Malachite leans against the cell bars, wrapping his fingers around them, not at all bothered by the others clear lack of interest. Heâd had a worse audience. âThere are far more fun ways to threaten a demon. I would know. Biting was more of a jest, a tease or a joke if you will.â He taps one of his fingers against the metal, his ring clinging softly.Â
âYou would not know. You got yourself locked up, and I,â hazels gaze deeply from the opposite side of the bars; freedom, âI am on the opposite side, untainted by the Chateau and still able to roam the streets of Crown Point as I please.â A small step forward brings them near one another, Nik leaving just a touch of distance so heâs not contaminated by the imbecile behind bars.Â
âHonestly, Iâd rather you just fucked off.â Just because he was claimed didnât mean his attitude was going to change. This was the type of person he was. This was the type of person Nikolas had claimed. He may think he could tame Zephyr, but it would be hilarious to see him FAIL. The look on is face would be priceless and he couldnât wait. âYou got an upper hand last time because I still donât have my powers, but letâs face it. Youâre a bitch. You claim me and still keep me stripped of what makes me⌠me.â If Nikolas removed the brand, maybe heâd take him more seriously, but until then, he had no reason to. He wasnât going to listen to him. They werenât friends and it would be a cold day in Hell before Zephyr even thought of him as his master. If anything, he just thought of him as a thorn in his side. Temporary. Something he could remove when he had a chance. âDonât you have Elder-y things to be doing?â
âGiving you your powers puts the whole city at risk,â an icy stare glows rampant over ancient pages, crisp and folded in his hand, âitâs not about me;Â itâs about the rest of the city. I have to uphold my duties.â The demon places the book upon the opposite cushion, raising to his feet to stride towards the bed, eyes glazing in awe of the boyâs desecrated wings. âYou can talk all you want,â the Elder places his hand against Zephyrâs damaged claim, pressure in his fingertips reverberate a daunting amount of heat against the wound, âbut just remember everything youâve ever said has led you straight into my clutches. In fact, you should be thanking me for taking you out of the Chateau; I canât imagine the comfort level was abundant.â The brunetteâs hand moves from Zephyrâs wings to his thighs, lighting a small fire between them in an effort to rile the boy, if only to make him jump, âMy freedom is respected more than what is required of me. Neither of which are a part of your worries.â
âAre you going to keep staring or are you waiting for your musical number?â Malachite smiles, teasing the other, "I promise I wonât bite unless you ask me to.â
A lethargic blink, hazels scantily grazing the brunetteâs body with indifference, âBite? Youâre of the wrong specie to threaten something as futile.â Nik is finding it difficult to believe one of his own is a slave; his lips purse disgustedly.Â
Having his own room was⌠weird. He would rather be back at the Chateau instead of sitting here, unsure of what he was allowed to even do. He hadnât been given rules, which was probably a good thing. It wasnât like heâd follow them in the first place. The bed was more comfortable than heâd like to give it credit for, but his wings still hurt, which put a lot of pressure on his body. The fact they were still bloodied drove him nuts, but he couldnât exactly clean them. The brand wasnât going to come off. He knew this. He had to give the demon credit where it was DUE. He had certainly fucked up Zephyr more than he originally imagined he would have. @elderbaal
The demon is void of vexation though if he were able to express any sort of emotion that may be the closest to his current irritability. For the moment, despite his distaste in the matter, Nik has located Zephyr to the room beside his own, giving the both of them their own space for the time being. This is not, however, how he plans to leave the layout, but it is the best compromise at the moment. His own living space is currently being renovated by a few from the town to better accommodate his needs. Meanwhile, the Nephilim is still being tamed by the Elder and his patience for being woken up in the middle of the night by a fighting brat is far from desirable or practical. The chestnut door of Zephyrâs room swings open, slamming against the wall on impact, Nikâs nose is attentively perched within an aged book as he enters the boyâs room, making himself at home on a small couch across from the blondeâs bed. âIf it doesnât still sting, I can change that.â
Quint hummed, rolling his one eye at the other. âMhm. I am sure that is, uh, fun.â He replied, moving to walk back to his office. âYa need a toy, go get a guard and make sure ya pay for that pesterin.â The wolf replied, not willing to play with an entitled elder.
âNot that you would know considering you have the personality of a botfly,â his index finger massages the side of his nose when turning toward Quint, unamused by the otherâs response. âGuards seldom live up to my standards, might I add.â
The blonde rolled her eyes and then hissed when he let go of her âTo think that Iâm a slut is wrong, you use the word incorrectlyâŚâ she said carefully, sensing what he was. âI donât need any kind of sexual prowess with whoever finds their fancy with me, when I have shared my body with no one here. I merely live to serve as a solider , regardless of what your judgement is of meâ she snapped back at him.Â
No, he used the word correctly, her interpretation of his connotation is what is incorrect. Nikâs hand wipes against the pant of his leg, eyebrows pulling together in disgust that he has stooped to such a piteous level of allowing himself the hankering to touch unclaimed property, âItâs a shame no one informed you the true purpose of a slave.â She canât honestly think she wonât be used for more than simple duties. Slaves were used for every such purpose and most of the mistresses and masters in town were keen on obtaining the full-package.Â
I NIKOLASÂ take full responsibility for the slave ZEPHYR. I understand that from this point on his/her actions reflect me and therefore my Elder. I will punish my slave as I see fit but should the punishment not fit the crime I understand that the Elders may step in. With this in mind, I pay the sum of the slaves worth to the city, knowing should I take his/her life I must pay this sum again as it will be a loss to the city. I am an Elder.
Iâm sure heâll be dragged back. Not so sure heâll be breathing, however. Enjoy it.Â
Privacy is far from abundant in Crown Point. Everyone knows everyoneâs business, and nothing is left unheard which is particularly why the demon has flown so fervently under radar to avoid such indiscretion. The many times heâd rented the Nephilim were sparse, but never unwarranted. He would come in the night, take the boy home and dispose of him properly the next day. Even the chateau knew nothing of his antics â that is how circumspective the demon has become.Â
The current night is waning, full moon in the sky, Nikâs home burns a radiant lavender throughout the halls â scents filling his lungs. On his wall heâs already mounted trophies of his numerous victims; some framed, others solely their entire head mounted on the stairwell. They are an object to admire â which is exactly what they were when they were alive but now, they have become of actual use. He has kidnapped the blonde, though this time, he isnât planning to bring him back. It has been a long time coming, Nik has wanted to claim the slave and call him his own, but he had to be sure that it was worth his while. Zephyr has taken many hits, punishments, and torture sessions well; each time challenging the demon to push further.Â
Dark magic current swirls around the blondeâs wrists and ankles, suspending him in Nikâs study, each limb completely jutted out, the boyâs body exposed to the demonâs touch. Eyes as black as coal seep a daunting gaze in the Nephilimâs direction, his tongue thirsting for blood. Talons cascade the blondeâs skin, scarring his tissue with solidified lacerations that will last for a lifetime. The heat from the flames on Nikâs fingertips singe flesh with each slice. The smell is revolting, littering the air like a bout of radiation. He ignites in his hand a single utensil that will annihilate any fiber known to man or supernatural being upon impact. With it grasped between his fingers, he steps behind the boy, bringing it up to the ethereal wings he claims so much as his, tearing off one feather at a time until the mark of the demon elder is intricately scavenged across the boyâs span, seeping blood into his cherry floors, dripping from the boyâs angelic wings.Â
Nik crosses his arms, eyes ablaze with the ember pen gripped between his fingers. His claim has been set. Flames burn beneath the blonde, licking violently at his toes, the demonic essence trying to profess something so pure and virtuous.Â
âNow, you are mine. Your body is mine; these,â heat and all glides through the remaining feathers on the boyâs set of elegant wings, âare mine. I have claimed you and the entirety of Crown Point will now know you as my slave. My property.â
Las had pretty much given up in all respects of slave life, she hated not having orders, she hated having nothing to do with her time, there was no destruction and in the endâŚ.No reward from her Master. The blonde only chuckled as she felt the other persons hand grip her throat, bringing her back to reality âYou may as well give up, Iâm never going to play with the unworthyâ she said simply, giving a low unhinged chuckle.
Sincerely, the greed to feel a pulse beneath his fingertips is solely why he had wrapped his hand vehemently around the blondeâs throat. She thinks heâs toying, but really, heâs simply grasping for reassurance. A release is given, an eyebrow arching in her response, âI donât have time for spiteful, flippant sluts such as yourself. I just needed your throat for a second.âÂ
âYa can go to any of the guards if ya need somethin.â The wolf gruffed out, thick arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the other. âAint seein why ya need to pester me.â
âOh,â he guffaws, a rumble in his throat, eyes cascading the animalâs features, âI like to âpesterâ those lesser than me in an effort to intellectually abolish them. Some are so mindless they donât even realize itâs happening.â
âI feel like you say that to all the boys.â If there was one thing most people knew about him by now, it was that he didnât listen. Nor did he stay put. If he wasnât on a LEASH, there was a strong possibility heâd be gone by the time you even noticed and being with Lucifer during this time hadnât changed how he worked. He may know better than to run right now, but that didnât mean he wouldnât if the chance popped up. His interactions with Nikolas had been anything but great and he had a feeling if the demon had actually been around when the city had been hit, his injuries probably would have been worse. âBreathing in your direction is bound to happen regardless of the way you look at it. After all. I may not be free, but the air I breathe CERTAINLY is.â Truth be told, Zephyr disappeared from Luciferâs home because he wasnât there and he wanted to survey the city and see what the damage actually was. During the attack, he had killed a dozen masters and mistresses, and probably a handful of civilians, but he hadnât looked at the structure damages. He had been too busy trying to keep himself alive while everyone else had tried to run.
âI can charge for your breaths,â the seriousness in his voice engulfs the thickness in the atmosphere. Shall he start with cutting off fingers, plucking the Nephilimâs wings feather by feather, or perhaps for each breath, one wing is chopped off. That, fortunately, will only give the blonde two before heâs completely stripped of the only thing that makes him a commodity in Crown Point. The demonâs tongue laps his bottom lip as he traces burning embers through his gaze, eyes concentrated on Zephyrâs breaths, counting them. âNow youâre at five. Maybe I should begin taking the less important organs away from you. Stripping you of necessities. Itâs a shame no oneâs put a leash on you and forced you to stay put. Youâre like a feral dog, in need of a sturdy hand and induced fear and respect.âÂ
Flames encompass the demonâs hand, his footsteps drawing forward, a hand presses against Zephyrâs cheek and before the blonde can pull away, heâs already singed a small section of the boyâs skin as a warning. The demon pulls away rapidly, eyes tracing with vigor and hunger towards the creatureâs wings that he finds mesmerizing beyond comprehension. âThose would look lovely above my mantle.â
Tall, dark features, he smelled not of death, but similar to her old master. âDemon. Should have known. Canât get away from your species it seems.â She had no manners for those who were not worth her time or energy. However she was amused by him. His words seems to be thick with arrogance and an underlying tone of boredom. Yet he was here. âYou spoil me with such empty words. I have no master anymore. That bond was destroyed long ago. Now I am here. Stuck within these walls which were built in an attempt to keep you away fro those who wish to rip your hearts out. And you fill it with those of us who want nothing to do with you or, for some, want your head on a stake.â This time the smoke from her her lungs left and was aimed at the manâs face. Making sure it would hit him. How interesting and intriguing this one was. He made no attempts to hit her nor did he even want to bother with her it seemed. âMelancholy, peaceful isnât it? Nights with no people, no noise, just the darkness. Of course in this god awful city sleep seems like the deep ocean. There, but not enough to exist for us like we need. Yet also filled with sadness that aches of loneliness.âÂ
Violet met his hazel gaze and grinned holding the burning cancer stick between them. âTwo seconds. Two seconds and I could put this through your eye. However on the third second youâd probably react and snap my wrist and shove it down my throat.â Her head tilted letting a few blonde strands fall. âThen again is a fight really want we want? I prefer to fight dirty, make my partner bleed. So using this,â She put the butt back to her lips to take the last drag. âWould be boring and a waste.â Opening her mouth she let her tongue poke out slightly as she brought the ember burning end down on it for two seconds then again in another spot. Her gaze not leaving his. She then tossed the butt to the ground. âMy master always hated using ash trays. Then again he found a love of burning my hips. Loved the way I jumped and moaned from the tickling sensation.â
To be grouped in one specie is a disgrace â though he takes pride in being the Elder Demon, it isnât something he boasts about in regards to those desperately beneath him. The other demons have brought a bad reputation upon themselves, forcing Nik to pick up the various pieces left in desolation. âPutting my head on a stake doesnât really kill me,â his eyebrow raises as if condescendingly belittling her is in his utmost pastimes, âthis is simply a vessel so all can see me, but not my true form. So you can hack away at my head until itâs a stump, but how to correctly kill me is obviously above your intelligence.â The plume she blows gathers within his nostrils, a sharp inhale blisters across his lungs, lighting them up like fireworks on Independence Day. The Elder lets the smell linger amongst his thoughts, moderately tuning out her every word as if possibly putting any sort of effort into the conversation has been cumbersome.
The threats are piteous. Impressing Nik takes a lot and the blonde isnât supplying his needs. A sense of disinterest fogs his gaze as she speaks about the cigarette, burning her own tongue. Is it some sort of ploy or gimmick to elicit him to fear her? Clearly, her master gave no care in the world to actually controlling his claim. This is why all that resided below the demonâs power did not survive long. Nik didnât bother with letting slaves free or allowing them any sense of individuality. They were nothing more than an additional being who allowed him to do as he pleased and dispose of when ennui settled in.Â
Her term partner insinuates there is an equality between a master and a slave and this idea alone is a mirthful thought. Once again, her master is a disgrace to Crown Point and Nik will find it in his best interest to seek the useless individual out and dispose of them properly before they can make their irreversible mark and begin to discredit all other masters who, frankly, reign up to the title otherwise. Absurdity dances across the demonâs eyes as he stares on, boring holes into the blonde. She couldnât possibly think for a second she stands a chance when her master before hardly had any amount of grasp on her. âIt sounds like your master was a fellow slave,â the words flatline, a heartbeat unable to be resurrected by a defibrillator.
Middle of the night and she slipped out of the masterâs place. For some reason they thought putting her in a place without extra security was a good idea. As if. Aside from the brand upon her skin making it impossible to leave the city, she was free to do as she pleased. Violet growled happily as she took off down the street. Her foot steps echoing on the side walk as she felt the wind hitting her face. Stopping just on the edge of the city she looked out. How close she was. If she wanted to die she would run. Instead she lit a cigarette inhaling the smoke, grinning as it filled her lungs and gave her hat high.Â
Blue eyes stuck on the glowing end end as she exhale the smoke. âSo small yet so pleasurable if used correctly.â She said out loud as sensed and smelled the other. Her lips met the tan end again as she took in another hit. âIâm not running donât worry.â Lifting her shirt to reveal the brand on her hip. âFuckers made it impossible.â Turning herself to face the other she raised a brow. Of course. A master. âDoing the guards work I see. Guess your security does suck here.â
Chuckling within his throat reverberates resoundingly before she speaks. Her demeanor is just enough to draw him in, enough to keep him at a distance. Curiosity killed the cat after all, and though she is a dog, the concept remains the same. Eldritch hazels focus on the smoke, blinking slowly as if missing something in that moment might deter from his absorbance of their encounter. âIâm no tattletale,â he places a palm skyward as if to show some sort of indifference or camaraderie. Her leaving her master or vicinity of rest is none of his concern, nor does it affect him negatively enough to forego some sort of intervention.Â
Her comment begins without subtlety, no amusement absorbs; âMany things prove to be valuable in that way.â The demonâs eyes darting towards the heavens, scanning the speckled sky. Pleasure was a surefire place for Nik to place his two cents, desired or not, he always feels it is his purpose to intervene. âThough,â pause, a sharp clack of the tongue echoes through the trees, âitâs not my fault your master finds you repugnant and useless. What a shame theyâve wasted all of that time and money, all for nothing.â A head shake ensues, his hazels trail back to the blonde, words sharpening with each syllable.  Â
Clouded by despair, a silent longing for retribution within the city lingers. One who has bought many slaves in the past -- though no survivors -- scours the streets for fresh blood. It has been a long, challenging task to uphold the indecencies that so-called protected Crown Point, but the zeal inside is boiling over, despite the wooden spoon being placed across the top of the pot. Perched precariously in his grasp, the Elder holds a misty glass sloshing with bourbon. Sips of it prove trying as he scopes individuals out, risking his attention elsewhere to places he less than desires. Seldom would Nikolas settle for less than the very best, but his peaked interests run rampant when approaching a small cluster of creatures. Silence ponders longingly in his throat, a cold, desolate, demonizing stare obliterates the beings as they chat amongst themselves. A crisp curdle between his lips slithers before he speaks, words enunciated with hollowing diction so crystalline, it could shatter a frozen lake, âBreathing in my direction is costly.âÂ
âThe cameras in the Chateau do not lie.â He grinned. They were used for security purposes, but most of them no longer worked. Sooner or later heâd get into the Chateau and fix them, but until then, this was his life. Following the rumors. Watching the video. Seeing Nikâs interest in the Nephilim. âHeâs very pretty, Nikolas. I almost rented him a few times but his mouth is a rather big turn off for me, but I know you enjoy the pretty ones that talk back.â He always had a handful of questions when it came to the Nephilim. Did they have wings? As a warlock, he assumed he didnât have the sight to see such a beautiful celestial being. âYou never need a reason for alcohol, dear.â
âThe only turn on you get is slipping in my sheets,â an eyebrow cocks in the brunetteâs direction, a slithering smirk among petals pressed firmly together; he holds a chuckle in his throat, orbs darting away from the current conversation. As always, heâs seldom liked anyone in his business, especially someone who holds knowledge he doesnât care to be spread. âThe boyâs only useful if he can withstand and survive. Otherwise, itâs like all the others - pitiful, recalcitrant beings who have wasted my selective time.âÂ
His head felt fuzzy. Usually did after that kind of treatment it did and it didnât help that the guards had dragged him back and hurled him back into his cell. Austin had collided with his own cot before sliding to the floor in a daze. Stubbornly, he only stayed like that for a few moments before rolling to his side and attempting to make his way back to a vertical base.
Metal clangs, reverberation in his ear drums burns his eyes, the color reddening within the whites. A gaze scatters behind the bars, scouring the area as if something viable might materialize into thin air - Nik would be ecstatic were that the case. âYou can barely take a beating and you expect to survive here?â thereâs a scoff in his throat, hazels bedazzled by the sight before him. Itâs been rare to see men who canât hold their ground against the guards.Â
