A R T W O R K
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CALVIN WAS WRONG. Dimitri had not been keeping time since that first breakfast — the last they had all been together in peaceful conversation — but he was sure it had been twenty or so years since. Days bled on to months and months to years. After keeping score of the first three, Dimitri decided it would be futile to carve more lines into the marble walls since he ran out of space.
For years, nothing interesting happened around the castle walls. He heard whispers about the development of new species, occasionally he trained with Fabian in friendly combat, and found time in experimenting with his newfound abilities. Other times, Dimitri kept to himself in the gardens, flowers blooming around him only to die as quickly after.
However, after such a long silence, a new gossip was spread and Dimitri was the one that told it.
Someone had died.
"Abel..." With a name under his breath, Dimitri found it curious how he could see the deceased's face in his mind. He could picture every curve of his appearance, the bright green of his eyes, and even the hair of dirt brown. The man was very much alive in Dimitri's imagination, but in reality, he was dead.
Hours after Dimitri first learned of Abel's name, with the image of his face haunting Dimitri's mind, the latter decided to pick up a quill and sketch on the parchment. Using the random pieces of paper that littered his room, Dimitri began to outline the main features before sketching into detail. His hands moved with practiced grace as if he had been doing this for his entire existence.
When a knock came from Dimitri's door long after the sun had set, Dimitri finally looked up from his artwork. It had been years since someone visited his room and he was curious to know who it was that finally dared to knock.
"Come in," he called out. No sooner after he had spoken, a figure stepped in gracefully, blond hair almost glowing in the dark and aquamarine eyes dancing with the flames that flickered from Dimitri's oil lamp.
"Drawing?" Lucifer asked, eyeing the parchment with great interest.
Once Dimitri realized it was Lucifer, he turned his attention back to the project he was working on. His back, however, was straighter, posture taller, and mind more wary of his surroundings. An enemy had just walked into his den.
"What do you want?" Instead of replying, Dimitri fired back at Lucifer with a question of his own. Gently, he dipped the quill back into the pot of ink, allowing it to rest there before pushing the drawing to a side.
Lucifer's lips twitched in amusement. "Nothing much. Just wanted to see how well you were faring. It's been years."
"You would be the last person that could have the heart to care, Lucifer. Such a brazen proclamation, you've just made."
"Unlike what you and your brothers think, I do have the heart to care about those who were once under my wing."
Dimitri thought he heard a flinch in Lucifer's voice when he had said that last word. However, the former decided to pay no mind to it. Only angels could have wings. As the demon king, Lucifer had no right to dream of such fantasies. Not anymore and maybe even from the start.
"It has been years, Lucifer. My days had been silent. Why did you suddenly intrude?"
"Ah," Lucifer smiled this time. It was brighter, bolder, stronger. "A little bird that has been flitting about the new realm of Earth had told me that someone just committed a grave sin. Murder, they said it was. What is more, I've heard sources tell me that a brother had betrayed another due to jealousy and greed. Such an interesting tale, is it not?"
In an almost painfully slow manner, Lucifer traced his finger over the dried black ink of the parchment, outlining the features of the deceased man's face. The right corner of his lips tilted upwards toward the sky sinisterly. Dimitri hated that smug look that hung on Lucifer's face but alas he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
"Oh?" He feigned ignorance, slumping down onto the soothing silk sheets of his bed as if he had not a single care in the world. "How strange, these humans are to follow in the footsteps of the devil."
"Yes," Lucifer agreed. "What is even more strange is that apparently, you seem to know the deceased's face like it was one you grew up with. I never knew you could draw so well, Dimitri."
Dimitri's eyes, which had been slowly fluttering shut, burst right open. He was caught red-handed and he felt as though he had committed a great sin that could have him cast out of even Hell itself. Bolting upright in the bed, Dimitri glowered at his superior.
"Get to the point, Lucifer. What is it that you truly desire from me?"
"Easy." Gently, Lucifer placed the parchment down onto the desk, careful not to crease the paper in any way. "All I want is for you to train under me again. I know that you have a newfound set of powers that you do not understand. It has been twenty long years and yet you still cannot properly control them. Don't you wish to learn? Finally take control of who you are again?"
Albeit, the thought was very attractive. In a world where one had to adapt to survive, maybe Dimitri had to be able to put his grudges aside just enough so that he could better himself. If he learned enough, he might be able to overthrow the devil and set his old plan into motion.
However, agreeing to train with Lucifer would hurt his pride and the latter seemed to have known that all too well. If the others had caught sight of it, they might assume that Dimitri was committing an act of betrayal to their brotherhood. It was a matter that required further discussion with those Dimitri saw closest to him but his decision was made in that very room.
"What do you gain from training me?" Instead of answering, Dimitri threw the question back at Lucifer with caution in his irises.
"Nostalgia." The blond waved a nonchalant hand in the air, shrugging. "Call it good will, call it an experiment, anything. What is the use of having knowledge if one doesn't share?"
"Knowledge?" Dimitri scoffed. "I doubt you'll know more than I do."
"I know what you are, if it counts. I know why you are like this as well. You are meant for something bigger than what you were originally made for; something everlasting."
Interest heightened, Dimitri stood to his feet. He kept his distance from Lucifer, afraid that a close proximity will betray his emotions. Thoughts were flying across his mind, some of which were ones that Dimitri could not seem to catch. Curiosity was the greatest one of them all for it begged to be quenched.
If Lucifer knew such a simple thing, perhaps he also knew how Dimitri could be treated and cured. Ever since the tattoos had appeared, Dimitri could feel his own life fluctuating with the glow of the unique ink. When it was bright, he felt alive. When it dimmed, Dimitri could feel every inch of his skin burn and ache like he had been shot with a poisoned arrow. Although it was a stretch, Lucifer might just have the solution to Dimitri's problem.
"Alright then. What am I?"
The grin that stretched across Lucifer's face was malicious. Its joy danced with the light but the physical smile was unwavering and, at that moment, seemingly eternal.
"You are existence after demise. Creation after destruction. You were formed by a life that was sacrificed to save yours out of love and nothing more. My dear friend, you are Death himself."
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