Evil Incarnate.

Idris ( Chernobog ) & Silas ( Belebog )

[latenghtdevil]

the-mist-coming-in​:

*

“Careless threats lead to careless mistakes.”

Mary’s warning lay seriously at the pit of her advice. Her hands hardened against Idris’ skin before he was released, the footsteps of his prey scattering away in the distance. It was a fatal flaw of the demon’s needs - hearts could not be taken by force. They were strong, humanity fought against his darkness naturally - one of the greatest differences between her kind and theirs. Hearts must be willingly given over, it was her theory, and those terror-filled feet would be happy to never see Idris again.

“While you have lived off dregs, I have done quite well for myself, and I am well-equipped to interfere as much as I like. Would you like to see my new tricks?” As Mary had grown more powerful, so had her magic, and she raised a hand happily so that the alley behind them grew fuzzy, faint. “Not a single picture needed, and see.” It came into focus, them, from moments before, a replay she played of her jerking him back with her umbrella handle again and again and again. “I wonder how many of your maneuvers I could go back and change… I haven’t tried, but, for you, dear Idris, I would relish in it.”

“You killed those children, you kept him from me for 100 years - and I am so very eager to repay the favor.” 

The demon rolled his eyes at her words, the corner of his lips twitching in disgust at the lameness. “Not unless those tricks involve a disappearing act,” he growled angrily, his blood boiling over her demonstration of her growing power. His jaw tightened, pearlescent teeth grinding against one another. “There’s not enough power in the world for you to be able to undo my influence on the world. But I’ll be frank with you, Mary, I forgot you existed. Give me enough time, and I’ll be sure to make that a fact.”

“My apologies - “ he began, his voice littered with spite to indicate how un-sorry he was. “I’ve killed a lot of people. I think you’ll have to be more specific.  Or -- no wait, I don’t really care.” He stopped to think, recalling the event she spoke of briefly before continuing with a chuckle on his lips, “It’s cute that you think I kept him away - even though it was because of your lovely assistance in breaking my brother’s concentration that I was even able to lash out to get my revenge for sabotaging my schemes. He had plenty of opportunity to come find you, you know. But did he? No, in his head, he can’t afford the distraction. Too bad he’s still losing.”

[latenghtdevil]

the-mist-coming-in​:

Mary stepped neatly into the alley, shadows consuming the space but her eyes easily sought out the man she had come for. Idris was never one to lower himself to hunching - and yet his being seemed to surround the poor soul with him. Barely human now, the demon’s tendrils had wound their way deep into his heart and she was intimately aware of what was happening at this very moment. A heart, the very one that beat in the man’s chest, being strangled out by darkness, the oxygen that gave him life replaced with twilight - as midnight set in Prentiss Town, it set in this man’s world, and there would be nothing more Mary could do.

Quickly she lifted her umbrella, flinging it out so that the hook caught his elbow and jerked the demon back into her arms. “Idris, my love, a dance?”

How long had it been since she had been this close to them? Since she had stared into his eyes, gazed upon his face? A soft hand cupped his cheek while the other held him firmly against her. Silas was in there, and she leaned in, kissing him gently before scolding Idris, “That was not for you.”

Mary glanced over her shoulder at his victim where he lay frail upon the ground. “And you and I shall be having a discussion later about choosing better friends. Now run along before I change my mind and let him have you.”

-

Chernobog. A demon, a primordial being, the manifestation of bad fate -- Thought to be the god of darkness by the Slavs when he rampaged their country and brought a spell of terror and fear upon him. He was insatiable in his limitless hunger, only appeased when the earth was reduced to ash. The dark ages he ruled with an iron fist -- until his brother - Belobog, of light and auspicious fate - his polar opposite, brought his reign of darkness to a temporary end. The two entwined in eternal battle, Chernobog trying to overrule light with darkness, and Belobog, determined to keep his chaotic brother in check.  

Idris was on the rise again. Darkness began to creep and spread through the lands, and he fed off of every hateful and despicable act committed by mortals on the verge of evil. Power between him and his brother had begun to sway in his favor and he grew more and more insatiable as his appetite could never be quenched. 

He had another in the clutches of his hands, a tainted heart he’d groomed, ripe for devouring. It could be -- with this soul, balance would be tipped fully into his favor, but seconds before he’d completed the terrible act, something hooked him on the elbow, pulling him from his victim.

Rage boiled up from deep within him at the interruption and the boldness of the woman who’d stepped within his way. His eyebrows furrowed, jaw tightening at the kiss she’d thrust upon him. Before he had enough time to recover from the surprise, he saw at the corner of his eye his victim scurry away.

“Mary,” he growled, a deep gruffness in his voice, “Just as the turning of the seasons is inevitable, so was my return. You’ve no right to interfere with my business. Leave or I’ll end your time with this host of yours prematurely.”

[latenghtdevil]

the-mist-coming-in​:

*

“Let me be very clear - I never run.”

Mary stepped around the small corner that separated her from the voice… her ears listened intently to words that were so very wrong. Perhaps she should have ran - but she never could resist a nice mystery. Her eyes scanned quickly, his form slouched, tired, bruised —

The body was his, the voice was his, but this battered man was no Idris. Swift feet crossed the room. A fresh cut sent a slow stream of blood down his cheek and she wiped it gently away. Tactile memories flooded and Mary’s chest heaved in rage.

The transition had been slow, Idris situating himself into the middle of her life. He had proven over and over she needed no other ally than he, that her dreams were never more near than when he was with her. Together he had showed her the path with he as her biggest cheerleader. Any defiance was pressed down; the two of them at first, but he had let her take over, and danced with her in the flames of her victories. 

They had taken on the world hand in hand, bringing it to its knees in front of her. 

Now this imposter tried to drive a stake deep into that love. Mary had been warned. Not everyone would understand their ways, would try to stop them - remember what she could do, what they could do…

Her hand grew hard on his chin. “Who are you and where is Idris?”

- 

Silas physically stiffened, not caught off guard by her swift approach, but because she reached out to gently wipe his face of blood. His jaw set tightly, pitying himself for how much he had been craving touch. He locked eyes with her, temporarily distracted as he searched her heart through her dark pupils. She quickly uncovered his poor attempt at pretending to be his cold, stoic counterpart, but his stare did not waver.

“So he’s done an excellent job at hiding me this century, hasn’t he?” Silas said with a sigh in his voice like a disappointed brother, “I’m the only thing standing in the way of Idris devouring your heart right now. My name is Silas. I’m sorry for intruding, but I had to step in to stop him. You think he’s on your side, but he’s not.”

He starred at her again while he let his last statement simmer, catching what he was looking for in the storm of her eyes. “I look at you and I don’t know where you begin and he ends. I can tell you right now with utmost certainty where your differences lie. Idris has no intention of sparing children in his exploits.”

[latenghtdevil]

the-mist-coming-in​:

Quiet feet landed on dark, cobbled streets. The only light came from windows, soft glows from fires that faded into nothing but night by the time it reached Mary’s path. The wind seemed to move with every step so that the hem of her dress never dragged the dusty ground. Tall, elegant, but her nails remained tinged red with blood from her day’s events.

The castle lay at the edge of the village and she picked up her pace in a rush to reach its inhabitant. A wave of her hand and the lock flew free. “Idris.” She called calmly. “Idris, dear.” Her hand searched a ledge for the light, striking it to use the flame for the torches that lined the wall. “You sent a summons.”

-

One deep breath at a time - and a few ancient verses on repeat.

That would be enough to keep him down through the night - as long as nothing distracted the Silas. Fortunately, he had plenty of practice. Meditation was as cleansing and helpful to primordial beings as it was for mortals. 

Another one was ready. Corruption spread throughout her like a tangled weed covered in thorns. The allure of Idris’s power and demanding presence had caught another in his web of lies and manipulation. And this one, well... She was powerful. Silas had already been weighed down, his light dampened, with the evil Idris had sparked up within her. If he allowed him to devour her heart, it would give his worse half an edge he couldn’t power through with ancient verses and deep breathing.

Silas paced through the night. His focus on keeping Idris swallowed, holding onto control over the devil thrashing to be released above his neck and behind his blue eyes. He flinched once or twice, taking a blow internally that manifested in a cut on his cheek.

The voice of the woman he was trying to protect came unexpectedly, making him stop in his tracks and flinch again. His vocalized verses went silent, but resumed in his head. Little did she know that her doom would be upon her if he so much as skipped a beat. 

Deep breaths.

“Mary,” he began softly, aware of her name from sources and selectively feigning to be Idris during the day, ”It’s not too late.You can stop this. If you feel it in your bones that this is wrong, I beg for you to run from me and never look back. It’s far too late for me,” - Idris - Silas meant, ”but it’s not too late for you.”

“My influence will only lead to your despair,” His eyes closed, lips pulled taut into a thin line, his hand reflexively curling into a fist while repeating the verse in his head again. 

[dewrr]

DAKOTA JOHNSON & OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN  The Lost Daughter (2021)