Characters: Diwa and Exec. (played by w.)
Content Warnings: Suggestive, cannibalism, gore
Location: Diwa and Exec.'s honeymoon suite
Diwa and Exec. got engaged after writing to each other for the run of Seeking Monster. These two scenes take place in the private suite given to them.
They're just being gross idk what to tell you.
The suite is so big it would be easy to get lost in it. It has towering ceilings and the dining table in its middle is framed with a sparkling chandelier befitting of some sort of film. It's beautiful. It's perfect.
Diwa hates boats. The water never sits right with them. They crushed up any herbal solution they could think of before riding and still, the waves of nausea come cruising by every now and then. The black blouse they're wearing feels stuffy. The long black skirt a little less so.
They stand outside in one of the balconies, hand death-gripping the railway as if they'll die if they decide to let go of it. From the back, it just looks like mystery. No sea-sickness here, nuh uh!
How sharp would you say Diwa's senses are, preoccupied by seasickness? There's a silent presence behind them. Looming shadow.
Typically? Razor-sharp. But they're too distracted right now to notice much of anything.
They're tall up close--not as tall as Exec. Their hair is cut in an overgrown wolf cut and just barely tamed for the purposes of this trip. That's as much detail as you can get from the back.
Ah, they're beautiful, even so. Exec. enjoys watching them for a while. The way their hair drifts in the breeze. The way their knuckles tighten against the rail with every jostling wave. She bets that if she startles them it'll only make them more ill. How cruel is she feeling today?
Diwa feels a hand brush their hair over their shoulder. Spoken close behind them in a voice full of love: "Hi, babe."
They concentrate on watching the horizon line instead of the rolling water. Deep breath in, and out. Unsure if it's the anxiety or just the sea that's making their stomach turn in unpleasant knots.
The touch isn't given time to process. Immediately Diwa's hands light up in what looks like flames and they turn back, creating a distance between them and their assailant. Their eyes are almost entirely white, with only a vague ring to distinguish iris from sclera. They do not look like Diwa's own.
"--shit." Relief. Surprise. Fondness. They let their hands return to normal and makeup melts off of them, revealing their skin tainted a deep black up to their wrist.
Diwa brushes hair away from their face and smiles up at Exec. Sun spots and moles decorate their face. Light makeup has been applied to the bottom of their eyes, to hide eye bags with elegant red.
"Exec." They say. Their voice is deep and vaguely husky. "What an entrance."
She meets the response with nothing more than an unbearably fond smile, leaning out of the way just enough that the flames won't reach. Greedily, her eyes take in every detail, from the tainted skin of Diwa's hands, to every freckle and mole, to their sleepless, ghostly white eyes. Awestruck.
"Mm. Couldn't help myself, when you didn't notice me coming."
Dressed in her usual white button-down and black trousers— although the shirt has been buttoned all the way to her neck, for once. Gauze peeks out just above the collar. She's wearing the necklace and the ring. Diwa can see that the vial has been broken, and that the skin around her ring finger is red and raw. She closes the distance between them in a few short strides, hands lifting up to cup Diwa's jaw.
"God, you're beautiful. I missed you so much."
Their own skin has a little sheen to it from their sweat. They wipe their forehead, exhale deeply. Remove their hand and let themselves admire Exec. in turn.
"Sam warned me about it, but I didn't expect you to be as quiet as you actually are." With the initial shock fading, they take the liberty to roll back their shoulders. Regain their composure in front of Exec.
They're also wearing a necklace, but unlike the one Exec. gave them, this one is silver, with a circle pendant hanging from it. It doesn't fit the golden hoop earrings they're wearing.
"As are you," they answer, fond. Their skin is a little dry. Diwa lifts their hands up and unbuttons the top button of Exec.'s collar.
"I didn't hear anything about any neck injuries." Pointed.
"Haha. One of my natural abilities. Nothing I do and nothing I touch makes noise."
Her eyes trail down to the necklace. Mildly surprised to see they're not wearing the one Exec. gifted her. A hand follows her gaze, tracing the silver chain until it reaches the pendant, which she lifts up with a fingertip.
"Hm." Her smile turns rueful. "Sam was very upset with me."
"It was only a scratch. Just takes me longer to heal now that my body has changed. Buuut~. Now we know that the lines you'll need to draw on my skin will stay."
"Really?" A spark of interest. Diwa reels their research-oriented mind back. They're not here to dissect their fiancée yet, at least.
"Ah." Diwa follows their gaze, catches their unasked question. Admires the look of Exec.'s fingertips in the sunlight.
"King's. We traded necklaces as insurance for a little deal we made." Vague. "I'll try and smooth things over with Sam tomorrow, hm? I'd hate to sour our honeymoon with bad blood." ^^
Satisfied after unbuttoning two more buttons from Exec.'s shirt, they drape their arms over her shoulders. The vaguest hint of choking.
"You're gorgeous, my love. I can't believe I have to wait to marry you."
"Is that so~? You and King seem to be on good terms, now. They described you as 'scintillating company' in our most recent email. I've been so curious what's happening between you two."
Three buttons undone. Just slightly more open than she usually has her collar, exposing the moles that dot her skin, the trail of hair that sweeps across her chest.
The difference in height allows Exec. to tuck Diwa's head in right under her jaw, face to throat. Her own arms loop around the small of Diwa's back and press close. Backing them up against the railing, keeping them pinned there. Leaning ever so slightly over. The vaguest hint of falling overboard.
"Neither can I, babe." Exec. kisses the crown of their head. Keeps their lips pressed there, breathing deep. Committing their scent to memory. "The time will pass quickly. We have so much to prepare."
"Awe, they're too kind." But Diwa has never been humble, so they do not refute the claim. "We just made a greater effort to understand each other. That's all~"
Diwa takes all of them in with keen eyes, decides to halt the unbuttoning there. They marvel at Exec.'s body with the delicacy and curiosity one would expect a historian to.
But their smile is almost one of triumph with each mole they trace.
They lean their entire body and close their eyes. Over text it was easier to disguise any of their negative emotions and stay cool, but in person it's harder. There's a reason their team members have taken to describing Diwa as reclusive at best. They can steel their face all they want, but Exec. can still feel their paranoid heart beat rapidly in their chest.
Diwa smells like a mixture of herbs and incense, but still unmistakeable human. Hair follicles, oil glands, dry patches of skin cover their entire body. They seem fascinated by Exec.'s lack of some of these fundamental aspects.
"Mm...we're the busiest couple, by far." Unfortunately. "The sea is clouding my head, however. Shall we wait until tomorrow to begin the official preparations? Let's just enjoy each other's company for a little."
Chest pressed to chest, Exec. savors the echo of Diwa's heartbeat. Quick and alert. It makes her mouth curl into a smile, her teeth itching with the urge to find the nearest expanse of skin and sink in. Her hold on them is secure; there's no threat of falling overboard, not really. Just a tease. Just enough to make them wonder.
Exec.'s body is cool to the touch. Skin supple and unblemished, anatomy-model ideal, save for the scab hidden beneath the gauze. A perfect, blank canvas on which Diwa will leave their mark.
A quiet laugh. "Are we really. I'm surprised. I'd expected more couples to go all-out."
"Mm. Of course." She hums, enjoying the closeness. "Whatever you want, babe. Are you feeling unwell? Is there anything I can do to help~?"
Diwa has not known a moment of calm for decades now. The paranoia is nothing new, but Exec.'s arms bring a shield of something not quite safety. Mutually assured destruction, they'd call it. The promise that if Exec. decides to end them it surely won't take long for her to follow suit.
"None of them in the same way we are, for sure." There's a reason even now Diwa requested such a late wedding slot, and it wasn't only for preparation's sake.
They (reluctantly) pull back, but their hand goes to grasp Exec.'s quickly enough.
"I believe most other couples are probably enjoying themselves by now. But I like to savour my meals. Don't you?" A sly smile. They pull open the balcony window and lead Exec. inside.
"And I am dreadfully nauseous. I hate cruise ships." ^^
Dry hands, as promised. Exec.'s fingers slot in between Diwa's, drifting along where led like a balloon on a string. Dog on a leash.
"There is a sort of satisfaction in taking your time with a meal," she agrees. "Or in testing the limits of one's own impatience."
Smiling still, she lifts Diwa's hand to her mouth. Knuckles touching her lips.
"If you're nauseous, shall we lay down?"
"I really would hate to make any of our firsts unpleasant." Even if impatience is clawing at their chest even now.
The feel of Exec.'s lips on their dry skin is nearly electric. They feel their body breaking into a cold sweat again.
"Yes, please." Another tug. After so many years waiting for any sort of relief from their condition, they find their patience thinning when it comes to easily fixable matters.
"Our room is beautiful. I made sure the bedsheets were silk. Come. I'll show you." Another tug, but Diwa doesn't look back now before leading Exec. up the stairs, into their bedroom. BYOL it's pretty.
Another laugh. "Oh, I doubt any of them will be. But isn't unpleasantness something to savor in itself? Nothing to shy away from. I'm thrilled to show you the worst of myself."
They follow but lag behind, solely so that they can feel it and be dragged forward every time Diwa pulls. Exec. had left the specifics of the room up to them, and they cast glances at the decor along the way. Familiarizing themselves with their lover's tastes. The bedroom is as beautiful as the rest of the suite, and as the bed comes into view, Exec. quickens their stride. Catching Diwa with an arm around their waist. Their fingers play with the hem of their blouse.
"Laying down just like this...?"
Diwa has to wonder how much money management really has, considering the short timestamp given to honour their requests. The suite is decorated with dark wood panels and soft surfaces anywhere they could fit. The bedroom has floor to ceiling windows facing the sea, with heavy curtains draped to the sides in case the night needs to be blocked out. It smells like Diwa already went to work on setting up the humidifiers in the room with a mixture of lavender and cedarwood.
Diwa has always felt a little too tall and awkward, but wrapped around Exec. they feel like the elegant and delicate woman they've always posed themselves as. It makes them squeeze a little harder (part of it is disbelief. They were expecting to settle. Exec. goes far beyond just that).
"Yes." They take one of Exec's wrists, lead it their blouse's top button. "Help me a little, will you?"
Something hungry flickers in their eyes, holding their gaze. Ghostly white against suffusing dark. Beautiful, perfect contrast. Made for you, they think again. It makes their newly-made heart pound with anticipation. Made for you.
Rather than start on the buttons, Exec. lays her palm flat against Diwa's chest. Gentle pressure. They push, walking them backwards to the edge of the bed, urging them to sit while Exec. towers above. Their bangs fall across their face as they look down at them. Admiring the view. Elegant and delicate, yes.
"... Ah. I'd really like to ruin you."
Fingers prying apart the top button. Quick, easy, practiced. They let their nails drag down the exposed sliver of skin, down to the next one.
Diwa was not born with magic inside of them, but they have trained it desperately and painstakingly. They were able to identify all the supernatural secrets on their team quickly, and give the other team an accurate assessment on the corpse of a worm. The second Exec. touched them, their training came to life.
She's more than Diwa could ever imagine. They feel a little like a fraud, having her all to themself. But they earned their prize and they will relish in it until the only evidence of their hedonism is two bloodied corpses on a silken bed.
Exec.'s palm quickly meets bone and beating heart--there's no cushioning to tide her over. Diwa sits, looks up at them, blinks. Their eyes are not their own and don't carry the infatuation their own voice does. But they try. Lord do they try.
They never stopped sweating. It's awful, below Exec.'s perfection.
"I did say we have all of today to ourselves, did I not?" Patience. They resist the urge to hurry Exec. along. "You have me all to yourself, my love. Prove to me you deserve it."
"Hmmm?" Basking in the presence of their beloved, Exec.'s smile never disappears, but it changes shape. Takes on a cruel edge. Their movements deliberately slow, taking their time with the second button. Lazily rolling it between their fingers. "Here I thought this could be my reward for behaving myself over the past week."
Button comes undone. Her fingertips slip underneath the fabric, teasing at Diwa's chest.
"The question is not whether I'm deserving. But whether you can stand to deny me for too long."
On to the third. Exec. sinks down to their knees to replace the touch of their fingers with the press of their lips against Diwa's clavicle. Diwa's skin is sweat-damp. Herbs and incense to mask the scent. They love it. Every imperfection, every mark of life. Her uneven skin. Her too-visible bones. A body so dreadfully human. Frail scaffolding for the power of a god. Exec. loves it.
Another button. Agonizingly slow. Exec.'s mouth trails ever lower. Her turn to look up at Diwa, now, blinking through her long eyelashes. Utterly besotted.
"My love." ❤️ "Why not indulge yourself?"
"I suppose," they respond, with dramatic exasperation, "you have. We won't count the Sam incident, will we?" (After all, she didn't do anything else to arouse suspicion. Sam just finally caught on).
Diwa lets their palms rest on the bed and makes no effort to help Exec. along. It's a waiting game for them as much as it is for Exec. Their patience is wearing thin, and yet they force themself to wait just a little longer.
Diwa tilts their neck up by instinct, eyes fluttering shut. The softness of Exec.'s lips on their skin hasn't failed to feel alien to them. They flirted shamelessly in their writing, but the process in person is different.
When Diwa admitted their plan to Exec., they also admitted a vulnerability. I need you, is the essence of what they told Exec., and a need implies a lack of something. And Diwa hates showing imperfections, has been cool and reserved for most of the time spent on this show. Part of them is still clinging onto their resolve. Paranoid as ever, protecting their soft, human insides from the more powerful who wish to hurt them.
But Exec. needs them too. And does that not change things?
They hope Exec. feels their rapidly beating heart and their shallow breathing. They hope she understands that none of this is easy for reserved, studious Diwa. That they're scared, paranoid, weary, just as they always have been. There is no point in hiding it. They might as well embrace it.
"You are a vile temptation," but their voice is dripping honey. They reach out to tilt Exec.'s head upward, to meet their eyes, still indecipherable to Diwa. They hope that changes eventually. They hope they can sense Exec.'s presence for a mile away. "I'm tired of waiting. Get up here and please, for the love of God, kiss me."
There is no extreme need that is not warped by fear. Embrace that fear. Let it drive you to desperation. Exec. savors every shallow breath Diwa takes as wholly and as sweetly as if their lungs were her own. As if their heart were her own. As if their separate bodies could be one and the same. Yes, Exec. needs them. Maybe she's scared, too. Even like this, separate bodies and all, she has never felt so complete. And, conceptually, isn't that terrifying?
The abrupt end of Diwa's patience makes Exec. grin a victorious flash of teeth. The final buttons come undone with a few quick movements, and Diwa's blouse flutters open. Lips to skin, she retraces the same path, upward this time, kissing along wherever she can reach until she meets Diwa's mouth with her own. Shamelessly hungry. Too impatient to be kind. She wants to devour them. She wants Diwa to tremble apart under her hands. She wants them to feel her overwhelming desire and understand how deeply, madly they are loved.
[... yuri interlude...]
Hours and hours later, Exec. has curled up against Diwa's side and captured one of their hands to study. They smooth over their dry, blackened skin, trace the length of their fingers. Diwa can probably see the way she mulls over a thought, suddenly feeling inspired.
"Mm. My love. Do you happen to have a scalpel?"
Exec. must have noticed by now the glances Diwa gives to corners of the room when they get distracted. Their eyes drift there, naturally, as if there is something to catch their attention in the dark.
Which is why, right now, they've opted to bury their head on Exec.'s hair, eyes closed. Already they can tell how the scent of incense is rubbing off on them too, and it makes them smile privately to themself. They allow Exec. to handle their hand without much thought to it.
"I snuck one onboard~" Sing-songy again. "I need it for my magic anyway. Shall I fetch it for you?" Not weirded out by the suggestion at all. They trust whatever it is Exec. just came up with.
She brings Diwa's hand to her lips, kissing their palm. They're starting to smell like each other, now, thanks to this incense.
"Please do. There's something I'd like to give you, but you'll need to cut me open for it."
"Really, now?" They raise an eyebrow. Very reluctantly, they peel themself off of Exec (not before planting another kiss on her neck, naturally).
Their suitcase was already placed underneath the bed, with only secret items inside of it. They kneel, drag it out, undo the two locks on it.
"Had I known you were preparing a gift of this nature, I would have figured out my own, you know."
"Would you? Haha. It's a little spontaneous." She turns her head to watch Diwa from her sprawl across the bed. "I just had to make sure of your ring size before starting on it."
"My ring size?" They sound pleasantly surprised now, though...what type of ring would require a scalpel?
Ah, well. Exec. will surely enlighten them. They place the scalpel on the bed but don't sit just yet.
"Shall I fetch a towel, then?"
Blinking up at them with a sly smile. "Worried about staining the sheets? Bit late for that."
"I just don't want them to get too bloody. There's only so much I can wash away with magic, you know." Playfully chiding. They toss a towel from the bathroom over at the bed before sitting down.
"Alright. Tell me what to do."
She catches the towel before it can hit her, setting it aside. Sometime during their [yuri interlude] Exec. had lost her own shirt, and she draws a line down her bare midriff to demonstrate where to cut. Just below the ribs.
"All you have to do is make the incision. The rest will part easily."
If Exec. were anyone else, Diwa would surely ask whether they were sure of all this. But they know Exec. well enough, and this right within the realm of possibility. So they just readjust their position and toy with the scalpel some.
Their left palm presses against Exec.'s chest, pushing her down onto the bed. Diwa climbs to sit on their stomach, taking a second to admire the way Exec. is completely calm about the scalpel they are currently holding.
They dip the scalpel down and then dig. Their grip is steady but their breathing is as shallow as it always is. Exec.'s skin is perfect, even now.
They drag the scalpel down with ease.
cw for gore. not very graphic
Exec. moves easily, wherever Diwa directs. As Diwa sits astride her, her hands rest on their thighs, anchoring them in place. Light, teasing touches. The adoration is clear on her face as she looks up at them, at their complete lack of hesitance with being asked to put a scalpel into their lover.
— Ah, it stings. Her eyebrows twitch, her breath hitches just slightly, but that's all that shows for the pain. Pain is still so new. The sensation is felt in sharp relief with nothing to compare it toward. ||Her skin cuts smoothly, no resistance at all. Almost like fabric. And once the cut is made, she lifts one hand up to it and digs her nails in. Her fingers sink down further than what should be physically possible, considering all the layers of muscle and fat in the way. Then she pulls to the side, revealing a bloody and hollowed-out window. There's the liver and the stomach, perfect and pristine. Anatomical Venus. Just enough space for Diwa to fit a hand in.||
"Give me your hand, babe."
In moments like these it's easy to lose the entirety of their focus on Exec. Nothing else matters. The pressing paranoia that has made its home in Diwa's mind is put to the side, just for a moment. Every single time, without fail, Exec. has managed to bewitch them.
They watch, mouth slightly parted open in fascination, as Exec. opens up their own skin and digs inside without any pain to show for it at all. They want to test the limits of that pain. They want to see just how far Exec. has gone in building a human body and just how much further she has to go.
With ease, they place their hand, bony and delicate, on Exec.'s insides.
Immediately, her own hand closes around Diwa's wrist. A temporary shackle. Not that she expects Diwa to flinch away. It's just for the pleasure of keeping them trapped.
Diwa; you can't see what happens, but you can feel it. Viscera, thick as tar, rising to suffuse your delicate hand. There's a sensation like twining string around your ring finger and pulling tight, almost to the point of pain. Sharp pinpricks like rows and rows of miniscule teeth. Exec.'s eyes go a bit unfocused, here. Brow pinched in concentration as she wills her cells to change form. It takes a full minute, feeling her chest rise and fall with every steady breath, feeling her heartbeat pulse all throughout her chest cavity.
When she finally releases Diwa's hand, it comes away drenched in blood. There's a thin, bone-white ring formed around their finger, now. Almost pearlescent in the light. It sits comfortably, but the razor-sharp teeth lining the inside are positioned in such a way that it will certainly cut their skin if they try to remove it.
"There."
Exec. smiles sweetly. She brings their hand up to her lips. Splays their fingers across her mouth and presses the flat of her tongue between them. Crude. Tasting her own blood.
"Your wedding ring."
Diwa huffs out an amused breath of air. They weren't planning on pulling away, but Exec.'s insurance is cute. Charming. They do mumble a small "move your hand, I can't see what you're doing," however, as they readjust to get the best view of Exec.'s workings. Not that it's very clear to begin with.
Their mind is divided between scientific curiosity and romantic affection, but they shake all the calculating feelings aside as they realise what area of Diwa's hand Exec. is focusing on. The sensation is, naturally, unlike anything they have ever encountered before, violent and unnatural much like every other part of their beloved.
Even after Exec. lets go of their hand, they don't pull away immediately. They take the time to move it around, tilt their fingers up and down, eyes closed in quiet, pleased contemplation. They barely have time to examine the ring before Exec. is licking the blood off their fingers.
"You're awful." And it's said as fondly as one might profess their love to another. They can't feel the sting of the teeth anymore, but they know it's there, much like the shoddy wire ring they made for Exec. It makes an airy smile form on Diwa's lips, as they lower their hand to plant a kiss on Exec.'s blood-soaked lips.
"When did you come up with this? I love it."
"I am," Exec. murmurs in between kisses. "All for you."
One bloodied hand at their jaw, the other sliding up their thigh to rest on their hip. She loses herself in another kiss— and then another— before pulling away just enough to sigh and gaze up at her with an unbearably soft expression. Eyes full of affection. Diwa is so perfect. So, so perfect. Even more so with Exec.'s blood on her mouth.
"When you sent me my own ring. I wanted to send one in return... Mm. But what if I plucked out my own bones and whittled them into a ring, only for it to not fit any of your beautiful fingers? And I didn't want to just ask for your ring size. Lest it ruin the surprise."
Diwa watches as the blood drips from Exec.'s chin to their chest and thinks of how their own face is probably a mess of blood now as well. They take the care to wipe off some of it from Exec.'s skin, but the only thing it does is smudge it around even more. It makes them smile, fond.
"It was a wonderful solution." They lift the ring up to the light. Bone has been used since the dawn of time as a means of ritual, both household and magic. In museums it is typically old and stained, but the ring seems to almost reflect off of the light. Idly, Diwa thinks of how good the blood looks staining it.
They tilt their head back to look at Exec.
"It didn't hurt much, did it?" Not concern but curiosity. "You looked more in pain when I cut you open."
Oh, her heart feels like it might burst, watching Diwa inspect the ring with so pleased a look. She knew they'd like it. The flaying-open and the ring, both. She knew, but still, seeing it so clear in Diwa's face makes her feel dizzy with happiness. Euphoria of being seen and loved.
"Oh, the incision hurts. Very much. But, mmm... That's about as far as it goes. Pain stops under the skin."
Her gaze flicks down to the still-open wound on her stomach.
"See, the edges of this..." She traces the wound with one finger. "Intense and sharp and clean. Clarifying. Like... eating a particularly potent horseradish. Dunno how else to describe it. It's all so new."
They love it. Of course they do. The lengths at which Exec. goes to prove their love to Diwa make their heart swell every time. It was unexpected at first, to receive such blatant affection, and they're almost sad Exec. missed the ways in which they paced around their trailer thinking of how to even respond to it all. They're a little smoother now that the love isn't merely a means to an end. It comes just as naturally as bleeding does.
"Horseradish." A huff of amusement. They lay down on top of Exec., resting their head right beside the incision to take the closest look they can to it.
"Anyone else would surely pass out from the pain." A note. "We might want to add some sensitivity to those insides. For next time."
At Diwa's amusement, she laughs, "For the longest time, taste and scent were the strongest of my senses. Food is all I have to compare new sensations to."
Eating has always her means of interacting with the world. To live is to eat, after all.
"Would they...? Hmm. I've never passed out before; not sure if I can." Her clean hand comes up to pet Diwa's hair. Fingers twirling around the locks. "Suppose we'll have to find out, hm?"
Bloodied hand still tracing the wound, slow and lazy circles.
"Now. Should I let this one scar?"
"No wonder you, me, and Sam are such good friends." Three people with an aching hunger that nothing normal can fix. Diwa hides it better than they do, but they still devour far more food than their bony frame demands. Exec.'s blood has been nectar to them already.
"Suppose so." Idly, they think that they'll both have to clean this up later, but the comfort of sightlessness is too tempting right now and Diwa is always tired. They close their eyes and relish in the attention.
"It's a ceremonial wound. Of course you have to let it scar." Not a tentative yes or a maybe. A resounding, demanding confirmation. The thrill of marking something as theirs, over and over. None of the items in Diwa's possession have ever lasted long with them. They sell them off, give them away, make room for something more necessary at the moment.
Exec. is all hers.
"Love..." Mumbled. "Executioner is not your real name, is it?"
"Mmm. Don't let Sam hear you say that. I'm sure our friendship is dead twice-over, in her eyes."
Steadily, she caresses her lover's hair. Lulling them to sleep. They do deserve to rest, after everything. Exec. smiles to herself, happy to hear the confirmation— she'd have let it scar anyway, but she loves it when Diwa is demanding.
"Haha." A quiet, breathy chuckle. "No. Executioner is the alias I use at work."
Diwa's too far down their chest to kiss, so she satisfies herself with pressing a thumb to their lips.
"Daywell. My surname. And my first name..."
She has to bite her cheek to stifle a laugh. It never stops being funny.
"Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Perjury-Against-Thy-Fellow-Neighbor."
"Jury, for short."
"You'd be surprised. We'll smooth it over, you'll see. She wasn't too upset at me." And Diwa is nothing if not a meddler. Though, they're unsure if Sam knows the extent of their own meddling and helping Exec. out. That will come later.
Sleep has not come easy in years, but it was always the slightest bit easier when Diwa had someone else in the room to ground them. That's all they do, really. (In their emails, constantly, they spoke of good grounding activities. They said they retained their job to feel grounded. No one ever asked what they so desperately needed grounding for). Exec.'s touch keeps them from pulling too far away into their own ghost. They hope sleep will come easier now.
Diwa doesn't bother stifling a laugh. Theirs comes surprised, if anything.
"Really?" Exec. has no reason to lie to them. "--that's--" Another laugh. "--I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, it's just--"
"--my last name is Salvador de los Altos Santos y Humilde Profeta de la Sagrada Bendición. Saviour of the High Saints and Humble Prophet of the Sacred Blessing."
"...Salvador for short."
Exec. had been intentionally vague, when describing Diwa's involvement...
They tilt their head curiously as Diwa starts to laugh. But once they explain— "Ha!"
Their own laugh comes out loud, joyful, unbidden. Can't help but squeeze Diwa tighter.
"Oh my fucking god. How are we— hehe— how are we so perfect for each other? God, I want your surname. Just imagine having to write my whole name out on a legal document."
Maybe it would absolve Sam the guilt of making Exec. that sick. Who knows, really.
Diwa is not one to believe much in contagious laughter, but Exec. proves them otherwise when she sends her into a fit of giggles over the coincidence. They bury their head into her skin to stifle the laughter.
"I was hoping to marry someone with a shorter surname," they start. "But we can keep it. Lord. That's awful. It'll take ages to sign anything."
Well, Jury does have the shorter surname, but.
Fingers tangling in their hair. Hand coming up to press against the base of their skull. Jury's nails rake across Diwa's skin.
"I want yours," she repeats, this time hushed and intent. Eyes alight with possessive excitement. "I would have wanted yours no matter what it is. I want to be covered in pieces of you until no one can tell where I end and you begin."
They don't mind keeping the surname if Jury likes it. Love is, after all, full of compromises, and what they most want is for both of them to be happy. So be it.
"Your wish is my command, then." They do not mind, really, if Jury can help repurpose the last name and make it entirely their own.
"Jury," they say, gently, for no other reason than to test out the name on their tongue. It's nice. Another confirmation that the person below them is entirely real. "Jury," they repeat. "I love you, Jury."
Her skin prickles with pleasure at the sound of her own name on Diwa's lips.
"Diwa," she answers, just as gentle. The name sits like a weight cradled delicately on her tongue, heavy with too much love. "Diwa, Diwa. I love you. I love you. I love you."
Triple repetition. Like a prayer. Like a spell.
"Rest now, babe. I'll tell you more of myself when you wake."
No one has ever said Diwa's name with this much love, if at all. It makes them grateful that they chose it out, if only because they way it sounds with Jury's voice is beautiful.
"Mm.." Noncommittal agreement. They wrap one of their arms around Jury's side. "You still owe me that story. About your first family."
"Hehe. You'll get to hear everything, I promise." ❤️
timeskip to like. tomorrow idfk
It is tomorrow.....
'Tomorrow,' meaning: Tuesday. Before the party. It's late morning, and Jury has interrupted whatever it is Diwa is busy with by wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in their shoulder.
"Di~wa~. My love. Here's where I admit to you that I haven't been totally honest about my history. Don't be mad~" ❤️
Diwa was busy leaning over a vanity mirror and tying a bandage around their neck, to prevent the bite marks from getting worse because of a turtleneck's chafing.
They put down the pin they were using to clasp the bandages together and gently bump their head against Jury's.
"Why am I not surprised? I could never stay mad at you, love."
"You're always so sweet to me, babe. Mmm~. Where to start..."
As soon as the bandage is in place, Jury is tempted to rip it off and mark up their neck even more. It's evident in the way she presses her lips to it, right above one of the bites she left behind just the night before.
"The first memory I gave you. That one was mine and mine alone. As you may already know, I aaamm... not of this world. But I was made from the dregs of those who are. What remains after a human soul sheds its identity and moves on. It took me a very... very long time to coalesce."
"Once I came together, I was snatched up by the powers that be, formed into shape, dolled up in a human suit, and put to work. The work being: judging those souls and directing them which way to go on their path to reincarnation. Specifically, I get to decide if someone meets the threshold for an afterlife in Hell." ❤️
You've seen her at work on her laptop, doing this! It looks a lot like data entry. There are some very arcane spreadsheets and workflows involved.
"On occasion, work allows me to cross dimensions to observe and collect souls firsthand. We try not to get in the way of any grim reapers or other similar entities. I'm particularly enthralled by the most abhorrent of humans. When it's their time to die, I'm right there to hunt them down and savor their memories." ❤️
Diwa tilts their neck to the side, almost inviting. Taunting, really. Forcing Jury to keep explaining her career while they bear their neck to her entirely.
"Leftovers, then..?" They hum in quiet consideration. It is good context to have, especially considering the rituals Diwa will have to take. They wonder, when both of them share Jury's energy, how Diwa's own form will change.
"Mm....your work is way less hands on than Beau's." Beau, who carries a gun with her and looks for people manually and dutifully. Diwa can still feel the way their stomach absorbed the bullet she shot into their side.
"I figured it was something related to interdimensionality, from what you told me." A hum. They sound majorly unbothered by the nature of Jury's job, naturally. "Executioner. It makes sense."
They tilt their head back down to meet Jury's eyes, a sly smile forming on their lips.
"Well? Found anything you like here?"
"Haha. Well, that's just my work. My hobby, on the other hand, takes a much more interactive approach."
Diwa's bared neck is terribly tempting. Jury nips at it, just the hint of teeth, careful not to actually disturb the gauze. She kisses along Diwa's jaw until she reaches her lips.
"Mhmmm." Kiss. "I found you." Kiss. "You're distracting me. Do you want to hear everything or not?"
They look awfully satisfied at the successful distraction, and use a free hand to hold onto the back of Jury's head and keep her there for just a second longer.
Finally, they let go. Properly pull back.
"My apologies." They don't sound sorry at all. "Shall we get something to eat, then, so you stop getting distracted?"
Jury loves how unrepentant they are... "Yes, please. I'm famished. You don't suppose they'll have human meat on the menu?"
"No." Blunt, though it's said with a smile. "Just wait a few more days and I will be able to regenerate quickly enough for you." As it stands, even cutting out that slice of meat for Jury themselves almost made them pass out from the pain. Though pain tolerance is not the same as regeneration, it certainly would help.
"Will blood suffice for now? I believe I brought something for that..." Back to looking underneath the bed.
"Ugh~. With so many non-humans on the show, you'd think they'd be more accommodating of a wide range of diets..."
She lets Diwa go long enough for them to find whatever it is they need.
"Blood will suffice. It's not as nourishing as meat, but I'll never say no to a snack."
"Human meat is difficult to obtain, I imagine." And it would probably scare off the human audience of the show to see all of them unmuzzled. Not that they are in the first place.
The locks again. They pull out a wide syringe with a small tube attached to the end, much like the ones used for blood draws.
"It's a shame you can't feed on anyone in the cruise. Their loss would be...far too notable." They take a seat by the vanity and roll their sleeve up, palm facing upward. Their other hand is precise as they insert the needle into the vein. "You're lucky I don't need human meat as part of my diet so we don't have to look for double."
"Wouldn't it? Especially since we have so few humans here."
Watching the blood draw. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, anticipatory.
"Hmm. Maybe once I'm fully tethered to you, you'll experience the same hunger as me."
"Perhaps." Diwa themself doesn't sound too stoked about this possibility.
"I would prefer to keep my consumption of human meat exclusively to you, however. But..." They squeeze their eyes shut for a second. Still human, still weaker than most on this show. The amount of blood on the tube is already making them dizzy.
"I do already have a dreadful appetite solely because of the first ritual. So we'll have to wait and see." They're a little pale now. "Can you get me one of the bottles of my wine from the cupboard, love? I need to replenish myself after this."
Jury's smile is equal parts cruel and sweet while they watch Diwa gradually grow more pale as they draw blood for him. He tucks their hair behind their ear, then rests his hand on their cheek to better feel how cold and clammy they become. Diwa's so cute. Doing this for him even though it clearly leaves them unwell.
"Ah~ So the ritual is what led you to be a blood-drinker. Borderline vampiric. I was wondering."
He gives them a quick kiss on the cheek before darting away to grab Diwa their wine. Helpfully pours it into a glass, then brings that over to them, hovering by their side.
They would do anything for Jury, fortunately and unfortunately. They don't care if it leaves them pale and bleeding as long as Jury will do the same in return, someday. (And maybe the worst part, they want to make Jury happy. They look at him with tired eyes and seeing their smile keeps them from pulling the syringe away prematurely).
"My magic demands more than what my body has. I constantly have to supplement it. Blood and iron are the most efficient."
They take off the syringe while Jury is away, seal the tube of blood up. When he gets back Diwa is already pressing gauze against the wound.
"Thank you, love." They trade the glass for the tube. "Do you want to mix it with something?"
"You can always drink directly from me, if you need. The sense-memories within might also give you a boost."
Glass of wine switched out for tube of blood. In lieu of an answer, he unseals it and tips the contents into his mouth while it's still hot.
"I do not have the teeth of a vampire. It'd be too messy to do it frequently." So called fantasy lifers when a realist comes at them.
Diwa drinks their wine and watches in amusement as Jury downs the tube. He finishes it so quickly they almost regret not getting another, but they already feel faint from the blood loss. Best not.
"What did you see this time?"
Memory of an evening: It is yesterday. You don't remember the last time you spent a full day with someone without getting exhausted with them, but your hands cannot stop tracing over Jury's body as if she'll fade away any second now. You feel light headed, and your neck is searing with the pain only a human would have after suffering so many bites in a row.
But you don't care. Of course you don't. You care about the beating heart of the person below you, who looks at you and sees you more than anyone has ever seen you in your entire life. You are so used to caring for others it is a rarity to have someone know you in your entirety. You don't know if you'll ever get used to it.
You kiss her, again and again. The moments you bite into her skin the ghost in your peripheral vision fades away. One of you will look worse for the wear after the night is over and it will not be her but you don't care. You think you're starting to know what being loved feels like. You think you'll never get used to it.
And his face goes soft all over again.
"Mmmm. Something recent." ❤️
Climbing onto the bed, he cradles Diwa from behind and pulls them to lean against his chest. Surely they must be dizzy.
"Last night, from your perspective."
A kiss to their shoulder. There's a vindictive edge to the thought that he can make Evelyn disappear. Even if it's only for moments at a time, Diwa is his and his alone. It makes him sick with jealousy every time their eyes stray to some far-off corner. To some ghost he doesn't get to see. But soon— soon. In just a few more days. All of Diwa's attention will be on him. Completely. Infinitely.
"I love you," leaves him on a sigh. "So, so much, babe."
They're back to the bed, the notion of breakfast mostly forgotten. Not that Diwa minds. Laying down helps get their blood back in order, and the warmth of Jury's body helps. They take his hand. Squeeze it.
"It's a little embarrassing," they admit. "I'm not very vocal on how I feel." And their lover intrinsically gets to know whenever they give him these types of gifts.
"But I'm glad it helps you know how much I love you too."
"You don't need to be. ❤️ I can feel it even without words, how much you care for me. ❤️" Nuzzling his head against Diwa's. So cute. Soooo cute. There's no need to be embarrassed when he already knows how you feel. ❤️
Hm. Wasn't the blood and wine their breakfast? Anyways.
"Would you like me to fetch you anything else, my love~? Or shall I continue with my story~?"
Diwa is a far hungrier person than Jury on the regular. They're constantly aching with hunger in a way that only became familiar after their first ritual. But they're used to casting it aside and will just drag Jury to a proper breakfast later.
"Can you continue the story? I'll try not to distract you this time." But no promises.
"Hehe. You know I won't complain even if you do."
Jury hums, eyes closed.
"Sooo, hm~. That's how I made. How I became what I am now... I like to slip away to the human world whenever I can. I've always had a bad habit of putting things in my mouth, and one day, while enjoying a hunt, I got curious. Leaving a whole carcass behind... it's disrespectful, isn't it? Someone has to eat the discard. Can't let anything go to waste. So I tried it. Pulled the entire thing inside-out and ate all parts. Bones and all. And— oh, Diwa, I had no idea. The memories. I can only see an annotated record of the sins and virtues a soul has committed throughout its life, and only after death, but— here, I could see everything. Experience it all firsthand as if the memories were my own. A person's entire life from start to finish, from their earliest retained memory to their death at my hands. It was... thrilling. Addictive."
They listen intently and with fascination. Diwa is not unfamiliar with hearing stories like these from all over the world--part of why they took the job they did was in the search for a knowledge they wouldn't be able to obtain if they were sedentary.
But it's different, hearing it all from someone you love. It makes you consider them as a whole and not a factor in a story.
"So the memory eating isn't part of your job..." More of an idle note than anything else. "How long ago was this?"
"Mmmmm. I actually don't really know. The dimension I usually work in— time doesn't... exist. So I didn't pay close attention to the years passing here. Not until... Ah."
He seems to remember something. There's a smile in his voice.
"Not until I found myself."
"It was very coincidental. One of the occasions where I was here for work. Collecting. Three souls who were scheduled to die at the same time. The US south, in Appalachia... right at the turn of the century, sometime in the 90s. There was a burning house."
"I stood waiting in the forest, watching the fire blaze. Savoring the taste of smoke. I watched a child rush out. Her parents were trapped inside. She almost got all the way out— but then the house collapsed. Buckled under its own weight. Crushed her under a beam, right as she was halfway through the door. And she looked up, and saw me in the distance, and rather than call for help—"
"She just smiled."
"It was intentional. She set the house on fire, and fully expected to die. She was supposed to. But... mm. My workplace never found out about this one. I pulled her free. Because I wanted to see how she would live."
"Ah..." So far away from their own. They wonder what it's like to live in a dimension like that when all you've known is time and weather and being the chew toy of so many other higher species.
They turn to their side to look at Jury as she recalls her story, her own head tilted with interest and all temptations of distraction forgotten.
"How did she live, then?"
cw for references to child abuse and exploitation in the context of "private rehoming" going forward
"Wretchedly."
There's a note of pride in his voice.
"America... is a sick, sick country. With sick people and a sick land. The foster care system is utterly broken. She was shuffled around from house to house to house, and nothing would last because she was violent. Maladjusted. She was in pain and wanted the world to know. But it was— inappropriate, her refusal to integrate with society. Each adoption was dissolved. The third one... mm. Do you know about unregulated custody transfers? They happen without the involvement of child welfare or such systems. Just exchanging children over online forums. It's abhorrent."
"This is how she entered her fourth and final adoption."
"Her new mother was a Protestant minister, and she collected kids like her. She was welcomed into a home of three younger siblings who wanted her and each other dead. But she quickly established the hierarchy, haha. Beat them bloody with her bony little fists. Became Ma's favorite for that."
"Ma had a hobby. She took Confession, and she would grow close to the worst people in the community. Enable them to do their worst, and eventually lure them to their place for dinner. Most of the time, the girl was the bait. What Ma wanted wasn't a child but an accomplice, and she teaches her accordingly, that the best way... to hide a body... is to eat it. All parts. Bones and all."
"She renamed her, after a while. Gave her her surname as a mark of achievement."
"Daywell."
"Judas Daywell."
Diwa is a quick and keen learner, and it's easy to tell from the way their gaze went from casual admiration to a hungry sort of listening. They quietly trace circles along the back of Jury's palm as he talks.
Their worlds are so different it stuns her that they even managed to find each other--and even more, managed to slot into each other so perfectly like they are now.
"...Daywell," Diwa repeats.
They immigrated to America as an adult and saw some of the underbelly of its invisible citizens. People like them who moved in without permission and thus had to hide from the law, both from its protection and its punishment. They've found that there are too many ways one can find themselves in the thin grey line of inexistence. Jury has proved them right again.
"...Judas. Is that another name you're giving me or are we still talking about someone else?"
He doesn't answer that with anything other than a sly smile.
"Ma always called it 'taking out the trash,' said it was their duty as servants of the Lord to clean out sinners so only good folks remain. Judas believed in the spirituality of it for a while. Wanted to contribute meaningfully to the community. Thought if they all culled the worst of the worst, then that would leave a healthy ecosystem for only good people to thrive in."
"Judas... mm. She adjusted. Integrated with society as well as she was able, cannibal family and serial killing aside. Survived all the way to adulthood, then had a crisis of faith. Ma was getting too bold. Letting the power trip get to her head. Her definition of 'sinners' expanded to include anyone who crossed her for any reason, no matter if they were otherwise 'good.' It left a bad taste in Judas's mouth. And, well, you know... cycles always begin and end in fire."
"Familicide a second time over, fifteen years later. Same as the first. Trapped them all in the basement and took a match to gasoline."
Jury sighs, sinking against Diwa.
"I adored her. So, so dearly. Watching her all this time. I was always there, hovering just at the edge of her mind. Looking through her eyes. I wanted to be her. And I thought, what a nice, tidy end to it all. Everything comes back around."
"I dug her a grave, but there really wasn't anything to bury once I was done becoming her."
"Jury..."
It surprises Diwa how similar and different the two can be. They're not sure if they can even wrap their head around Jury's whole being in an instant, though they sure try. A person's origins can dictate so much about them it's customary for Diwa to ask about them, but Jury has so many different origins it's hard to know where to begin. Where does Judas end and Jury begin? Does it even matter?
"...of course," is all they say after a long while of consideration. They'd grown confused over the way Jury spoke of her upbringing--had suspected there was a truth they were not being told. It's different to hear it from her own lips, however.
"I can't say I understand." Contrary to their trademark statement that says otherwise. "But you look happy, if anything."
Talking about it again makes her wistful for the meal. It's been far too long since she's eaten her fill...
Jury laughs a little. Quiet. "It's honestly not so complicated... When I ingest a memory, I experience it as my own. Therefore, Judas's memories are my memories. Her life is my life. And that may as well be my whole history since no one gets to know about anything extra. Except you, of course. ❤️"
"I kept thinking it was weird you talked about being raised Protestant when I saw your memories." It was when they started suspecting there was something else going on under the surface. But Diwa was patient enough not to ask.
They fall quiet for a second. Take a deep breath, close their eyes. Evelyn sits on the bed next to them. Diwa shakes the hair out of their face. Cheap grounding method.
They push themself to sit up and then roll over to sit over Jury's stomach. Their palms press into their chest, propping them up.
"Jury." Serious. "I want you to remain your own person. I don't want you to do that to me after I die."
She raises her eyebrows at that.
"Since when could a god die? Unless your version of godhood doesn't grant you immortality."
"Gods die all the time, my love. There's a reason so many have faded away over time." Calmly. "It's just far, far harder to kill them."
"... Mm."
Her smile fades. Matching the serious turn Diwa's taken this. Jury reaches up to stroke their cheek, studying their face.
"I am my own person. And I continue to stay so no matter who or what I eat. That... becoming... was unique. As much as I love you and wish to be tethered to you for eternity. This is me."
"You'd still deny me the pleasure of consumption?"
Their eyes suit their face a little better when they're not being coy like they were before. There's a sort of grimness to them that never fades away and aids with Diwa's air of nonchalance. In moments like these their eyes almost look mournful even if the rest of their face is strictly neutral.
"Good. I wish to remain separate, to some extent." It's not hard to see the way Jury has slowly taken to echoing some parts of Diwa already.
"I..." The trouble with a match of love instead of necessity is that feelings get in the way. They can't say whatever to please Jury and still get what they desire from her because they want it the match to work. They want to live the rest of their life with her. But it means baring their soul and being honest in a way they've never been honest before. Frankly, they hate it.
"...you'll have to warm me up to it. Maybe after a wedding. Consumption is far more drastic as a human being, you know."
It's natural, isn't it? To pick up traits from the people you love. To become a reflection of every person to have touched your heart. Normal humans, too, are vessels of memory. Identities patchworked together.
For as much as Jury has taken to echoing Diwa, hasn't Diwa been changed by her in equal measure?
"I know," she says, softly. And she does. She's experienced it firsthand, after all. Judas was conscious for it. Feedback loop.
Both hands to Diwa's cheeks, now. Cupping their lovely, grim face.
"I'll never do anything to you that you don't want me to do, my love. Just so you know."
They wouldn't know. For the most part Diwa has been an island. There was Evelyn, of course, but their fascination with her was more like the careful, gloved touch of appraising an artefact. She and Evelyn were two nothing people that had managed to find each other at the end of their ropes. Sometimes they think her ghost is only so silent because there is no substance behind it.
"Good." For most it would be a matter of knowing. But this interest of Diwa's is risky, they're aware. Their paranoid thoughts have made it all too clear. But maybe they can force themself to accept Jury's word for it.
Silence, again. Vaguely contemplative.
"Jury..." they start. "...I started flirting heavily with you because you had something I wanted. My intention was never to marry for love in this show. I was going to take power for myself. I was willing to become anyone to take it." And it's funny, as it always is, that they found each other.
"I don't believe myself to be fully who I wrote to you as. My mission above all else will always be to secure that ritual. You understand." She has no choice but to. "But I want to stay with you now. I want this to work wonderfully for the both of us."
As Diwa speaks, their jaw moves underneath her palms. Jury is silent, just relishing the feeling. She really can't keep her hands off them— greedy for touch in any form.
"... I do understand. Mm. And I wouldn't have minded. If you only settled with me because I was willing to give my life to you. If you didn't reciprocate. I love you. I hunger for you, and I'm nourished by the mere sight of you. I would be happy to be used, as long as it meant that I was the only one you could use."
A dreamy smile spreads across her face, looking up at them. Her heart. Her eternity.
"But you do love me."
"Will you tell me what the ritual entails?"
And Diwa, as always, relishes in the grounding touch. The longer Jury keeps her hands on them the more they feel properly tied to Earth, the less Evelyn's ghost stares at them through their peripheral vision. They didn't know it would be like this, but it is. They adore it.
"I do love you. It's awful, you know? It complicates everything." Diwa is, as always, pragmatic and calculated. Their feelings constantly get in the way. This is no different.
"It's complicated to explain. I'll strip it down." They let up from propping themselves up and fall against Jury's chest to lay down the ritual the way one would talk about their morning run. Make it easier to digest, maybe.
"Everyone has an energy storage inside of them. Well--I call it energy, others call it magic. It fits the vessel they were made for exactly. There is a limit to how much someone can use or have before feeling drained or full. For most supernatural beings, utilising the energy is second nature. Their storage is far bigger than a human's is, so they don't notice the loss."
"Godhood, for human beings...there's many different ways to achieve it. Mine is to implement a battery source to feed from. I will retain my own energy storage and utilise yours as well. That's what I meant when I warned you would constantly feel drained. That source of energy would no longer belong to you. We would be tethered to each other until one of us dies."
"The ritual itself is technically just a fancy sacrifice with preparations. Runes, what have you. And then I kill you. As simple and complicated as that." A pause. "...I suppose I do need your help, though. Killing you does not feel very easy."
As soon as Diwa collapses against Jury's chest, her arms are hugging them close. She takes in the explanation with a slow nod.
"Mmm... Well, my life energy is potentially limitless, as long as I eat. Humans. It's not just for pleasure or to absorb memories— while their souls still move on, the body is a source of energy, too..."
Oh, this next one is a dangerous secret to impart. If anyone should have the privilege of learning it, it's Diwa.
"I can be killed. I've experienced death a few times, already. The easiest way is to just... damage my human suit until it falls apart. I die when my physical form is separated. But I always reform, and thus revive."
"Good, then. That makes things easier." Though it means they'll have to ensure Jury gets a steady food source. Things to note for the future.
They nod slowly. Consider.
"...it'll be a bloodbath, then. Shall we get a privacy curtain as to not scare guests off before the reception?"
"Haha. I don't mind my death being on display, but for the comfort of both the audience and the TV network, we should have a privacy screen, yeah."
"I know you don't. But it's not like I want others to see your dead body either." It's a matter of jealousy, really.
"I was thinking about maybe doing it in the Appalachians, then?"
"Oh." He sounds delighted. "That would be lovely. It's beautiful this time of year. Not too hot yet. Would we want it outdoors?"
"Wouldn't it? No places in the world are really special to me. I thought you'd like it." Ever the black void, both of them.
"I was thinking something like a lodge? I'm stuck again."
"Mm. True. Cleanup will be easier indoors, anyway."
There's a pause. She's started petting Diwa's hair again.
"... Will you be able to do it? It will be very gory. We might need to get some practice in."
"........." Quiet consideration. As per usual.
"...I want to try it now. Shall we go to the bathroom? I'd hate to make the staff clean up too much blood before the wedding."
A dangerously pleased smile cuts across her face.
"You're still recovering from the blood draw, babe," she coos, pressing a kiss to their hair. Doesn't say you should take it easy. Doesn't actually contest it. She pulls them up with her from the bed and carries them off to the bathroom. She only sets them back to the ground once they're beside the tub.
"I'll probably be ravenous when I come back, but we can just order steak or something from room service~ Here, help me take this off. I'd hate to stain my new clothes."
"I didn't hear a no~" They sing-song, and Jury proves them right. Normally they would protest against being carried without warning, but they allow it now, dramatically draping themself over Jury like dead weight until they're set down.
"I'll convince Sam to make us something." Always wanting something better, naturally. They won't explain the why. Maybe they'll just say healing others has taken a toll on their dreadfully human body.
They carefully, slowly, teasingly unbutton Jury's shirt with precision unbecoming of what is a sturdy shirt. To make Jury impatient, yes, but also to calculate the best way to kill her. It'll most likely be a bloodbath, but Diwa likes being elegant. They need to find a compromise.
"It won't hurt?" Curiosity more than concern.
Ah, her lover is so vicious, teasing her like this. As Diwa undoes her buttons, Jury's hands come to rest at their waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the divots of their hips.
"It'll hurt. Badly. The pain of death is a very... metaphysical one. Difficult to articulate. Imagine the sensation of swallowing something too hot, hot enough to burn all the way down, making you too aware of the damage left behind in a place you can't reach. Then compound it a thousand times over. Burning from the inside-out and utterly unable to relieve it."
"Maybe it's different for mortals, haha. But that's how it is for me."
"Mm...I wouldn't know. Never died."
They think of how they should probably exert some concern over Jury and find that it has been buried somewhere so deep it would be impossible to dig it back up and remain themself. They wonder if Jury would prefer they show care, even if it's false.
They've been forward enough with their purpose. Jury knows that above all else they seek to ascend from their humanity. After that need comes the rest of their life. But they were a caretaker once. Enough to feel the guilt over feeling no concern about how casually they're killing their lover.
"I'd try and soothe you but I know you're probably excited about it." She wouldn't have agreed so readily otherwise. Diwa slides off the shirt and takes to folding it up. "Do you have a preference?"
"I am," Jury confirms, honey-sweet. "I want to see what kind of face you'll make when you kill me."
It's ironic, in a way, that Diwa's means of ascension is through the sacrifice of their lover's life. There is nothing more human than murder.
"Mm, no preference. Follow your whim and do whatever you like."
"I'll close your eyes." A gentle nip. No bite. They move on to unbuttoning the rest of Jury's clothes. This sounds like Jury has a lot of buttons but the only other way I could've worded that had far different connotations than 'murdering your fiancée for practice.'
"...hm." A hard decision. There are many ways to kill a human being but only so many to completely destroy their body. Inherently messy.
"...I reckon fire is the most poetic, then. I'll spice it up for us." ♥️
Jury pouts at that. Playful. "So cruel~"
One she's stripped bare, she gives Diwa a quick kiss before settling into the tub. Easier to contain the mess this way.
"Oh? ❤️ Poetic indeed. Do keep in mind that burnt flesh smells terrible, though. The oils and fats create a lot of smoke."
"Very~" They respond with a light smile.
They take the opportunity to undress down to their underwear (black btw)(obvi) as Jury gets in the tub. Just to minimise the cleanup.
"Mm....smoke. We'd surely set off the fire alarm." And that's no good. Diwa leans against the bathroom counter and looks up, thinking. For a while. And then, finally.
"I think I have an idea. Have you ever been bitten by a black widow, my love?"
"Mm. I have, but it did nothing to me at the time. Now that my body is susceptible to poison... I'd be interested to see what it would do."
"I can simulate its effects. It'll be relatively clean, too." All that bathtub prep for nothing except ogling their beautiful spouse...damn.
"...reckon I need blood for this..." Mumblemumble. They take their handy scalpel and slice their index finger. With it they begin drawing runes--the first one in the middle of Jury's chest, then trailing down. Quietly concentrated.
Don't be sad ❤️ Jury's boobs, okay...?
Diwa's focused expression is so cute. Jury can't decide whether to stare at that or at the runes they're drawing on her; she keeps glancing between them.
Okay ❤️ yay ❤️
It's a little amusing to watch her go back and forth. It makes Diwa snicker to themself some. But they quickly look back down to concentrate on runing.
"Alright. I'm going to start activating them." They press their thumb against the first rune and mutter something unintelligible.
Jury: how does necrosis feel on your newly refined body?
Really fucking bad.
||Each rune a bite, a sped-up simulation. Immediately, the skin begins to redden and swell. The skin blisters, then lesions, leaving an open sore. Jury's muscles stiffen and cramp— their body spasms— just once, just barely, a reserved expression of pain as usual. But god, the pain. Burning that spreads from each rune and settles in odd areas. It's hard to breathe. The sores turn blue-black and sink inward. Jury breaks out in a sweat. Her head falls back against the edge of the tub. Nauseous. She feels nauseous. Even more so than she did when the spells broke. What a strange sensation to feel your tissue die in mere minutes.||
A low groan leaves her. But there's a faint smile on her face.
"This fucking sucks, babe."
"I bet it does." Diwa is grateful they're not on the other end of the runes. For all their bravery and collected nature, they've always hated pain. They bear it like a duty, but part of them can't understand Jury's enjoyment.
But they have no problem dishing it out, so long as they can be the one to put them back together after.
They use their free hand to hold Jury still, the other trailing down. They have to destroy all of her body, after all, so they go down her thighs, to her ankles, and then on the other leg. Their strokes become quicker and more confident with every bite they make.
"Perhaps we can do a more traditional method for the wedding. But I am curious to see how so many bites will affect a near-human body." Women in STEM?
Diwa started out human. How could they understand? Pain is inherent to their existence, a constant if unwelcome companion. As familiar to them as their own breath. For Jury, it's all new. Never before has sensation been so vivid. What a marvel the human body is! What a blessing to be able to experience it in full, and for their lover to be the one to do this.
She's really head over heels for them. It's nice to see this cruel side of Diwa up close.
||"Ah—" Pain exploding along her legs. Her muscles give out, and Jury slumps against the tub, spasming again under Diwa's hand. Burning, burning, burning. She thinks that if she were fully human, she'd likely be having a seizure by now. Her breath comes in strained, shallow huffs. Tears prick at her eyes. She can barely hear Diwa over the overwhelming pain, let alone respond to the suggestion.||
||There's a sound like tearing fabric. Jury's skin begins to part, following the bites like a perforated line. When she said human suit, it was literal. She's about to die.||
There it is. They were curious, when they got Jury's first memory, what their form was like before. How it operated. How different it was from a regular human being's.
They tend to keep their distance from non-humans for the most part, outside of the show. People never take kindly to those who seek something from them, and Diwa is all too familiar with the hunger and desperation they would have regarded someone like Jury with if it weren't for the initial anonymity. Getting field experience so personally is a wonder for someone like them.
They lean into the tub and hold Jury's face with their blood-stained hands. Observe, expressionless, the way they show pain through their body. Finally they allow themself a small, satisfied smile.
"Good. I can kill you easily, then."
They grab a hold of the back of Jury's head with one hand, the other one still cupping her cheek, and bring her in for a kiss. A final, sealing pact before her death. Once they pull back, they draw a rune over her freshly-kissed lips.
"Thank you, love. Good night."
Feverish and immobile with pain, yet still horrifically lucid. Her eyes meet Diwa's and sparkle with adoration at their smile. That's exactly what I wanted to see.
There's not enough strength in her body to reciprocate, but she enjoys the kiss nonetheless. And then Diwa is tracing something there with their fingertip. And then every fragment of her soul is screaming in simultaneous agony. And— then—
Jury's consciousness ends.
...
||Typically, when you skin a body, it will still keep its shape. Bones held in place by tendon and muscle, organs packed safely away. Jury's skin lies torn into pieces, and the rest of its body sags with its own weight. All the layers of muscle have lost tension and are starting to fall apart, exposing glimpses of bone underneath. You could probably pull out its veins as easily as you could pluck out a loose thread from your sleeve.||
... It takes a while for anything else to happen. The mass of gore twitches. And then its mess begins to gravitate back together, skin slowly fluttering closed around it. Reformed back to that anatomy-model perfection with no lasting injury to show for it. All the previous bruises and bites littering it seem to have disappeared. The only marks that remain are the scar at Jury's neck and midriff— though they both have an odd texture. Like a visible mend on fabric. The overall process takes about ten minutes.
It takes another minute still for Jury to revive. Awareness returns to her eyes, and she blinks once, twice before focusing on Diwa. Then she smiles. Stretches, testing her reformed limbs. Takes a deep breath for the pleasure of feeling her lungs expand.
"Oh, you're vicious. I love you so much. How long was I out?"
The body grotesquely falls apart in a way unlike anything Diwa has seen before. They step back and opt to sit on the counter and wash their hands as they wait. Check their phone for the time and try and think of ways to keep guests sitting for about ten minutes without anything happening.
Then she reforms. Diwa is almost disappointed she lost all the marks--not just the spider bites, but all the other bites and bruises they'd taken the care to put on her body throughout the honeymoon, even though they can always make new ones.
"Hi, love." Pleasant. They step down from their perch and kneel beside the bathtub. Run their fingers through Jury's hair and plant a kiss against their temple.
"Ten minutes. Not too long. I don't know how you can bear it."
Ten minutes. You can feel it only because you're so close, the way Jury freezes for just a second.
"Mm. That's interesting."
She pulls herself out of the tub and reaches for her clothes.
"Haha. Well, it's not like I'm conscious of the time passing while I'm dead. There's nothing to bear."
As she's getting dressed, a sharp stab of hunger hits her core. If her stomach could rumble...
"We should really have a proper breakfast, now. Before it gets too late in the day."
"Mm...something wrong with ten minutes?" The good thing about having unnaturally stellar perception is that they can use it all on their cryptic fiancé. Yay ❤️
"Ah...we wasted the blood I gave you. What a shame." 💔
They shrug on their clothes on as well, having made the tactical decision to stay undressed until Jury regenerated.
"I'm starving. Should we go to one of the restaurants?" Neither of them can cook.
"Yes, that would be nice. ❤️ Our brunch date. ❤️ "
Jury twirls her hair, contemplative.
"... Normally... It's almost instantaneous. It should take no more than a minute to reform. But... mm. I suppose my body is more complex now." Inconvenient. She might have to get rid of some stuff, so the wedding runs more smoothly. What a shame.
"Well." It's like they almost sense what they're thinking. Uncanny blood bond fiancé connection. "It's a good thing, isn't it? It makes it all the sweeter to do these kinds of things."
Today they put their hair up! Revolutionary, really.
"I may think more on the way I want to kill you, though. But it was a fun experiment for the both of us." <3