The Art of Psychopathy [Closed]

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus nodded. Oh, but it wasn't that she declined the knowledge. He already had it, but he allowed her the false sense of security against him because truthfully, she needed it. Had she only known everything about him, he was sure she would have bolted a long time ago, "Fair enough," he said quietly. Raising her hand to his lips, he give it a kiss, and then he inclined his head, "Thank you for the evening, lovely Cecilia. Let's do dinner again sometime. Ah, and here..." He handed her a card. It was not his name on it, but the name of a famous New York photographer who had gained world-wide popularity. He was somewhat of a celebrity in the art world, but an illusive one. He didn't care to show his face to the masses. "That's my cell phone number," he told her, motioning to the card as he handed it off, "Call me any time." 

He stepped back, and he shoved his hands into his long coat and nodded one last time, "Ciao." Asmodeus turned and walked the opposite direction, leaving Cecilia with his card and more questions than she probably would have time to answer, mulling over them in her bed. Once around the corner, Asmodeus disappeared into a cloud of darkness to his own home, leaving the dirty streets behind for some much needed rest. Stepping into his own loft from the veranda that overhung the city, he left the doors open to the cold chill to air out his living space, shedding his coat, hanging it up, and proceeding to wander into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror at himself, and he pulled the tie from his restrained red pony tail, and the long streams of his hair fell forward onto his shoulders. "She sees me...in color..." he murmured to his reflection. "How novel." 

 

[Hecatty]

After a long and odd day she was alone again. She had waited a few minutes to make sure she was actually alone. Just to be sure she could be at peace once she finally got home, but before she walked off she pulled her phone out of her jacket. No way she would let herself forget the number by accidentally losing the card. First things first, she was putting his number into her contacts, naming the contact ‘Another strange day?’ and smiling as she put in the characters. There was no way things would ever be normal with him around, so why not have fun with it. This would also prevent the number being called when one of her friends went through her phone. Honestly, who would call a number with a name like this? She chuckled and pocketed the phone again before walking home.


After a few minutes she came home to a cold and empty hallway. She had been living on her own for a while now but still wasn’t quite used to the silence yet. Luckily there was an easy way to get rid of the silence. She took out her phone again and put on some background music. There, way better.


With the lights turned on and some sound in the background it wasn’t too bad. After all she loved this place, it was her own. Here she could do whatever she wanted and nobody would be the wiser, which usually meant that she could eat fast food at any moment without someone judging her for it, which was the best thing about living alone.


“Oh, Cece,” she dropped her bag and jacket somewhere on the floor, “why can’t you just find some normal friends? You know, the ones that get together and just watch a movie or something.” She was amusing herself quite a bit having this conversation with herself. “Because that would be so boring!” She chuckled and let herself fall backwards unto the bed. What a day.

 

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus rarely slept. It wasn't a necessity for him, being what he was, but he did need to rest. Finally closing the loft veranda doors, he snagged a good book and set it down while starting a fire in the fireplace across from his couch. Above the fireplace, a mounted large screen TV played classical New Orleans jazz and blues with a soft crooning tone, and he lowered the lights to a warm glow. Stripped out of his fancy clothes, he hung them neatly in a wardrobe and dawned a simple pair of sweat pants to enjoy the rest of his evening in. Typically, Asmodeus was out causing havoc, but he figured he'd done enough for one day or night. His phone shattered the peace and rapaciously rang, and he casually touched the screen and held it up to his ear, "What, I'm busy," he grumbled at the caller. 

"You ain't too busy fer me," Azrael's voice drawled across the line. 

"I'm always too busy for you, moron. What do you want?" Asmodeus snapped his book shut and rested it in his lap. 

"Luc said you need to come home. Just for a few days. We're having an auction benefit, and he wants you there to represent the artsy side of it. Whatever the fuck that is," Azrael grumbled. 

Asmodeus rubbed his forehead and tossed his head back on the plush pillows stuffed behind him. He groaned. "And what do you represent? A three ring circus?"

"Dick," came the sputtered insult from the phone, "C'mon man, this is for Luc." 

"I told you, I'm busy," Asmodeus answered. 

"You ain't too busy for him," Azrael insisted staunchly, "The gala thingy is like.. in three weeks. Just be there, please." 

"Whatever, man," Asmodeus grumbled, "I'll be there. With bells on." He hung up the phone and sighed. He'd need a new set of prints for the gala, something unusual that he'd never done before. He opened up his book again and began to read, arm propped up on the pillows, cheek resting in palm. Ideas started to trickle in with unnerving speed, and again the book was snapped shut. He needed a subject, and he had the perfect one. 

 

[Hecatty]

The static noise from the alarm clock next to her bed woke her up from her sleep. The thing was broken and could only play the terrible noise it was currently producing, but it was extremely effective at waking her up so she had decided to keep it that way. The replacement would be broken within two weeks anyway so why bother replace it at all. Cecilia opened her eyes and looked at the clock. It couldn’t be 6:30 already, right? It was. “Well, so far for being lazy,” she said to herself, encouraging her half-awake body to get up, “let’s get a move on!”


She got up out of bed and slammed the button of the alarm clock on her way out of the bedroom. This was why she wouldn’t replace the damn thing, she wasn’t exactly gentle with it. Upon entering the bathroom she came across a familiar face, her own. “Hey, long time no see, what have you been up to?” She smiled at herself in the mirror. Cecilia tended to be a little more loose when she was in a familiar environment and because of this talking to herself in the mirror had become quite the habit. It broke the silence and frankly it was just plain fun to do.


“What? The same thing we do every morning. What did you think?” At least she hadn’t been so tired from yesterday that she had forgotten to do her so-called chores. Her running clothes were laying nicely folded in the bathroom, ready for action. Cecilia enjoyed jogging in the morning, it was the only way to balance out her horrible diet, so she put on her clothes and went for the door.


Closing the door behind her she already knew exactly where she was going. She was going to pass through the part of town where she had been yesterday. Who knew, maybe there would be something interesting there. If not, then she could at least try to remember the way since she would probably end up there more often now. After all, she did have a deal with Brenda.


“Alright, I think we are all set.” She set a timer for an hour and started jogging in the direction she had planned out.

 

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus had dawned some more casual clothes for the day, some grey cords, a white shirt, and a light jacket. It was complete with a garishly bright scarf, and a brown fedora that hid his bright red head, with exception of the braid down his back. All though dawn and into the morning, he spent taking pictures at the park of the trees, the birds, and of couples smiling and laughing together.


His critical eye caught the lean lines of a jogger, and he lowered his camera as he appreciated the lithe, greyhound lines of her body. As she rounded the counter, he raised the lens to his eye, and snapped the shot just as he took in a deep breath with a face of invincible determination. 

He stared. That's some crazy coincidence. Now she'd think he was stalking her. Faced with two logical decisions, he could wave and say hello or let him pass her by and then publish the fantastic shot he had and get one pissed off artist on his ass. They weren't great options. He lowered his camera and jogged up to the trail that she was fixing to hit and then he waved at her before she got to the trail, "Cecila, hello..." He looked like a normal artist today, the fedora drawn low on his brow, a scarf haphazardly thrown around his throat. He lowered his camera and looked mildly apologetic,


"I'm not stalking you, I swear... I'm just out picking up some ideas." He held up the camera, and then gave a sheepish expression, "Sorry if I startled you." 

 

 

[Hecatty]

Cece had already been running for quite a while trying to find this place again. Luckily she spotted the trail that would take her back to her home. She knew the path ran right past her house, but hadn’t realized this is where it originated from.


She was about to hit the trail when she heard a voice that made her turn around. “Oh, hi Asmo, isn’t it a bit early to be out and about? I usually don’t see many people this early.” She wasn’t taking a break until her timer would go of so she jogged in place while looking at the camera. So he was the photographer who had taken a picture of her. She didn’t mind having her picture taken, but she did mind being stalked. Even though she didn’t believe Asmodeus was stalking her she was going to play it safe for a moment. “What are you taking the pictures for? I saw you taking a shot of me.” If his answer was believable she would have no problem with it. If it wasn’t, well then there would be a problem.





Seeing the sheepish expression she had already made up her mind. He wasn’t stalking her, but she really wanted him to try and explain himself. She was more than a just a little interested in his reason for being here. Who knew, maybe she would finally get to see some of his art.





She looked at her timer while Asmodeus figured out what he wanted to say. Just a few more minutes. She had underestimated the amount of time she would need to get here and also go back over the trail. Oh well, an hour is an hour and then she could speak to him normally, without constantly bouncing around.

 

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus smiled, "Remember the card I gave you? I have an art studio in New York for my work. I'm a photographer." His photography had been featured world wide, but under different names to hide his identity from the public eye. He was pretty sure that she'd never heard of him, though she'd remember if she saw some of his work. He adjusted the fedora on his brow, and he met her eyes. He was serene today behind the lens of his camera, his body language relaxed and content - none of the petty aristocracy from the night before. He shifted on his feet, raised the camera to his eye, and just as Cecilia took a breath, he snapped a picture. "You should probably get along your jog. I'll be up the street at the coffee shop on the corner of Belvedere and Weston. I usually get coffee there in the mornings. Feel free to join me when you're done." 

He lowered the camera, and as the morning light hit him, it cast a shadow behind. It must have been the trees overhanging, but as he walked away from Cecilia towards the coffee shop to get his daily dose of grounds and caffeine, it looked as though he had a great number of wings on his back. At least twelve if one had counted. But, no... it was probably just the trees in the park that cast that shadow. He walked along the trail, enjoying the sunshine and the birds as various morning joggers passed him by. An old couple holding hands and walking a rather large dog on a leash passed by, and Asmodeus discreetly snapped a picture of them as the old woman laughed at something her husband said. 

Humanity was both beautiful and terrible. Beautiful when innocence and love was upheld, and terrible when it was marred by the twisted reality of lust and greed. Asmodeus hated it. The majority of humans deserved to die, and he was itching to get his hands on a few of those. A twitch in his palm started, and he shook his hand out to get rid of the sensation. No, today he needed to behave. As he entered the coffee shop, a warm, inviting atmosphere met him, and he spotted his favorite barista at the counter. She was a young thing, maybe 18 or 19, right out of high school, and she had the blind air of precious innocence and the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. The girl beamed brightly at him, "Hiya, Red," she said brightly, "The usual?" He nodded and offered her a bill and she paid him out and handed him back the change. "I'll bring it to your usual spot." 

He sat in a corner of the coffee shop that no one frequented. Under the dim light of the lamp in the corner, he was able to lift his camera and snap pictures. It gave him a full view of the people sitting and talking to each other. When the young woman brought him his coffee, he passed her one of his winning smiles, and she returned it before hustling back to the bar to take her next order. He lifted the strong espresso to his lips and sipped. Ahhhh, yeah. That's the stuff.

 

[Hecatty]

Belvedere and Weston, that’s what he had said right? She’d meet him there, but not all sweaty and gross. She’d go home first and if that took too long she could always call him. After a few minutes of jogging down the trail she started thinking, mostly to make her run less boring as she had seen the trail every day since she started living here, but also because she finally had found inspiration for Asmodeus portrait. The tree shadows had looked a lot like wings. Of course this wasn’t actually the case. How could he have wings? No, he couldn’t, but the sight seemed to fit so well. She just had to add them to the canvas.


The beeping of her timer broke her train of thought. Time’s up for today. Luckily she was close to home by now so she would grab a quick shower, put on some casual clothes and make her way to.. Beston and? Oh, whatever, she’d find the place. There was no way she was getting lost again, she knew the area a lot better now.


There it was. After a few more minutes she had made it back to her home. Once inside she took of the sweaty clothes so she could take a quick shower and get back to Asmodeus. She had to be at least a bit faster about this than usual. So after a quick shower and getting dressed again she got out of the house again. This time wearing a red hoodie and some faded black jeans. Too casual? No, it would be fine. It wasn’t like Asmodeus was expecting her in anything else.


She grabbed an apple and went for the door, opening it while stuffing the thing in her mouth. She closed the door behind her and went out for the second time today. Once she arrived in front of the coffee shop she looked at her phone, an hour had passed already? Maybe she could have been a bit quicker, but nothing she could do about that now. Cecilia set foot into the coffee shop and was greeted by the barista. She was around her age and seemed nice enough so Cecilia walked up to her to ask if Asmodeus was still here.


“Hey, I’ve got a question. I’m looking for a friend. Tall guy, red hair? Did someone like that pass through here?” She hoped he was still here, but frankly she didn’t see him immediately. No harm in asking right?

 

[DovesFeather]

The young woman brightened, "Oh yeah! Red! He's over there in the corner on his seventh espresso reading War and Peace." She motioned over her shoulder where Asmodeus was sipping on another espresso. He was a quarter of the way through the massive novel, and he was continuing to leisurely turn page after page as he read. His fedora was shed, and his pony tail had been pulled from the restraining tie. The red silken mass streamed over his shoulders like a brilliant crimson waterfall and gleamed in the warm light of the lamp above him. The scarf, fedora, and jacket were neatly hung on the coat rack next to his booth. He was entranced by the novel as he read, chin propped up on a willowy hand. He look another lazy sip of his coffee, and he turned to the next page. He loved this novel. He was sure he'd read it at least a hundred times, and it never got old. Anna Karenina was another of his favorites, both excellent examples of humanity's best and worst qualities. 

Asmodeus happened to glance up, and seeing Cecilia in the coffee shop, he closed the book and rested his hands on it expectantly. He didn't speak to her, but his viridian eyes followed every movement closely. When she got close enough to his table, he leaned back and chuckled, "You didn't have to go home and shower on my account. Coffee is just coffee." He waved the barista over, and he gave her a winning smile, fake, but still friendly enough to fool a young girl. "Can you take her order, Callista?" The girl nodded happily.

 

[Hecatty]

Cecilia looked at the barista and considered her options for a moment, but being the creature of habit she was, her decision was quickly made “I’d like a coffee, black please.” Once the barista had taken her order and walked away she turned to Asmodeus. “Sorry for being a bit late Red,” She smiled, clearly amused by her own words, “but I couldn’t come over here covered in sweat. No way, I still have some standards.” It was true, even though her home was a perpetual mess and she didn’t mind eating fast food nine out of ten times she was always very strict about personal hygiene.  


“Oh, before I forget, guess what! I figured out what I’m going to do with your painting. I know it sounds odd, but the trees around you this morning looked like wings, so,” she paused for a moment attempting to create some form of dramatic effect, “I’m going to paint you as an angel! I think white would suit you very well. Don’t you?” She was completely serious, white would be perfect for someone like him. The emptiness of it, the absence of color, but the possibility to turn into any color it pleased. It was perfect and Cecilia knew for certain it would turn out to be fantastic.


“Well? What do you think? Could you see yourself as an angel?” She smiled, of course absolutely oblivious about the fact that he had in fact been an angel, but how could she possibly know that. To her angels were just as fictional as the monsters that lived underneath the beds of children.

 

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus tried to feign indifference, but he clearly tensed. "Do not." The two words were pretty simple. His viridian eyes narrowed slightly, and an aura of intensity vibrated about him. As soon as it had happened, it stopped. It was a sudden panic that welled up in him, and then was squelched. "I mean." he cleared his throat, "Angels are far too beautiful for the likes of me. Perhaps as a demon, instead." Callista brought the coffee to the table, and she happily bounced back to the bar to work on another order. Asmodeus' eyes momentarily followed her before they rested unnervingly on Cecilia's face. "Is that how you see me, Cecilia? As an angel?" he inquired. He shifted in his chair and finished off his espresso, pushing the large novel in front of him out of his way. 

"But I suppose, I could not dictate the artistic process. I did take a few good shots of you. I suppose turn about is fair play." It was a subtle, psychological admission, but even he didn't catch it. Paint him how she wanted. How she saw him. Asmodeus wasn't telling her that she was wrong...or silly. 

"I also have a business proposition for you," he said carefully as his espresso was replaced by a fresh one. His eighth, but Callista's count. How could anyone drink that much coffee? "I know of a high price gala, far beyond the basement galleries and underground art world here in this wretched city. My brother has one every year to benefit charities that house the homeless and help stop human trafficking and the sex trade. Each year, several hundred million dollars pass through there. Artists who are featured are anywhere from Picaso to world wide modern phenomenons that bring in thousands of high bidders. Would you be interested in displaying your work for something like that? The fame you'd receive would be... priceless. You also receive 10% of all of the buyouts on your pieces." 

He crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap, "I believe you could make a difference with your art."

 

[Hecatty]

Cecilia just stared at Asmodeus as he spoke. There was no way he could be serious. Just 2 days ago she was a college student and now he wanted her to go to a gala for the top of the art world? How could he possibly compare her to such masters of the canvas. However, if he was serious and it was for charity there was no way she was saying no. If there was a chance she could help those people she’d take it. She had to take this offer, no way she couldn’t.


“Alright, I’ll go! If I can help people with it then there’s no way I won’t.” She paused for a moment. The gala had distracted her, but she remembered something he said a minute ago. Did she see him as an angel. Surely she didn’t, it was just the white and the wings put together into one picture. Right? She had just let her creativity come up with it and the result felt like it was appropriate.


“Here’s your coffee!” The barista distracted Cecilia from her thinking with a fresh black coffee. Cecilia smiled at her and thanked her for the drink before turning to Asmodeus. It was such a stupid question to ask, she didn’t believe in anything like a higher power. Nothing like that, but what if he was? Before her sat a man who people seemed to get uncomfortable around. He’s offering deals to her that no normal person would ever consider. She had to know. What if he was? Then what was her end of the deal?


“Well, are you?” She smiled, but there was some form of concern behind the words. “Are you,” she paused for a few seconds. She was going to make a fool out of herself, but she wanted to know how he’d respond, “a demon? I mean, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Just, just forget about it. I’m a bit overwhelmed I think.” She looked down at her coffee. Why had she asked him such a ridiculous question? She picked up the coffee and felt its warmth as she held it in her hands before taking a sip. Demons, no way, those were about as real as fairytales.

 

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus tilted his head. "Being overwhelmed and being overcome are two different things," he said gently, "You are not yet overwhelmed, though you might be overcome a bit by the proposition that not all things are as they seem. Do not always trust your eyes. Sometimes, they lie."

Time slowed for him as he watched her. He was exceptionally good at lying, but that wouldn't be amusing with Cecilia. No, and it wouldn't be telling. He could explain the truth, and he could watch her reaction to his admission - which would either be one of two things. She would laugh and think he was joking with her, or she would believe him. Now, believing him presented a whole realm of terror for him, and it wasn't what he was banking on, but... if it happened, it left him vulnerable to whatever proclivities she had for telling others, though no one would ever believe her. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed.


That thick aura once again gently curled around them, invisible, but anyone in a close proximity would surely feel the pressure of it. 

"I am not an angel anymore." He studied her carefully, "I was once. That time passed before mankind was even created." He was dead serious. There was none of that teasing smirk on his lips, and his eyes, oh those cold viridian eyes that were usually so shallow and markedly empty were filled with emotion. "Now, yes. I am what you humans call a demon."  He watched her carefully and took another sip of espresso. He could have summoned some horrible vision or given her a look at his true face, but she was much too innocent for that, and he wouldn't dare harm her. 

 

[Hecatty]

She wasn’t sure what to think of him anymore, but she could feel doubt, which was the strangest thing about it. To her it didn’t mean she doubted if it was true. She was considering if it could be true, which was far stranger. How could she even consider such a statement, but here she was, actually thinking about it. Could it really be true? What if it was? How would she be able to tell? Eyes, sometimes they lie. Could it somehow be that simple. There was no way, but she might as well try it. Cecilia put the coffee down and sat back in the booth, closing her eyes.


She smiled, but not because she was sure he was lying. She was masking the doubt with joy. Trying to clear her mind and stop thinking about it. All so she could focus on what he had to say in response to her questions. “It surely would explain the business proposition. Nothing short of a demon would be willing to take such a risky deal, right?”


She was hiding her mixed feelings behind a barricade of faked enjoyment. She couldn’t banish the idea from her thoughts that she might have been hanging around with an unholy creature. She wasn’t a person of faith, but this primal feeling had nothing to do with faith. This was fear. The fear of the unknown.


“So, if I go to this gala with you, then what would you get out of it?” She didn’t actually know if demons made deals. That was just her knowledge of it. Taught to her by movies and books.

 

[DovesFeather]

"The question you should be asking yourself," he said quietly, "Is why are you willing to take this risk and what do you get out of it?" He folded his hands neatly on his knee, "Anyone that I call my brother must be as dangerous as I am, right?" he inquired, "Or perhaps, more dangerous than me. You are taking the risk here, not me. I am perfectly confident in your abilities, so I am not taking a risk by betting on you to bring in millions. However, walking into a den of demons seems pretty risky to me." He looked up as Callista came back and he waved his hand, "No more for me. I think I've had my daily quota." Callista giggled and took away the payment he offered and then his green eyes flickered back to Cecilia. 

"I also do not make...deals. That's not my style. My only payment for this is to get to know you better." He leaned forward and tapped the book on the edge of the table. "I've read this novel more than a hundred times," he said, "Leo Tolstoy died in obscurity and misery because no one cared about his works. It wasn't until his death in 1910 that he enjoyed fame. In the 1800's when he began his works, no one vouched for him or published in works in more than small serialized entries in the Russian newspaper Ezvestya. Imagine War and Peace as a serial piece. It's the same way Charles Dickens rose to fame. They would write long, overly descriptive novels because the newspapers would pay for their stories by the word... and not by the quality... the longer the novels, the more money they made. Simply put, these men were not passionate about their works. They simply wanted to make a quick buck." 

He shifted again in his seat and he tapped his lips in thought before adding, "You seem to love your art more than the almighty dollar. That alone makes you worth my time. That alone makes me interested in what makes you tick. I am not the company you should wish to keep, Cecilia, but if you choose to move forward, you will learn more about the world you cannot see than you ever dreamed possible." 

 

[Hecatty]

It was such a strange sensation, but with her eyes closed the words seemed to have more meaning. As if he really was right about her eyes lying to her. He might call himself a demon, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. If he really was a demon he wouldn’t care so much. Asmodeus might seem cold and his words didn’t have even the smallest shred of emotion to them, but he cared. There was no way he didn’t. He cared about preserving the beauty of the world and despised everything that he deemed ugly, but the one thing that convinced Cecilia that there was more to him than simple being a demon was the way he spoke about protecting her.


Protecting her against himself, but was that not considered protection? Cecilia had made up her mind. Asmodeus had been an angel all along. Sure he had fallen and she believed his words, but he was no demon. Not to her at least, she felt it in her very core that this person wasn’t as bad as he thought he was, there was no way.


Cecilia opened her eyes again after listening to Asmodeus words and smiled. A honest smile as there was no more doubt or fear to cover up. “I’m in!” she exclaimed confidently, “you convinced me. I realize now that what I’m getting out of this is worth the risk. Even if it means entering a den of demons, as you called it. I can’t wait to see your world Asmo.” Maybe she was crazy, but deep inside of her she felt this was the way to go. She would go through anything to understand this man better, but she would never tell him why she suddenly had this change of heart. Not a chance, he might try to talk her out of it and she was going to go with him on this journey. Nothing would be able to convince her not to.

 

[DovesFeather]

Asmodeus was oddly pleased with her easy acquiescence, but this also presented another problem. They'd be bound for the rest of her natural life... The angels kept track of who knew about them for good reason. They needed to protect all of their underground markets, their sources of income, and their illegal vigilantism that kept the sex trade, black market, and weapons of mass destruction trade under control. He supposed that he could protect her from all of this, but none were really protected from it. Mortals were an invaluable source of information, and the angels used them frequently. 

"You're sure?" he asked, voice dropping to a serious level, "Consider it a cult. Once you're in, you can't be out." 

He stood, pulling on his coat and wrapping the brightly colored scarf around his throat, "Let's get that painting under way while we talk in a less crowded place. While you're painting, I hope you don't mind that I catch a few shots of you." He hung the expensive DSLR camera around his neck, and his fingers found his pockets and hung there for a moment. "Of course, if that's alright with you, Cecilia." 

 

[Hecatty]

“It’s all good with me, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the painting and when you were going to have time for it, but yes, a less crowded place sounds good.” The serious tone of his voice had no chance of changing her opinion, but the cult idea might. Would she still get to see her friends or was she supposed to stay with him once she went with him. She would discuss it with him in a more private area. This wasn’t exactly a common topic to talk about. People would start turning heads if they heard two individuals talk about joining a cult of sorts.


“I do still have a few questions, but let’s find a more private place to discuss those, alright? I bet you know where we are going?” She was finally going to be able to show Asmodeus what she was capable of, she was going to make a painting even better than the one he had bought from her, she was sure of it. She got up and picked up her bag from the floor when she realized how light it was. Of course, her paint was still at home, but at least she had her brushes. “Also,” she started, looking at Asmodeus, "This private place, does it happen to have paint? I kind of forgot mine.”

 

[DovesFeather]

"Ah, well, maybe we should go to yours. My studio is simply a dark room for photography and a framing lab." Asmodeus looked momentarily sheepish. Mimicking human emotion worked for him, but he also loved to see the beautiful reactions cross her finely crafted features. He paused as he opened the door to the coffee shop, letting her go in front of him before he fell into step with her. "Don't worry," he said with a slight tilt of amusement in his voice, "I promise, I'll behave." He pulled his fedora down over his brow against the garish sun, and then he glanced to his side at her. 

"I'm surprised that you...accept things that you do not understand or cannot see. It's unusual for someone to relinquish control of a situation so easily. Especially humans who spend the majority of their lives feeling helpless. In most cases, they are helpless and don't realize just how helpless they are." As he walked slowly, he snapped pictures here and there of other pedestrians, his viridian eyes burning in curiosity often. He often saw beauty where it didn't belong, in the dirty allies, the streets, and the back roads that no one wanted to pay attention to. 

 

[Hecatty]

“Go to my place?” Cecilia looked a little uneasy while saying the words. Yesterday she didn’t want him around her place yet, so why did he think she’d change her mind in one night. He promised he would behave, but that wasn’t the problem at all. She didn’t like the idea of people she didn’t know well to know where she lived. That and the fact that her house was an absolute mess. She had only done the bare minimum in terms of cleaning and she didn’t want him to see how much of a slob she really was.


“I know you’ll behave and all, but.. well..” she looked at her feet as they walked, “is there no other place we could go?” She was hopeful when she spoke. Maybe Asmodeus would understand her situation and suggest a different location, but if he really wanted to see her place. Then maybe she could make an exception? Just this once.. but! Only if he couldn’t think of anything else during the time they were walking.


“Also, don’t be too surprised, I often like stuff I can’t really see. I mean, fairytales are still fun and those are fak..” she stopped in the middle of her sentence with a confused look on her face before turning to Asmodeus, “fairytales are fake.. right? I mean, you.. you know!” Maybe it was weird to assume that all myths and tales were based on truth just because Asmodeus was who he was, but she had to know.