Seven Devils

The bell of a clock tolled over the air, the chime of metal ringing across the newly awakening sky. Cool digits unfurled to lace around a blanket of white, speckles of moisture beading on soft flesh as the pallid fingertips were pulled forward into an affectionate embrace. A twist of the arm, and soon it was being swallowed, unable to be seen in the vast clouds surrounding the area. The fog rolled onward, pulling the dark foliage of the trees in to hide their roots, melting in with the sway of grass, chilled with the freezing mist. Not a moment later, was it tugging on the edges of faded blue jeans, clawing at the fabric as it climbed higher up the length of denim. Numb and transparent, much like the growing apathetic gloss to amethyst orbs. The denim stepped back, a glint of metal piercing through the dense landscape as Damon tried to scramble backwards, his tiny fists raw and bleeding as they hovered over his face in an act of self-defense. Silver lashes folding do

There's a tempting caress of fire stone lips, a smoldering coal that rises from the ashes, and wrath's fiery kiss moves to press down into the smooth silk ends of Damon’s wintery splayed locks—hovering just beneath his nape. A playful brush and it stays there mockingly; until the child that harvested its affection like a suitable host, twists his lips down with a scowl. There's barely a shimmer of hesitation, before a pale figure is pressing forward. Wrath. The floor creaks with a push of scarred fingertips and the shorter male emerges to a stand. In seconds the wall Damon's side had favored seemed to croak with longing, already it begins to ache for his company, but a foot plants ahead and he abandons it anyway. Each burdened advance holds the type of grace one could liken to a wolf, guiding his limbs forward with cautious intention. The boy was smart. Yet Clay doesn't breathe another word. Disdain, unlike anything Clay had ever seen before,

“You’re here to see Damon?” Amelia was the first to speak, her tiny voice sounding oddly minute and fragile as if she had become a mouse. It was odd and unlike her, and Damon almost turned back around to check on her when Clay seemed to stop him with his unwavering gaze. A stare that held his chin in place when the other boy suddenly stepped forward. The dining hall oddly muted in the other’s wake.“I am. I’ve actually brought him something too. That is, if he’d mind spending some of his time with me today. What do you say, Damon?” Clay’s smiling—an odd sight that Damon can’t help but find welcoming. “I...”And then he spots it, Clay’s hand patiently resting on the top of the chair next to him as if it’s waiting for permission. Damon is struggling to come out with a reason to tell him no.It’s unlike him. And it leaves a sour taste in his m

“It’s odd isn’t it, dear?”A melodic hum, elegant fingers, and then those perfectly manicured claws were sliding through his hair affectionately.“What is, honey?”Scarlet, powerful and rich, lifted into a tranquil simper. Locks of tumbling brown hair mingling over an upturned nose when her lithe form bends above his broad shoulders. Her fingers caressing as her lips press to the center of his forehead. “I’ve never seen our son interested in someone before. Who was it you said he wanted to visit today?”“Ah.” Ashton mumbles from the safety of his wife’s lap. “Some human boy from the Orphanage that our dear friend James’s runs. The one situated in the bosom of the forest entrance.”Her fingers stop, pausing in their previous endeavor of caressing his hair.“A human...boy?” The question lifts her voice an octave, and finally his deep blue eyes

"D-Damon, please wait!" Amelia scrambled after him, her small feet almost tripping over themselves in her desperation to reach him. Her tummy hurt more than it ever had before, the stinging behind her eyes wetting her lashes with unshed tears, she felt horrible. Like she had the flu. Sniffling once, she reached out again, this time her outstretched fingers caught fabric. "Damon--" "WHAT!" The anger that suddenly pointed at her from piercing lavender eyes made her breath hiccup in her throat, and the shock of the thunder in his voice caused her fingers to detach from the back of his shirt. Her hand fell limply at her side, and the tears finally eclipsed the cover of her lids.  Trembling as if she was a flower beneath the wheel of an ever turning wagon, weeping for its life. "I'm...I'm so s-sorry." Her voice sounded pathetic as it trembled out, but all Amelia could do was whine as she barely was able to control her breathing. Damo