MY MESSIAH. / ARIEL.

[lucian a. stone]

you could be my unintended.

----- Lucian's world was steadily crashing down around him, casting him into a despair far more oppressive than the charcoal pits of Hell. His heart burned a slow and painful death, cauterizing only to tear again at the scars of ill fate. Jamie's spiteful words echoed through his head, rupturing what was left of his meager soul; a fragile soul, built intricately on the most delicate ideas and hopes. Lucian's little handcrafted soul, a glimmer of personhood which Jamie did not care to recognize or to understand, was stomped upon by the foot of reckless teenage indignancy and secretive misconceptions so that it was but a heap of what it was.

----- Carrying what was left like a wounded animal, Lucian could barely keep himself lifted on the invisible wings of flight. He bobbed, rushing a few yards on his slothful legs before picking up again. The city closed in around him like a graveyard, broken buildings standing against the afternoon sky like headstones. Ominous clouds suffocated the world beneath in gray. And yet, it was still too light for Lucian to bear. With nowhere to be, naked and useless without his Master's presence, Lucian looked for the cover of darkness and solitude - a slice of oblivion.

----- Lucian found his rabbit's hole, flushed into the safety of an old mattress warehouse, dank with the stench of mold. Casting himself upon a mattress, the stacks all fallen into a mess of cushion, Lucian laid as limp and as delicate as a dead cat. Hands outstretched languidly before his fallen, noble head; his thin, tight black sweater illustrating the cavernous curves of his emaciated physique; and his haunches splayed gingerly behind him, high in the hip. And alas, Lucian's blue eyes half closed and glassy, staring out dully into the enveloping darkness.

----- There he nursed the remnants of his gentle soul. Such a thing could barely stand to grow in the hot, dry, desert of a demon's heart; only to be wetted by the boy with the sad face, tears like raindrops could it crack through and fight to live. Such hopes had long been discarded in the bitter tempers and raging fights. And as the pieces started to blow away with the wind, Lucian took what was left and decided on the merciful course of action which he intended to take when he was instructed. With such words, Jamie in effect left the contract up to be voided. On such terms, Lucian had full rights to kill his Master and feed off of the boy's sweet, succulent soul... A soul which would bring life back to his form like a plentiful feast.

----- A soul which Lucian adored with such inspiring, crazy, unheard of love. For a Leviathan to care so deeply for a simple human was akin to a lioness caring for an abandoned gazelle fawn. While their bond was admirable and mystifying, ultimately they were of different species, and would die of miserable starvation - for neither could provide adequately for the other. Lucian could not bring himself to send Jamie's soul to Hell, no matter how much in want he was for a soul. And so, Lucian prepared himself to die, wondering at how many days an Angel would sense his presence and come to deliver him back to the depths of Hell.