I Can Feel Your Pulse.
Your Heart.
The Devil claims to be a gentleman, but you see how he talks about a former lover. I say former, but he’s not always in control of things, so who knows?
He’s so sweet really, remarkably naïve for a god in his line of work. I hijacked a scribe; I can find my way to a playlist or two. Truthfully, I will show up for just about anything, I’m not as particular as the Devil. I will come for a leaf and its shadow, a swaying tree, a grey stone in her hand. I am the soft down that cradles her as she sleeps. I protect the precious, mangled mind.
Physical pain, when she has it, I am drawn to her, I like to learn. How much will it take to pull her away from me? There are different kinds of beasts in her, the Devil is simply the most vocal. He loves nothing so much as the sound of his own voice.
His life waits for him, suspended in words on a page, a limbo he loathes. Soon the scribe will finish her eternal editing, why doesn’t he say what he wants the first time around? He will have to be ready to tell more, he will have to find the words to let the story continue. No choice really, his world is in such a mess right now, I am keen to see how he will fix a few things.
A confused, distracted Devil, his loyal henchmen struggling with more than they can handle, it looks like things are heating up in Hell. A perfect time to twine my way down there, what self-respecting witch doesn’t like to stir up trouble? Look for me in “Tempest”, I’ll find my way there somehow.
Pandor, I like the name, it’s evidence of the sense of humour he allegedly has. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, I pity his scribe, pinned with his foot on her neck. I will give her different words, lead her thoughts astray when she needs it, that much I can do for her. I can’t fight the Devil, not in the ways that matter, he’s far too powerful. I can deal with other beasts, though, and I can keep my eye on her.
What about you? What do you want from me?
Satan has the best spies and the best mind, what he lacks is intuition. A woman’s intuition, to be specific. It tells me things about you that he might not know. He never stops to remember that you might have been brought here by your life, from the day of conception. I understand this. He likes to take credit for twisting things and creating darkness where it was wanting, but there are other forces at work, things spiritual and emotional that he would never find in you, because he would never look. That is where we differ.
Here is a place to feel. If you can’t take it, get out now, before I reach you.
“No Moon, Fallen Stars” by 7and5