She seemed to be having a greater reaction to the fire than he'd originally anticipated. The fear of burning alive was something most people could understand, but this? This was more than just the fear of burning, this was deeper, as if it was someone far more vulnerable to the flames. It wouldn't just destroy her body but her mind as well? No doubt someone who'd known their kiss some time before. The flames had a way of getting into the soul, blackening it and exploding into that pale white just like the flesh itself.
And Satan would of course remember the creation of man and woman. Their forms, Adam and Lilith. He remembered falling alongside Mammon and the others, his hatred and rage growing over the years, betrayed, abandoned by his creator, Michael never seeing justice for what was done to him.
All that time and God chose to make a new creation, those wretched human bastards, and how he loved and favored them. How even in their twisted and imperfect flesh the son would come to redeem them.
Indeed, his creator loved men and women more than they loved Satan and his friends, that was why few things brought him more joy than ripping them apart, having them damned to Hell and torturing them into nothingness.
And that was when things changed, that was when whatever sexual desire to dominate that had been was flung to the wayside as she became the focal point for his all being. She was the source of his wrath, the burning core of his hate.
The flames would flicker, not giving a damn about what she did, if she was going to be limp then she would be devoured without a movement or sound. They'd slithered about her like living serpents before they finally traveled down her arms, burning and splintering her wooden appendages with a snap and crackle akin to bonfire int he middle of some winter night.
The flames would travel down her arms and consume her body that her face was the only thing not to be devoured, his face would move forward, focused and mesmerized as if his skull was about to burst from his head. The flames would suddenly disappear, her charred body falling to the ground. He would give her but a few moments, extending a palm that restored her lovely form, even going so far as to repair her clothes.
And then her body was engulfed in fire again. Oh he was going to enjoy this!
" SCREAM YOU DISGUSTING ANIMAL! SCREAM! CALL ME YOUR FUCKING GOD AND SCREAM! "
Yogirt was not saying a damn thing.
Nope. Do not perceive them at all thank you very much.
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2087
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