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It was late evening, the bright sun dipping down over the far hills on the far side of the Samegawa, and before her violet eyes there were colors of all different shades playing gently along the rippling, crystal waters smoothly running from her right to her left across the breadth of her sight. She barely noticed. Her eyes were distant and glassy, as if remembering some long-forgotten memory from a world away; this was the first time that she had ever been called out to meet him, the first time she could remember ever having the opportunity to choose whether or not she encountered that man, alluring and powerful as he always seemed to be. Until now, their meetings had been accidental at worst, fortuitous at best, him always happening along when she found herself without a direction or in the most desperate hours of need. He was always grinning, sly and mischievous as he was, and he always knew just the right things to say if he wanted to make her flush or bolster her confidence or whatever it was that she needed, but didn't know she needed to feel. It was simply as though he were there to fill her gaps, but knowing what she knew about him now she could not help but wonder if it was really what it appeared on the surface. Was any of it real? And why now, of all times, had he chosen to reach out to her and invite her to meet him on the banks of the Samegawa as the fading sun goes to rest, this growing, twilight hour where day died and night was born again upon this town that she had grown to love? Did he intend to make excuses? Did he intend to reason with her? Would he explain anything at all, who he was, where he had come from, or...would he simply remain as ambiguous and mysterious as he had always been, right until the end? What was it that he had wanted from her, really, right from the very beginning? But more importantly, more prevalent than his answers were those that she would provide herself.

What was it that she wanted from him, anyway? Why did she always come back to him? Why could she never stop herself from reacting when she knew that she wanted to be with someone else? And really...did she even want to know the answers? He was like a mystery of the world, dark and confusing and temptation incarnate, and to strip away that allure, that enticing haze and see what really lay beneath the surface...would she like what she found? Or would the shine be gone, the mystery faded, and one of the last unanswered questions, the magic in her life, ended without satisfaction? She had lingered here for hours, having arrived far early, the warm green grass beneath her fingers and her skirt where she had sat upon the bank and watched the water flow by, but she was no closer to any real answers than she had been when she started. Warm air like the breath of God drifted across the back of her neck and sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. ...Or maybe it was the voice that sounded then, smooth and silk and silver as ever, finally saving her from the uncertain respite of her memories as her thoughts.

"I once knew a demon who lived in a cave at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains," the voice began, and her eyes closed gently as she was whisked away by the visions that his stories always brought, a cool gray mountainside crowned by milky white snow caps, the breathtaking journey from top to bottom, and the image of this dark cave, carved away into the side of the leviathan of rock...and a demon, perhaps hunched and gray with monstrous fangs she pictured it being, though she knew that wasn't quite how all demons were from her own experiences. And the man whose voice played her like a harp just now was proof enough, wasn't he? She could see his smiling face inside of her mind, pale skinned with that thin facial hair that made him look smooth and rough around the edges all at the same time...but she could see beneath it as well, that thin smile, those mirthful eyes, that long, thin, blond hair that his mask of humanity hid. Master of guile he was, and he had come to her again for one final trick. Or perhaps, a revelation. She was listening again before she realized it and his story continued, painting a picture for her of this selfish thing, this monster, and what Lewis Keys knew of it. Her voice was carrying her away on the soft breeze once more. "There was an outlying village nearby that he watched with great envy. For hundreds of years he had seen the humans who lived there rise and fall, born, growing old, and dying, living out their beautiful lives and withering away into dust. Their lives were but mayflies to the demon, whose enduring existence made him cling more tightly to the humans that he watched. He envied them, you know. For their lives were finite, and the knowledge that they would die enriched them, it drove them to live and love and to appreciate the time they had. They were born into homes that kept them warm with families who loved them; the demon watched with great envy, each year feeling his cave grow a little wider and emptier, chill a little colder, as though his skin were turned to stone. Men and women lived and died, each unique and different from one another, and he bore for each of them some measure of appreciation and envy. Still, he was only an observer, never involving himself with their lives for he did not belong among them. That was, until she was born..."

Some time during the beginning of his tale he had crossed the distance between them and now the man once called 'Gigolo' leaned with his back against hers, seated upon the grass with his head touching hers gently. His voice was smooth and sweet and soft, like liquid and honey, and it trickled into her ears like a quiet stream, much softer than the calm river in front of her. She didn't need to see him to picture the expression on his lips, slightly amused but mostly thoughtful, as if remembering lifetimes beyond her reckoning, pulling out some image from a long-forgotten era that she could never hope to see with her own eyes, only through his words and memories. Like phantom whispers and ghosts brought to life by an enchanted tongue, the breath of life like the embers of the Eternal Flame that he had once let dance across his fingers to breathe life into humanity once before. Specters living again, he called upon the images and she watched with her mind's eye the tale of the Devil of the Carpathians and the memoirs of the Trickster, Lewis Keys.

"...She was a child unlike any other, beautiful from the first, she grew and shined and became a light to the village unlike any other in all the decades that they had been watched. She was dark-skinned, like a mixture of rich caramel and milk chocolate, sweet and bright with a smile that could make the stars seem pale by comparison. Brown eyes like deep pools and dark, onyx hair framed a dark and fair countenance, and her chaste affection spread through a village that glowed more brilliantly than ever before. And the demon grew to love her as well, cherishing the young woman as though she were his own. Watching her, he felt compelled with an uncommon desire. Unmoving as he had been for centuries, the fire inside of the vigilant demon was awoken. His cave had become unbearably cold and frightfully empty, vast and dark, and he could hardly stand it any longer. ...It was on the day that the girl was promised to wed the village elder's son that the devil knew he could bear his idle fancy no longer, the rocks of the mountain cried and shook, the village felt the rumble of his feet and heard the earth's bellowing as he walked down the forgotten path from his cave to the village. He approached the girl's father as the village's men came together to meet this grew shadow that had fallen upon them...and do you know what he did?" His lips curled into a small smirk as he glanced back over his shoulder, his blue-tinted eyes meeting her violet ones and instantly they connected, a moment of liquid fire coursing through both their veins as all the intensity inside of them threatened to boil over, his alluring stare, her beautiful eyes, and only when she vaguely shook her head did he break the glance and smile wider, glancing up towards the skies overhead before closing his eyes in memory, "This demon that had lived alone for centuries beyond count, that in ancient days had not cared one instant for the lives of men, stood proudly before this gaggle of humanity...but rather than demand or take the demon asked the girl's father, 'Let me live among you and I will give you my protection. Great and terrible am I, Lord of these mountains, and no invader would ever pass into your lands before meeting with my wrath. This is my offer. In return, I ask only for this man's daughter, for in centuries there has been no other to match her. Know that I could take her at my will and I am impatient! Deny me, and you may provoke my wrath! And yet I ask you first for I have long watched this village from my mountain and do not desire to end it. ...Now what is your answer?' At length the demon spoke and was now finished, he stood before the villagers who, by and most, could not believe their fortune. For the demon was as like a god to them, descended from the mountain, offering itself as their village patron to defend it from all who would threaten their peaceful life. But amongst the dissenters was the elder, whose pride in his son's bride (he had chosen her himself and as elder could not be challenged) was great, and above the clamor his voice rose highest amongst them, answering the demon with little care. He said, 'Say not that you wish to live amongst us, for you are demon and would surely drive our people to distrust and madness! Your price is too steep, devil. Risk your wrath, shall we? Return to your cave! You are great, but we are many.' And though the villagers were frightened they could not disobey their leader, thus they took up arms and bore them against the demon as proof of their claim. ...They attacked him in hopes of driving him from the village, and the demon was conflicted."

"Conflicted, how?" came the voice of the girl from behind him, interrupting his story out of curiosity as she glanced back over her shoulder towards the smooth man, though he made no offer to turn...only the corner of his lips quirked in response, "If they attacked him, he should have fought back."

"Perhaps," his smirk was in his voice, but it was still distant, "but you see, for decades his cave had become colder. His mountains more vast, but also more empty. And by contrast...it was the village that became warmer. Years had been kind, and it seemed that in all the years he had been watching it had become more and more populous, fuller, centuries of memory and voices and faces pushing its limits to the very brim. And the demon had, unwittingly, grown fond...of the girl most of all." She nodded in understanding, things beginning to make sense for her more than before, and Lewis glanced at the sky mildly, a wry curl at the edge of his handsome lips. "Long years of observation had come to an end for the demon. And confronted now by the village that he had watched all the time, he found himself stricken by inaction, an unwillingness to destroy this place that had become so full and warm inside of his mind. An unfamiliar stirring was building up inside of him...and when the villagers lashed out at him, he took their barbs, words, and clubs against his thick skin and felt himself breaking down bit-by-bit, falling to his knees, but not a hand was raised against them. He fell and bled, the villagers driven mad by the sight of his blood they only attacked harder, growing more and more violent at the belligerence of their great elder. Here now, the demon was to face the mortality of humanity that had long eluded him, and he was bitter. But he could not fight back. He could only let himself be swept upon this current and carried along, too deep was he to ever turn back. His vision grew dark as the night pressed upon them, and the torture seemed endless. He could not sleep nor die, not yet. Deep grew the moon and its light shone down on the town, which the demon could see with fading eyes through the throng of bodies and the renewed attacks. ...And it continued into the morning, for three days, an unending torture did the demon suffer, his eyes watching longingly for one last glimpse of her amongst the village. He thought that if he could see her it would all be worth it. He could not regret leaving the empty cave. He could not regret abandoning the vast, empty mountains. But for three days and nights there was no sight, and his life was draining from him."

"And then what happened?" she asked, on-edge now, riveted by the fate of the suddenly-pitiable demon, but the look that came over Lewis just then wasn't sad, but...satisfied, relieved, happy? "Lewis, what...?"

"You know that's not my name," he interrupted, sharply, but not an attack...simply a declaration, there was no need to hide behind a mask any longer. And when he spoke again, he was just as he was before, the story pressing on as ever, "On the eve of the fourth night, just as the moon grew full, the demon's vision failed him. It was dark now, utterly, but he could feel the villagers' blows as acutely as ever. He could feel the warmth of the town begin to steal away from him. Only then...just at his wit's end...it ended. Just like that, a flash of white pain and then there was no more...an empty moment, like floating on a cloud, and then there was a touch..." Suddenly a soft hand touched the cheek of Amelia, featherlight, gentle, the caress of a lover so precious as though it might shatter like glass, it brushed the skin and his body was suddenly before her, crouching low, eyes intense, full, as much as they ever could be were focused upon her as he leaned forward, breath warm against her ear as he turned his neck in to face her, bodies so close she could feel his heat against the growing chill in the air. "...And then a voice whispered in his ear. Soft, tender, he knew that voice well, and his heart, long-forgotten, swelled inside of his chest. 'Welcome home,' she had whispered lovingly, like ambrosia it intoxicated him, and all his pain and tension seemed to fade away. Here, he thought, here is the thing that I have been waiting for. And it was...for years the village had endeared itself to him, and her most of all. Stealing away the warmth of his lonely cave, the demon had wanted more than anything to go to this place that was so full of life and memory, to live amongst them and share in their mortal existence. This terrible, monstrous thing had been living like stasis...life duller and colder as the years stretched on, innumerable. And yet now, at the end, this beautiful woman had reached out to him just as his life was slipping away from him. This town which had tortured him emotionally for years and physically for days was finally done fighting him...and they were calling him home. And for this demon that had lived for years beyond count, this creature blinded in its fading hours, it was the most beautiful thing that he could imagine..."

"It wanted to speak, to say something in return, but the demon was too far gone. And on the footsteps of the town that it had watched and grew to love, cradled in the arms of the woman that had enamored him to finally step outside of his home and seek something more, that demon died. With a smile on its face, it passed from the world. And the girl who he had loved buried the demon in a small lot behind her home, a tree with black leaves growing tall in the years that came thereafter where its body had been planted. She visited the site for years thereafter, a quiet reverie in which she spoke to the spirit of the departed demon. ...And she never married, or forgot that demon, a silent understanding of the lonely soul that had long watched them and sacrificed its life in pursuit of something better, never...until the day she died."

Lewis pulled back then, his eyes finding Amelia's once more with a look more intense than ever...and instantly heat pooled in the porcelain cheeks of the lovely young woman. His lips curled as she glanced away suddenly, shaken by the suddenly serious but still-mirthful expression upon his handsome face. Finding the grass with her eyes, she caught her breath she didn't know she was holding and huffed just a little, before speaking up once again. It was an intense story, so much to take in, but... "I don't understand," she whispered, "...why are you telling me this story?" To this question, he only smiled.

"You've been asking yourself for some time now, haven't you?" he whispered, leaning in close, so close that she could almost taste him...that mixture of allure and skin that she was so getting used to, she could almost feel his smirk, "For what reason does Loki, Odin's son, this mischievous demon who has been watching this town, have in me? ...Have you not?" His words were whispered against her lips, and unconsciously, she felt herself tugged a little closer to him, not by hands or fingers but some warm, magnetic pull...as though he were luring her in and her body was acting on sheer instinct.

"...Yes..." the word was hot, breathy, almost self-conscious...she had been wondering, had for months now. Who was she to him? What did he want from her? Why...?

"Because I've been watching," suddenly there was a ghosting of lips over lips, a brush at most, but something for certain...she wanted more, "and of all jewels, you are the brightest..." Another soft kiss followed, precious, intensity and care unlike anything she could imagine from his skilled lips.

"Mmhm...?" words were beyond her now, only sounds, raw, emotions and feelings leaking out where questions could no longer suffice. This was a heart talking to a heart, not brains, not language, but communication on the most intimate level. She leaned in, and this time she kissed him, but his words were still there against her lips...a lingering reminder, a feeling and a sound and a taste that she would always remember. And perhaps, after all the questions and mysteries...an answer that made her body tingle and her heart leap inside of her chest like a statue brought to life.

"...Perhaps even Loki simply wanted something to come home to..."

Then he kissed her, hard and sweet, her mind washed of all thoughts and the sight of the Samegawa River flooded out by the all-encompassing feeling of his full embrace. It was an answer in physical form, more than even his silver tongue could embellish (with language, at least)...

And then in an instant, like a cloud of dust caught up in the wind, he was gone. Like a ghost exorcised from the world or a memory forgotten, he disappeared in a flash...the feeling on her lips remaining, the warmth of his body still lingering against her skin. Memories burned like a brand into her body, never to fade, never to be forgotten...

But from that day on until the day she died, though always she found herself on the riverbank waiting, sometimes aimlessly hopeful for a whisper of that voice, for that ghost-like touch upon her skin, for one last look at that devil's smile...he was never heard from again.

...

~END~