his Lord is listening to him now - and enjoying it, that makes Sammy happy.
Sammy is content to stay like this for however long his Lord pleases.
Alas, things will soon return to how they were, and his Lord will continue to wait for the most perfect sacrifice and ignore all of Sammy's unworthy ones. Now Sammy's will to please Him has been reignited, and he's forgotten why he was even upset in the first place.
Until the next bad day.
It's always a cycle, is it not?