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Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they're the property of Kaori Yuki. Note: Gah, I love Belial! Her character is so fascinating @_@ Please review this for me, & tell me what you think! Or send comments to rhome_de_castrali@hotmail.com. Jaa! ^__~ Pinned-Down Butterfly - Angel Sanctuary Fanfic - by Reverie The china clinked delicately as Belial set it on the table, arranging the plates and cups in front of the three chairs; her slender hands moved with unmatched grace. She straightened the bedraggled March Hare, who was slumping in his chair with his stuffed legs splayed, black bead eyes glinting. One of his arms popped loose from its socket and fell to the polished wooden floor. Belial quickly picked it up and tried to fix it back, chewing her bottom lip in concentration. Everything had to be perfect. She stepped back and admired the table, set with china on a lace tablecloth with a single red rose in a crystal vase in the centre. Only one thing was missing. Bending down to pick up the little metal cage at her feet, Belial gently opened the latch on the door and coaxed the dormouse inside out onto her hand. She placed him on the table, narrowing her eyes as he scampered away in fear, over the china plates. She clicked her fingers, summoning a long, sharp, slender needle out of thin air, like one might use to pin down a dead butterfly's wings in a display. Smiling slightly, she held the trembling creature still with one hand and slipped the pin through its flesh, ignoring the little spray of blood. Pinned to the wooden table, it writhed and squeaked in pain, but Belial couldn't hear it. She smiled. Now it couldn't move, and would stay in one place. That's better. ~ ~ ~ Asmodeus watched silently through the crack in the door, looking into the dimly-lit dining room. Even alone, his face gave no hint of the emotions and thoughts that trafficked through his mind; all the Satans knew how to hide their feelings, how to keep others guessing what mood they were in for the entertainment it provided them. He watched Belial as she set up her tea party. She thought she was alone, thought no one could see her; she was wrong. Asmodeus examined the scene with a slightly beguiling smirk. The table was set perfectly with glistening china cups and plates and a teapot, with a red rose in a vase in the centre. Tiny, miserable squeaks reached his ears from a pinned-down dormouse; a dark stain was spreading slowly into the lace tablecloth underneath it. Belial's slender body, with a chest as flat as a five year old girl's and weak, narrow shoulders, was dressed in elegant aristocratic clothing as usual; but there was a certain care taken with her clothing tonight. Not a single crease, like it had been ironed with the greatest care; not a single splotch or stain, nor a single hair or piece of lint. He watched Belial straighten her top hat, taking amusement in the way she chewed her lip in concentration as she combed her long-nailed fingers through her unruly, tangled blood red locks, trying like a self-conscious schoolgirl to rid her hair of any knots. There was no makeup on her face, showing the skin's true creamy colour. Her dark sapphire blue eyes showed the delight that didn't appear on her face; her soft pale lips curled upwards into a rare smile, one she surely wouldn't have given vent to had she known she wasn't alone. Belial laughed softly and seated herself in a chair, with the March Hare sitting slumped in the chair at the side of the table; the chair across from Belial was empty. She was sitting side-on to Asmodeus; he watched her face as the little spectacle rolled on. ~ ~ ~ Belial poured tea into her cup and the March Hare's, unable to keep the delighted smile off her face. She looked up at the empty chair across from her, and raised the teapot. "Would you like some tea, my love?" She waited patiently, listening. ~You fucking disgusting woman, if you can be called a woman at all... Such a corrupted bitch, stained with filth that can never be removed... A repulsive and lustful butterfly... Spreading your wings for anyone... ~ She nodded, carefully pouring tea into the cup sitting before the empty chair, smiling. "Don't worry, my love, I know... Yes, disgusting woman... Corrupted bitch..." She lifted her cup and took a sip, her head cocked to the side like a new-born owl's as she listened to an imagined voice. In her mind, cold eyes regarded her with a perfectly controlled disdain, verging on disgust as cruel words fell easily off his tongue. Belial smiled. I am bewitched by the sound of your voice... Tell me more, more! Scorn me, spite me, kick me again... Every barbed word, every sting of pain I feel is the only thing that keeps me alive... Because one day, that same voice that speaks such cruelty will ring with words of love. Belial rested her elbows on the table and gazed lovingly at the face of the imagined man sitting across from her. She dug her fingernails into her soft cheeks in ecstasy as he spoke on and on, drawing blood that trickled down her skin in dark red drops, ignoring the pain. "Tell me more, my love... More and more, never-ending... Not until that time when you embrace me do I ever want you to stop..." A voice spoke behind her; she froze as the unfamiliar feeling of horror tickled her spine, the dismay of being caught. "You've sunk to a new low, my dear." She looked up; the man in the seat had vanished, and she realised she was sitting alone in her dining room, at a table set for a tea party with a pinned-down, dying dormouse and a stuffed toy hare that was falling apart. Hot shame coursed through her veins as she realised how foolish and idiotic it looked. Asmodeus calmly strode towards the table; Belial watched him out of the corner of her eyes, painfully aware of the lack of makeup covering her face, feeling naked without it. Her body was a permanent mask for her soul anyway, but without the superficial makeup providing her another layer of protection, she felt cold at the thought that her soul was that much closer to being on the surface, to being reachable. Asmodeus was smirking calmly. He loved to see her humiliated like this, caught like a guilty child; the beauty of the shame in her eyes was enchanting. The lustful butterfly, always hovering close but not quite close enough, had been caught and pinned down in her all glory. "This is a rather pathetic scene, my sweet," he murmured gleefully. "Talking to an invisible demon lord! I never thought I'd live to see you in such a miserable position." Belial seemed to have regained her usual calm expression; the shame was gone from her eyes. She swept a hand over her face; makeup suddenly covered her skin, bone-white and black, with a jester's upcurled lips painted on top of her own. She pushed her seat back and stood; Asmodeus secretly marvelled at the way her slender body moved with boneless, flawless grace. There was angelic beauty in that form, despite what Belial thought about her body; a narrow, delicate beauty that she could never rid herself of, no matter how much blood and filth she decorated herself in, no matter how far into the abyss of dark decadence she fell. A beauty that refused to disappear, despite the corruption within. Mad Hatter silently gathered up the china plates and cups in her hands, stacking them and tipping the untouched tea from two of the cups back into the teapot. She removed the pin from the now dead dormouse and put the limp creature back into its cage, balancing the cage, the stuffed hare and the stacked china in her arms. She finally turned to face Asmodeus, her arms full of the remains of her one-person tea party. When she spoke her eyes were cold but her voice was deadly honest, as if the words came from her heart. "Yes, I am pathetic, Asmodeus. But I'm not the only one." Mad Hatter calmly walked past him and out the door, leaving him standing there in the dimly lit room. Asmodeus sighed. It was the truth: he was pathetic, just as pathetic as she. He wanted so badly to see her in the glory of humiliation, see that proud woman reduced to a helpless slave at his feet. He'd followed her for so long, that hateful and beloved butterfly who screamed to have her wings pinned down, screamed in a silent voice to be scorned and yet refused to come within reach. He was pathetic for loving such a woman. And yet, he thought with a little twisted smile... he didn't care. |