~Why did my writing fail so hard back then? ;.;~
Scattered glass rain.
She shivered within herself as she realized she was feeling cold cement on her cheek instead of the fabric warmth of Lucifer’s leg. When she opened her eyes, she was once again alone, but she was no longer in her room. Buildings curved to the sky like wire towers of twisted giants. Deformed before they could even have a chance to sprout. Spiraled wires made their way from one building to the next in elaborate patterns. Now and again a spark would erupt from the metal and shower down around the street, littered with trash cans and metal street-lamps. It frightened her, and she was alone.
She sat up, running her hands through her hair and looking to the ground. A liar, a liar. . . never trust - Her hands came to her face, covering her eyes as she started to cry again. “Where am I?” She questioned the emptiness of the streets.
“Exactly where you wanted to be.” A voice mocked her from far away. It was him, his tenderness hollowed out by the previous betrayed prince. He was standing against one of the monolithic giants that was attempting to reach the ceiling of clouds. His black clad legs crossed neatly one in front of the other, and the smile on his face was one that would never let her forget that he was indeed the black prince.
“I. . . I don’t want to be alone.” She whimpered, praying he would become soft and gentle; or had that only been a dream, a wishful thought that she had decided was real? In response, there was cold laughter. “But you’ve always been alone.” After that he seemed to fade out of existence. It seemed as if he were being removed from existence, all but his eyes. They seemed to linger for a long moment, watching her, mocking her with their coldness.
A bell rang from far away and the street seemed to fill with noise and people. Some were quite normal and almost average looking, others seemed to be a stunning array of colors and shapes. One, a red looking woman in a dress suit with quite literally flaming hair and brilliant red eyes stopped and watched her a while, throwing down a few coins before continuing on her way. Another, who seemed to be dressed in an English great coat and carrying a long black cane with what looked to be a wolf’s head knelt down, asking quietly, his soft blue eyes questioning as well, “are you alright my child?”
She jumped slightly, looking over the man. “You’re not, well, red.” She said quietly, “Or any other sort of color. Are you normal?” She asked without thinking. “I - I’m sorry, that was rude wasn’t it.” She closed her eyes tightly and chided herself with a quiet dammit , then a shit for cursing in front of him. Opening her eyes her brows knit tightly and she offered him a pleading look. “Could we start over maybe?” She asked quietly, a whimper heard under her words. The man just laughed quietly at her display and smiled.
“We tend to come in all shapes and sizes dear.” He offered to her with a smile. His gloved hand extended easily to assist her in standing. She took it with a shy smile and watched him as she stood. Would he disappear as well, turn cold and dark against her and leave her alone. Once she was righted he gave a short bow. “Tomos Kade, at your service.” He said with a smile as the flare of his great coat swirled in about him. He looked about to see if anyone was about; but the people kept moving around them almost as if they didn’t exist. “Seems you’ve been left to your own devices Miss.” He said rather pityingly.
Her head fell slightly, hair falling into her face. She felt ashamed to be imposing so on a man who all she knew of him was his name. She had relied on Lucifer, and now she stood confused. She would have to learn to rely on herself now, she couldn’t keep depending on others to help her through this situation; especially when they seemed to do nothing but leave her stranded wherever they pleased. She nodded to his question, looking about at all the faces and shapes passing them. “I’m Waverly.” She said, looking more confused the more she looked about.
Before he could reply there was an annoyed outlet of breath, then words came. “Oh, have I missed the tea and cake?” The voice bit. It was high pitched, carrying a tone of annoyance to it, and Waverly’s head inclined to the source of the voice. This was a lanky young girl with a long split dress and a tight neck buttoned top. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders and her back with slightly upswept here and there for effect, her sleeves billowed downward, falling from her elbow.
“Wha, what?” Waverly questioned. The girl’s red eyes glared at her easily. It seemed almost obvious that she was invading on something the girl thought was her own. The girl in return gave an elaborate mock bow.
“Mallory Vayle, If it pleases you mame.” She hissed in reply. Her red eyes turned upward to give Waverly a once over, and for the first time since all this started she was painfully aware of her appearance. Her cotton candy pink camisole was covered in red, white and black paint, and her jeans, once designer, were so filthy you could barely see the denim they were made of. Her hair had been dyed but not combed that day. She had to admit, she would have left a pretty rotten corpse. The piercing red of the young girl seemed to go on forever. Please stop. . . she silently begged the eyes. Please stop looking. . . I. . I can’t take it much longer. . . Her mind was starting to snap again. She couldn’t breath, she felt her chest tighten, and her body contract inward on itself. She was going to fall. It was then, at the peeking point, that the girl looked away. “Can’t see what he wants you for.” The girl said cynically. Waverly couldn’t help but feel it was a barb against her. “I just want to get out of here.” She said quietly. It wasn’t really to the girl, in fact her face had been pointed downward, to her hands. I feel so helpless. . . The girl cocked her head slightly and her brow raised. “Let me hand you the knife.” She said sharply. “Or maybe some salt to go with it.” Came the second jab. Waverly felt wounded, hurt and for some odd reason betrayed by the girl’s words. “I don’t want your pity. . . “ she said quietly, the words tasting bitter as they lest her mouth, then almost as an afterthought she added, “where are we going?” “The underworld.” The girl replied simply. Her tone seemed board with Waverly now. As if she was ready to push this new toy from the nearest cliff, only to request another. “Where else would you go for the prince of lies?” “Lies. . . but he said. . . “ Waverly was confused, but before her confusion could register the girl spoke up for her.
“LIES Waverly Raine. Honestly, one would think you’d never gone to church.” The girl said with a laugh. Waverly’s head hung in shame and frustration. Somehow she had thought that he was different, truthful. But now she knew she had been wrong. She kept her eyes to the ground and asked. ‘What, what’s it like in the underworld?” The girl shrugged and kept walking. “Like any other place I suppose.” “What?” Waverly couldn’t believe her ears. Was this girl comparing hell to any other place. Something normal. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First the truth, that Lucifer wasn’t what he appeared, now the second truth, that hell wasn’t what she had been taught. What more could she take? The world around her started to spin and darken. She could feel herself losing her balance and it seemed forever till she hit the ground. But when she did, the girl was hovering above her. Waverly Raye, are you alright?” Those were the last words she heard before the darkness took her. broken thoughts Her eyes fluttered open into darkness. My room. She thought staring into the vast darkness. This must be my room. She let out a heavy sigh as a smile curled around her face. My ceiling. She thought, This is my ceiling. It was all just a dream. She gave a bit of a laugh as she sat up, only to have her eyes loose focus as the lights were turned on. She scrunched her eyes tightly, covering them with her hand as she heard tight tapping against the ground. “Home, home, there’s no place like home.” She murmured under her breath. A cup and saucer held firmly in a black gloved hand were the only things that came into her view as she opened her eyes. “A little late for that now, don’t you think?” Waverly’s eyes followed the arm to see the young girl holding offering her a cup with a dark liquid inside. “What’s that?” She asked, not trusting her host. “It’s called tea, you drink it.” Waverly’s hands reached out to accept the tea. “Tha- thank you.” She murmured quietly, as she brought the cup to her lips in an attempt to hide her shaking hands. “Indeed.” The young girl looked at her wearily, almost as one would examine something they were about the throw to the rubbish bin. As she sat across from Waverly she seemed unimpressed with the girl, her eyes fell to her tea cup before Waverly could speak again and it seemed as if they were to drink their tea in quiet. Waverly took the moment to examine her surroundings. The room itself was quite a dark room, lit dimly by a chandelier and a few smaller lamps that were fashioned in a Victorian style. A deep burgundy brocade style paper adorned the walls, seeming as if it would spring from the walls any moment to enclose the pair sitting at the table. The table they sat at was glass, standing quite steadily on what looked like three wrote iron dragons feet. External light was barred from entering the several windows by white curtain that fall into large pools on the floor. They seemed to be made of a heavy cloth, however the offending objects that kept the light from the room were large black shades, some of which betrayed an inlayed cross pattern in white. It seems more ornate then I thought it would be. She thought to herself. Before she could analyze the carpet and ceiling however, the young girl spoke again. “Do you think yourself clever Waverly Raine?” She asked abruptly. The question had taken Waverly aback. Clever? She questioned herself quietly. “Why would I think that?” She asked honestly. She couldn’t understand where the question had come from, and she turned her attention to the carpet now, discovering that the patterns of brocade eyelets were truly fascinating. “One can only fathom to guess the mind of common trash. One can only presume to guess that you find yourself terribly clever by thinking that you have taken the heart of the devil.” Her eyes narrowed as she placed her cup and saucer onto the table hard, focusing an intent red glare at Waverly. “Do you really believe that he wants you?” She finally asked. Waverly’s head turned to the curtains as she took a deep breath inward. The fibers seemed to pop to life all of a sudden, and her mind raced with thoughts on the statements that the young girl had just said. How could I believe something like that . . . he left me alone. She thought, closing her eyes. This is all simply his own little joke. . . because I really am worthless. Tears started to flow lightly from her eyes and at the first feel of them escaping she shut her eyes tighter to stave off the onslaught. The young girl looked at her, almost confused. “Are you crying?” She asked, “Over him?” In an act of kindness she offered Waverly her handkerchief. Waverly whipped her tears away with her sleeve instead, not even noticing the proffered handkerchief. “All I wanted. . . was to be of use to someone. To do something right for a change. But it seems . . . I can’t even die right.” She whipped more tears from her now sobbing face. Her words came out in broken fragments and she knew she must have looked like a mess, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was for someone, anyone to understand. I can’t take it anymore! Her mind screamed as the tears fell harder. I just want someone to see me. JUST LET ME DIE! The young girl seemed baffled by this new predicament. She looked at Waverly as if she were a broken toy, something that should have only spoken arrogant phrases, not the type created to cry. “How can you shed tears for one such as him? A prince of lies who thinks only of himself.” She reached her hand forward and whipped a tear from Waverly’s face, attempting to cease the tears from flowing. “He is not worth your tears Waverly Raine.” Her voice seemed to soften slightly as she spoke, almost as if she understood all to well the pain Lucifer could cause. In an instant things seemed to have changed, the young girl had placed Waverly’s cup and saucer on the ornate table and had stood to her feet. “Come,” she said with a slight sigh. “We should have you dressed properly if you are to stay.” Waverly looked down at herself and over her clothing. “P-Properly?” She asked confused. The young girl looked at her rather amused. “Those look as though you’ve slept in them. . . several times mind you. Besides, anyone admitted into the Underworld must dress.” She explained, turning on her heel and starting for another room. “Hurry, before I decide to rid myself of you after all.” She added in an annoyed tone when Waverly didn’t follow. Somehow, the tone belied a bit of amusement to it now. Waverly hurriedly followed the young girl, asking, “What do you mean, ‘dress’?” Waverly stood finally in a gown that she could never even hope to look even slightly in place in. She looked about her at all of the scattered articles of clothing that had been put on her and then removed and deemed unfitting. It had taken hours and had almost looked comical the way the young girl worked with lightning speed, throwing on one garment only to discard it for another moments later. Waverly felt the biting sting of being a play toy all too well in those few moments when the girl was altering her clothing. “Wha, what’s your name anyway?” She asked shyly.