Ilan was surprisingly okay with the pitch black darkness surrounding him. In a way it was rather calming to be in that darkness without anything poking your senses. It definitely was a spot where he could easily stay for the rest of his existence. But then the bright light hit and he saw the devil. Ilan listened without saying a word or doing a thing. He wasn’t quite sure what the devil meant, but Ilan figured he’d find it out soon enough. The room around him disappeared and for a moment Ilan was sure he was going to be sent back to the darkness, but as the slight darkness faded Ilan realised he wasn’t in the room anymore. Or in the darkness. He was on a silent street.
Until it wasn’t that silent anymore. He could hear hooves. And they definitely weren’t horse hooves. Ilan knew exactly what would be coming on his way even before he saw the first animal appear from behind the corner of the street.
Bulls. Not just one, a lot of bulls. And they all were running towards him, their nostrils flaring out of some kind of rage for whatever caused them to run on the street in the first place. Ilan had never liked bulls, they were way too big and unpredictable and all the history about bullfights and bullruns had always terrified him a lot. But here he was, standing on the middle of a street watching how these huge black animals were running towards him with their large horns waiting to impale something. Or someone.
Ilan didn’t think twice. He turned as fast as he could and then he just ran. The street didn’t have any alleys or crossings where you could turn to get away from the animals, there was only one direction where you could go and it was forward. Ilan didn’t dare to glance behind him even once because he didn’t want to know how close the bulls were. But he could hear them getting closer and closer. His heart was beating in his ears, adrenaline pumping in his veins and he just kept running. He knew there was no way out, the bulls would get to him sooner than later and he would be killed be them. Most likely more than just one of them. Probably thrown around like a puppet, multiple horns impaling his body and eventually thrown down to be stomped over. Ilan didn’t want any of that to happen, he didn’t want to feel that even once. But since this was hell, he probably would have to suffer through it multiple times. Experience that same utter fear and the horrible pain this all would bring to him all, feel it all over and over again.
The first bulls reached Ilan. He could hear it right next to him. But the bull ran past him, tossed the barrel out of its way with one easy movement of its head. And then the pain hit Ilan’s left side. Then his right. His lower back. And then he flew through the air. As his body hit the bulls behind the first ones Ilan could only feel the horrible pain hitting everywhere in his body as he ragdolled over the animals, being tossed around and eventually dropping on the ground. The air hit out of his lungs as his face hit the cobblestones and as he thought he couldn’t feel worse pain or make any other sound, the first hooves ran over him.
The pain was horrible as it ran through his body and just when he thought it’d stop as he could feel how his consciousness was blacking out he was brought back. He was standing up again. His whole body felt all that pain it did just a moment ago, but he hadn’t died. And there were no bulls anywhere. It was silent again.
But then the sound of hooves echoed through the street again. Ilan wasn’t sure could he even run anymore with all this ache all over his body but he had to try. So once again he turned away from the direction where the sound of the bulls was coming from and started running. He knew eventually he wouldn’t be able to run anymore and then it would be just eternal loop of infernal pain.
There’s no reason it shouldn’t be. It’s a party after all, and if you overlook the blood shed, tears, cries of pain and agony, and of course the smell of burnt flesh that would invade your senses now and again - it’s definitely upbeat and something to remember.
Half-way through the night, the lights hanging over the ball room dim low as the music tempo slows to give a more sensual vibe to the atmosphere. No matter what you had been doing, the music is enticing and hypnotizing almost. It may have been right away, or it might’ve been after some time of just letting yourself drift into the notes floating through the air; but it’s unmistakably calling to you to dance with someone.
With the strange someone in the middle of the dance floor. Hand outstretched, silently beckoning you to take their hand and dance with them. You can’t explain it, but it seems the rest of the party fades around you when you step forward to accept their hand in this dance. It’s nothing but you both in this world. As if this party has been thrown for you both and nothing else matters.
Maybe you’ve been dancing for a short few seconds, or maybe it’s been hours - who really knows. You’ve been entrapped and feel light in this persons presence. You can’t put your finger on it, but it feels as if you know whoever your partner is on a more personal level. It’s so familiar.
The music stops. You stop. They stop. There’s a long pause of silence, drawing the tension on longer than necessary. And then they reach up to remove their masquerade mask.
It’s someone you’ve known in a previous life. Someone you’ve never seen in hell before. Someone you could’ve sworn would have been sent to heaven. Whatever the case, they’re here now. Smiling at you. A soft glow surrounds them, and you realize that they aren’t from hell - they’re clearly angels. No one has ever glowed in this place before.
But here they are. And they’re so glad to see you.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
OOC INFORMATION
Oh boy! Happy Valentines Day! Your character has just been gifted the chance to meet with someone they had loved dearly while alive. Someone who loved them, or someone your character loved (platonic or otherwise). Only you know who they are.
But don’t be deceived so soon - not everything is as it would seem.
Who are these so-called angels? Oh, of course they’re demons sent by Lucifer to further deceive your dearly departed once-mortal. This is just more fun, as he is watching from behind his own mask somewhere in the room.
Of course demons in play can be the demon playing the part, or the demons can be a NPC. Whatever the case.
If your character has been assigned as entertainment, a guard has relieved them of their duty for them to experience this intimate moment - no matter their mark.
Feel free to write your character’s interaction with this plot drop in a self-para! It is not a requirement, of course, but know that your character would go through this interaction. So headcanons are also welcome.
As always - if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to prod.
darkness. it enveloped her entire surrounding. as if she had her eyes closed even when they were wide open. one moment, she was just sitting in her cell talking with one of her cellmates and the next, she couldn’t see or hear anything. and yet she could feel this foreboding coldness, this chills running down her spine. then suddenly, there was a blinding light that she had to shut her eyes closed before blinking them open. and suddenly, she was in a small room. one that almost looked like an interrogation room from the movies she’s seen. and there he was, the dashing gentleman that greeted her the moment she woke up in this place. it was the devil himself.
eden could hear him talk, but she couldn’t quite comprehend what he was even on about since she was frozen in fear. what could she have possibly done to gain an audience with lucifer? she’s been well behaved--she didn’t fight nor disrespected any of the masters. but even before she could dwell on such thoughts, the room began to shrink--closer and closer to her until it felt like she was being swallowed.
“ daddy? ” was the first word that eden uttered as she found herself back in her room—not the cell, but the room she grew up in. she was sitting in her four-poster bed with the baby pink drapes cascading down the posts. even her life-sized teddy bear, mr. puffy, was sitting right against the wall next to her desktop. how could it be that she was back here after all these years—unless—unless everything that happened for the past three years was just a dream. a nightmare.
hurrying past down the stairs, bare feet and adorned with her pink babydoll dress, the young girl continued to call for her daddy. she was almost at the bottom of the stairs when she caught a glimpse of his back, a radiant smile found its way on her lips. the brunette was just about to call for him when suddenly, she noticed the woman he was talking to. getting a closer look as she took another step forward, she saw him caressing her face tenderly. jealousy seethed in her chest. her face was still hidden by his large hand, but soon he was dropping it to her waist and revealing those familiar features. it almost seemed like she was looking into the mirror. it was her. the woman with the large portrait at the top of their grand stair case. the woman in their wedding photo he kept in his office. the one woman she could never amount to. “ mom? ”
eden was rooted on her spot as her father turned on his heel to face her. he had that brilliant smile on his face that matched the beautiful one of her mother’s. “ aren’t you gonna join us for lunch, darling? ” questioned the man as he kept his hand around her waist. how was this possible? how could her mother be alive after all these years? “ you look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart, ” came the sweet voice of her mother as she beckoned her to the dining table where her older brother was already seated at his usual place. she was just about to do the same when her mother took her place, the one on the left hand side of her dad. she wanted to throw a fit and say that that was her seat, but her brother already pulled out the chair next to him for her to sit on. and like the dutiful daughter she was supposed to be, the younger of the two sat on that place.
everyone was chatting as if this was normal, as if this was just another day in the calloway household. everyone except her. she felt utterly out of place as they talked and talked while no one even seemed to pay any attention to her. not once did her father even looked at her way as she tried to seek his eyes. shouldn’t she be glad to be back in this place she called home? to the place where her family was complete and happy?
once lunch was over, her mother announced that she had to leave for an emergency at work while her brother was going out with some friends. finally, she could be alone with him--the brunette thought to herself before mentally scolding herself for even having such thoughts. retiring to her room as everyone went on with their day, she paced back and forth as she tried to control the urge to go running to her father. but it was as if he read her thoughts because there was suddenly a knock on her door.
“ angel, can i come in? ” he questioned as he turned the knob, stepping into her room as she stopped pacing back and forth to face him. closing the door behind him, he turned the lock and dropped his hands on his sides. there was a grim expression on his face as he stepped closer to the smaller girl.
“ is everything okay, daddy? ” the brunette questioned worriedly as she closed the distance between them, reaching out to caress his face with her hand. however, even before she could touch him, his hand caught her wrist and held it away from his face with a firm shake of his head.
“ it will be once you stop this madness, ” he stated, gripping her wrist tighter now. he tugged her closer to him as he cupped her jaw harshly, nails digging into her skin. “ your mother is back and whatever this was? ” he motioned between the two of them. “ it can’t continue. i won’t fall for your wicked schemes anymore. ”
“ i--i don’t understand, ” eden voiced out quietly, confusion written all over her face as her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “ i--i thought you loved me, ” she whispered under her breath, which was met by amused laughter from her father.
with an incredulous expression on his face, he dropped her wrist and wrapped his fist on her long flowing locks instead. “ love you? who could ever love such a pathetic filthy girl like you? don’t make me laugh, angel. the only thing you’re good for is that thing between your legs. and now that your mother is here, you’ve absolutely just become useless, ” he crooned gently, a stark contrast to his actions and words before he was releasing his hold on her and pushing her away.
“ daddy please--you don’t mean that, ” the brunette implored as she dropped on her knees, the tears rolling down her eyes as her chest clenched with pain. eden hugged her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth, shutting her eyes tight as his laughter continued ringing in her ears. taunting her. the images of a happy family with the four of them being ripped to shreds. all because her father would always choose her mother over her. it’s not true. it’s not true. this was all just a dream. he loved her. he had to. // @ellyborneworld
The black vortex Chess had been sucked through, the piercingly white room, then the meeting with the devil himself (lord, why could she only think about how dashing he was even in such a terrifying moment?) were all quickly forgotten. How could they not be, when she suddenly found herself back on earth? What had happened? Did the powers that be realize they had stuck her in Hell mistakenly and now she was to live again? Oh, she would never take anything for granted as long as she breathed, if that was the case.
She was in a bathroom. Her reflection stared back at her from an ornate mirror. Chess was in a tight, sequinned black dress, hair up in a ponytail, her face baked to perfection— in short, her usual glam self when she had still been alive. She touched her face, her tits. All felt real and very much ‘there’. She pinched her arm. Pain. Real pain. Could this be? Was she really back like she had never left?! What of her death?
Outside the loo, a drum n’ bass song reverberated. A party. Chels took a few moments longer admiring herself, before gathering the black clutch that lay on the marble countertop, and stepped outside the bathroom. It was a party, alright. Bass beats moved through her, purple and pink mood lighting illuminated familiar faces dancing, drinking, instagramming picture perfect moments. She moved through the crowd, some people parting for her, some pushing, most not taking notice of her. And at the far end, perched on the back of a sofa with his impossibly sleek hair— Harry Crawley. One of her oldest friends and member of her posse.
“Harry!” She calls out, waving her hand frantically. Harry looks up, but doesn’t seem happy to see her. How could he not be happy to see her?! Chess totters over on her stilettos, wanting to pull him into a hug, but he’s perched on the back of the sofa and against the wall, making no motion to move. He looks rather confused. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!” Before she died, she’d seen him a mere weeks ago, but after her whole Hell journey, it had felt like ten years or more had elapsed. Harry, with his angular features and Greek chiseled face, still looks nonplussed.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” he finally asks.
“Are you taking the piss, Harry? It’s me, Chess, you idiot.”
Nothing. No flash of recognition on his face.
“Chess?” He’s almost amused. “What sort of name is that?”
“Oh fuck off, Harry, I don’t have time for these games. Where’s Laura?”
“She’s at the bar. Do I know you from somewhere?” He’s still perplexed, but not for long, his attention has shifted and he’s on his phone now, scrolling instagram.
“Give me that.” She snatches the phone out of his hand to a cry in protest, but Chess moves out of his reach before he can reach for it. She enters the search function and searches for her instagram handle, @chessthorpe. No results come up. She tries her name, first ‘Chess Thorpe’ and then the full ‘Francesca Thorpe’, but again, only one result comes up, and it’s some girl who isn’t her. Where have all her fan accounts gone? There’s absolutely nothing. This must be some sort of glitch, and Francesca is already looking up towards the bar, spotting her other best friend, Laura.
She’s unsettled now and makes a beeline towards Laura, pursued by Harry because she still has his phone in her hand.
She slides between the people at the bar to stand face to face with the pretty blonde, grabbing her attention. “Do you know who I am?” she demands.
The girl looks confused, the same blank stare Harry had given her, albeit more polite. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” she says with a perfectly polite smile. “You a friend of Jessica’s?”
Chess’s heart sinks, but before she has time to ruminate on what’s happening the phone is being snatched out of her hands.
“Gimme that. Psycho,” Harry sneers, taking back his phone. Laura looks at Harry confused, and as Chess spaces out in deep thought, they carry a conversation unbeknownst to her.
“Who even is that?”
“No bloody idea, she just came up to me and snatched my phone.”
“Fucking weird. She one of Tom’s friends?"
“Probably on something. Batty bitch.”
***
She’s suddenly out of the club and in her home. Her family’s manor in Sussex, to be precise. They’re opening presents on Christmas Day, a tradition her father has kept as long as Chess could remember.
“Open it,” Daniella, her older sister, encourages her bother, James. Neither of them acknowledge Chess on the sofa between them.
James tears open the packaging to an ugly jumper. “Fuck, not again,” he laughs, holding it open. It’s got a knitted picture of Santa mooning a reindeer. “At least it’s creative.”
Her mother and father sit opposite, equally amused by the present. None of them look Chess in the eye; she’s there, but she’s not. Her mouth feels dry, her head is spinning.
She opens her mouth to speak, carefully planning her words this time. “Mum, Dad? Are there any presents for me?”
Her mother and father both turn their heads to look at her. For a second her heart skips with a grasped sliver of hope, but it’s stolen away just as quickly when she recognizes the same glassy look in their eyes as the one in Harry’s and Laura’s. They don’t know her. She might as well be a fucking ghost.
***
She’s in a limo, driving through a city at night. Chess isn’t sure what city it is, but it’s big and there’s neon lights and billboards everywhere. Sings in Chinese. Must be Hong Kong, she’s been here before. They pass a backlit billboard, a Lancôme ad with a toned, glossy girl looking back at her. She recognizes the girl. It’s Aluna Preston, her rival if she ever had one. Why is she on a Lancôme billboard?! Chess was the Lancôme girl! It was Chess’s face that was supposed to be up there, her face beaming down at travellers from every airport duty free poster and sign. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.
***
The limo pulls up to a hotel. Somehow, Chess knows which button to press once inside the lift, and a card key materializes in her hand as she’s going up the floors. A middle aged businessman gets in on the next floor. They exchange looks, the man sizing her up and down. He smiles.
“You know, you look like someone,” he comments, before getting off on a floor. The lift continues up and opens onto the 16th floor.
Somehow, guided by a force that’s pushing her towards this, she knows which corridor to go down, which door to slot the card key in. There is a strange numbness washed over her as the light clicks green, with an undercurrent of dread. No matter what she’s done tonight, the dread is there. Chess opens the door of the dimly lit hotel room, and the sounds of moaning and groaning assault her ears.
“Ohhh. Fuck yes. Fuck me!”
She’s walked in on a couple fucking, a girl on all fours on the bed and a guy fucking her doggy. As her eyes adjust to the dimness of the mood lights, she recognizes the faces, to her horror. It’s Hunter, her boyfriend. Everything he’s done to her is forgotten, and in that one heart-breaking, gut sinking moment, she has to witness the love of her life balls deep in...the hate of her life. Aluna Preston is on all fours, moaning, screaming his name and begging for him to go harder. If there was lack of evidence that Chess ever had a heart, here was the counter-evidence, right here. She could physically hear her heart cracking and splintering into little pieces, her face etched with terror. Munch’s Scream pales in comparison.
“Oh, fuck,” Hunter moans, throwing his head back, hands dug into her ass. “Shit, you’re so much better than...”
Better than? Yes, Hunter? Finish the sentence. Chess knew what name was coming next, expected it already with a lead weight at the pit of her stomach.
“..better than...” he continues, half panting, half speaking, “shit...whatever her name is. You’re much better than her. Fuuuuck, Aluna!” He slams into her once, and a final time, doubling over at the peak of ecstasy as he’s cumming. Chess knew that face so well, the way his right shoulder would twitch a little as he’d orgasm, then fall on top of her with a happy, contented sigh. She’d spent all her happy memories wrapped around him like that, finally having found the guy who could both keep up with her wild celebrity life and her insatiable sex drive. Her one.
And he couldn’t even remember her name.
So this was what it felt like to be nothing, absolutely nothing. It was beyond the worst feeling she’d ever felt, because she felt nothing; was nothing. She didn’t exist, not to anyone who mattered to her, she wasn’t in this world at all, nothing but a speck of dust. They could see her, but they saw right through her. A ghost. A nonentity.
