Demon Stories

Victor: Angel Stain, 1801, France

Victor

Angel Stain

1801, France

I don't know how to cope with your beauty. No mere words can express the subtlty of your slow smile. The grace and delicacy of your rare white wings. Your pure heart wings. Don't ever think I don't notice. No demon can have such wings. You are an angel. I know you are, for I read your mind through your clear blue sapphire eyes. There is not an evil thought which goes through your innocent mind. Just clear love. Understanding. Patience. Unending patience for the one who has failed you. My love. When my eyes become unclouded by blood, on those precious days, my vision sees only you and my heart can't comprehend what it is seeing. This purely honest soul, looking up at me gorgeously with those clear, clear blue eyes. These days I see you as you see me. You see, blood is not my god, my dear, dear Saya love. My god is you. He has always been you.

I disappoint you always. No fiend is greater than the blood lust of a demon fallen. Yet, you tolerate this and help feed this without a word, just that slow smile. How will this blood lust ever end? How can I transfer this lust to you, my dear? How can I stop this misguided love, and start the one with you? 

I stare at you now, my hair its natural color, my eyes green as the rolling grass of my native land. You sleep, curled next to me. Like a loyal cat, your soft face pressed to my ribcage. My heart races to kiss you, yet I can not disturb your beauty as you sleep. My heart would have broken in the kiss to have disturbed such loveliness. Instead, I gently pick up a delicate lock of your black hair from your closed eyes, sweeping it away so I can see you better. So I can cherish this moment when I'm not thinking of anything but you. 

The soft orange glow of the sunrise gives your slightly golden yet milky white skin a heavenly aura. This also is a sign, my love. Most of us, we are most beautiful at night, the moon accenting us to look our best so we can conduct our hunts. Not you. Though beautiful at night, your glow is at this moment, a sunrise for a new beginning signaling new life. You are a saver of life, it shows this. And I tarnish your light every time I force you to take a life. I ebb it away little by little, and like a goldfish losing its scales I can see you dying. 

This thought brings tears to my eyes. I can't stop them rolling down, and with a gasp of fear, one lands with a tiny liquid sound on your cheek. And it is just like a metaphor for what I have done to you. The red blood of this tear is an ugly mark on your beautiful face. Just as every death is a grotesque mark on your pure soul. 

Deeply ashamed, I cuddle down with you. Touching my nose to your nose. I feel your soft, puppy-like heavy sleep breathing, and I start to cry copiously. Unconsolably, for what I have forever done to you, my dearest love. My dearest Saya.