He views it as he owns me. He would rather not leave me to someone who has ownership of me in any way, shape, or form. I sniff, the bridge of my perk nose smarting in pain. We had both went a little too fast, even for my newfound Vitality and Stone Skin trait.

  But he released me, even he incapable of viewing it that way. And so, the magic - eh, Magic. Miasma. Technicalities I don't care about right now - sent me here, to my girlfriend.

  I nuzzle into my girlfriend's chest, gripping onto her shirt. Even as my skin crawls at the feeling of physical contact more sexual than a hug, thoughts of Masua, Enterion, and now The King, I'm desperate for comfort.

  "Please let me go," she says stiffly, the resplendent irises on my arms noting her narrowed eyes. I leap back, animal-eyed and huffing with broken-TV-scrambled emotion. "Sorry, sorry!"

  She gets up, nearly a foot taller than me... not including her magnificent horns. Her true form's crown of horns, which I refuse to unfairly compare to the thorny crown of The King, haven't receded yet. There are still adorable, little, rhino nubs. She tightens up her necktie, a habitual motion denoting discomfort, her eyes shifting minutely to the side in remorse.

  "Hey, don't worry. I understand your reasons, this was my fault. I overstepped our mutually agreed-upon boundaries," I profess. My hand slumps to my side.

  Her mouth parts to say something, but my stoic Elisa decides on action instead, of course. It is expected of her. I could predict what she intends to do with her actions.

  She strides over to her dark mahogany TV stand, slipping slender fingers with naturally ink-black keratin into a basket of interlocked, gold rings set on one of the shelves. She's able to afford things like mahogany and gold because she's rich relative to the rest of this neighborhood.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Relative to the rest of the Gluttony dimension, she is destitute. She's, heh, fell from grace. Get it? Angel, devil...? Yeah, you get it! I know you do!

  "Re-watch of "The Adams Family"?" she asks knowingly.

  I squee, stars in my eyes. "YES! Yes, yes, yes! You knoow me sooo well~" I sing, sweet and high-pitched. "You're a rare prize, indeed," comes my whispered voice as I leap up to meet close and personal up with her, caressing her cheek with the bluntest part of my angular hand lovingly.

  "Whose the rare prize? You are. Yes, you," she sweet-talks. Her blunt speech pattern could be taken for condescending by someone who doesn't know her, but I am content and happy to love her as is, to love her intentions for what they are. Besides English being a third language for her, any spoken word pertaining to love is a bit stilted for her.

  Not due to her demonic nature at all! They can feel love just as fluidly and deeply as humans... and since I'm not human anymore, I'll chip in my own species too: the catgirl (fox ears) - Among Us Impostor (teeth and tongue) - golem (hands) - Orochimaru (tongue) - succubus/siren (my Charisma) - multi eyed monstosities (arms) known as Torment Princesses. Whew, I'm just a delightful mish-mosh, ain't I? HAH!

  No siree! She's just a little... well, I'll just put it in her words: "I'm stunted by the wholesale slaughter of my noble house, who were my caregivers." Yeah... I too was a little dumbfounded by her brusque delivery and admittance of it then, but I won't deny her adherence to the truth with me makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. The truth's hot.

  Well, except when from me.

  We curl up next to each other, sticking our big, fluffed-up pillow between each other so we don't trigger each other's mental hangups. She presses the remote and we just couch potato-fy and chill.

  "This is nice," we say at the same time. We look at each other... and giggle. "Jinx!

  ______________________________________________________

  "Hey, big bro. How are you doing?" I whisper. He's asleep, stressed as fuck even through his fatigue and drugged-up rest.

  Plopping onto the bed next to his frail, fragile body, I place a hand on his forehead. Feverish to the touch. "You better be doing ok!..." I say with all the threat a younger sibling can muster.

  He shifts. "Please don't be hurting for my sake," I whisper into his forehead, placing a light kiss on it.