[open] shaking like a leaf on any god-given night; any

[Beelzebub]

you are sacred because i have made you sacred.

B e e l z e b u b

His golden eyes watch her as though any minute she might lunge for him. He watches the way her lips twitch into something equally uneasy. The urge to leave this place angers him and he defies it by remaining firmly in place. Beelzebub has never known fear and he does not permit the feeling to fester in his chest today. Instead, he sinks his teeth into the way his hairs stand on end near her, anchors himself to it.

“Cordis,” he parrots, and her name is static across his tongue. The only name his mother ever taught him was his father’s, and he cared little for even that lesson. He begins to circle her as he plunges headfirst into his discomfort. Either he will acclimate to this dreadful sensation or she will put an end to it, he decides.

“I don’t know anyone like you,” he thinks aloud, neither hostile or inviting. “Maybe you knew Ophanim or Glassheart.”

He shrugs, watches her face for some telltale shift. Beelzebub cannot recognize the exquisite ache of a broken heart and so her expression only further confounds him. He has only ever known obsession and greed, cruelties he can afford to withstand. To be loved seems too heavy a cross for him to bear, he thinks.

He comes to a stop beside her now. Slowly, at the rate caves birth their stalactites, he leans his shoulder to hers.

there is no burning that i did not create.

@[Cordis]