Ereshkigal stood in the moonlight garden, lifting her face up to the moon. It's pale light shone on her face and she closed her eyes to listen to the night. Nergal whispered soft things to her.
He will come. He promised, my dark one. He of the many eyes will come. He is one of us, one of shadows and darkness.Yes, he was.
His hair was as black as night. The roses he wore in his hair seemed to almost be black too, but when she had moved closer she saw that they were really the darkest shades of grey. They were not quite a true black. The largest rose looked at her with a blinking eye, and she wondered if it felt to Seraphiel as though she was looking into his eyes when she beheld that rose.
Eyes. All over his body. She had counted them the once. Ten there were that moved or stood still, never blinking. What beauties they were. She had never seen anything more beautiful.
His wings were feathered but leathery like bats, like the soft whisper of her shadow minions. They made the same sound, a soft beautiful music to her ears that made her heart race.
Webs were bound around his mouth, his leg and neck. She wondered if those webs held his secrets close as she held him? Was she his secret too? She was the first true secret of her soul, the one true and powerful thing that had found root in her heart.
Feathers seemed to be perpetually falling around him as though perhaps he'd fallen from grace? But if that was so, she was happy for it. What did she know of grace? Or heaven? Only hell, only her dark lairs of underworld caverns. One day, she would reign Queen of it and Queen of his heart, perhaps.
Though the feathers fell, there never seemed to be a shortage. Ereshkigal found herself wanting to keep a feather like a smitten schoolgirl to remember him by. But she would have no need to remember him, he would come for. He would always come for her. He had promised and he would never break that oath. Not ever.
On his body the greys faded into a pale pinkish tone like the sky just before the sunset. It was as though the colours of day were receding and leaving behind pale remembrances of themselves on his skin.
Her darling of falling shadows. Hers, hers alone. She would not share him or lose him. Seraphiel was hers for all the ages of this world and any thereafter. Because, she would have what she wanted and all she had ever wanted was him.
When he stepped into the little garden, her heart surged at the sight of him bathed in moonlight.
Mine, Seraphiel. Mine.Strifeling
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