Satan had just arrived at that junkie den. He would take many that night. Doubtfully, he had the power to fool and trick, especially weak, already condemned souls. He was ready to attack when he spotted two creatures that were not junkies - they were not even humans! Angels. Guardian Angels. He always had fun messing with them. A smirk came to his cold, bony face. His ice-cold voice followed. "Salvatore and Delfina. How approrpiate. What are you seeking in my territory?" -thepassionsatan
The bleak, unforgiving darkness of the cold, cold den unnerved Delfina, that night. She had seen much tragedy in her time, of all variants, but the frankly skeletal forms of these desperate, retching people…it tugged at her heart with such immensity that it very nearly brought a tear to her eye. ❝This is inhumane…why won’t anyone help them?❞ she mused sorrowfully.
❝It’s alright, my love. We’re here, now.❞ Salvatore comforted, linking a clean, larger hand with her considerably smaller one, and giving her own a reassuring squeeze. Even his cheerful demeanour had withered away in to a solemn one.
He bent down to console a junkie of whom was trembling with such violence that he could barely hold it together, himself. There was a reason God had sent them there, that night. Something was off. People were in trouble. Someone had come for them. Death…Valak…or even…no…
❝…Sal.❞ Delfina abruptly called to attention as the unholy presence made himself known. Satan. The black sheep among angels. The rejected, the cast down. Her expression hardened resolutely, unmoving and && sharp, with a small but traceable glimmer of fear behind hazel eyes.
Salvatore immediately rose from his position, the clear notes of urgency in his wife’s formal tone alerting him of sudden danger. Without hesitation, he stepped in front of Delfina as if to shield her from the fallen angel. ❝…This is not your territory. Nor ours. This place belongs to the people. Now, leave them be…❞ he coolly encouraged in the name of their almighty Lord. He could feel the nauseating promise of anxiety welling up inside him, but he’d sooner be cast down to Hell, himself, before throwing Delfina to the sharks.
{ @thepassionsatan }
