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Cho Gi Seok

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In her experience, dead people didn't need trinkets. Antique stores existed for a reason. But just thinking that, Nestor knew it wasn't quite right. He had murdered all these people. Consumed them. And this was one box out of... who knows how many.

Mementos. So, he kept them as trophies?

She felt conflicted as she watched him, trying to determine if this was another cruel streak of his or sincerity that just lacked a moral compass. Her eyes watched him leave her company to go to a hidden room. Upon opening it, her eyes widened. She felt her heart drop into her stomach at how large the hidden room was and how full it was - even from a distance, she could see it was staggering.

No wonder he was so competent. He had consumed so many humans. These trinkets may not mean much to her, she may not usually have a care to utilize the belongings of the dead but... this... this was--

Nestor stood up and moved closer, staring into the room. Leftovers. Remnants of hundreds, thousands, more?? humans. It was a graveyard, tucked away neatly in his own private section of his domain.

He urged her to pick something. One thing. Nestor stepped through the threshold and looked down at the box in her hands of the newest victims. Her hands trembled lightly as she set it down near others - near the front, where all his latest victims seemed to be kept. Like placing a stone atop a pile of them. Another for the collection. Her body felt tense and she couldn't summon the courage to look at him yet, for she didn't know what her expression was in this moment. It all felt so overwhelming as she looked at every single thing she could see in her line of sight.

Who were you? Her mind repeated again and again. If Adrian had been here, she would have asked and documented everything if possible. But Nestor was not her, she felt frozen for a moment too long.

This was a lot. This was so much. How was she ever going to try guide Doma onto a less brutal path?

She stepped backwards, half out of the room and half in it. He offered her a gift. He was being a friend. Rejecting what could be considered a selfless act from Doma could make things harder. She had to swallow her personal feelings on the matter, at least a little bit.

Her hand reached out and took his, needing something to ground her. Seeing as Doma was the only one present, he also would have to be just that. She took lead, walking through the room - deeper and deeper. "I don't know if I could choose." She admitted, for more reasons than one. He said the oldest of things were at the back. At the back... near his own beginning.

"I want to see something from the era you were born into. Can you show me anything in here that stands out to you?" Nestor asked. In part, she was sincere - in another part, it was to keep him occupied as she thought quickly. A chance to know him more, a chance to wrap her head around all of this.

"...If you're letting me pick something, I think something that also represents you is important." She added, swallowing the shakiness from her tone as she managed a little anxious smile.

His smile grew wider, his eyes shimmering with mischief. "I usually keep them as mementoes. But since you're here now, I thought it would be nice to share them with someone who appreciates... the finer things in life."

He stood up, his movements fluid and graceful, a stark contrast to the horror of his actions. He walked across the room with a predatory grace that sent a chill down her spine, despite the warmth of his touch. Opening a door she hadn't noticed before, he revealed a chamber that seemed to stretch on forever, filled with the treasures of a thousand lives.

The room was vast, the walls lined with shelves that held boxes upon boxes. Each one was a silent testament to a soul consumed by his insatiable hunger. The sheer volume of them was staggering, a grim reminder of the countless lives he had taken. Yet, amidst the macabre collection, there was something oddly fascinating about the array of trinkets and treasures.

He watched her with a gleam in his eye, his smile never wavering as she took in the sight before her. "Choose something." He urged, his voice softer now. "A token of your newfound place here."

The room was indeed vast, a treasure trove of a monster. Boxes upon boxes filled with personal effects, each one a silent cry for justice. The jewelry gleamed in the candlelight, the metals winking at her as if to say, "Pick me, tell their stories." It was a morbid museum to his carnage. As he walked inside, the room was bigger than it looked, starching down for as far as the eye can see, as he looked around, tripping over boxes, tables filled with clothing and vases, he could eat flesh, bone, drink blood, but somethings, well he could not eat.

Besides, what was he meant to do, throw these things into the trash, there are items over three hundred years old here, worth no doubt, millions at auction as he walked through them, stepping on them like they are nothing, humans and the value of money and worth was always odd to him, they come here, where what they think is worth the most and when he eats them, like there skulls, he stores there belongings as well, a temple of death, pain and sorrow, thousands of stories laid here, so many lives all taken by him as he skipped down clapping his hands.

“You can take one thing from here, the further you go back, the older the stuff gets.”

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Nestor fell quiet the more he talked. On one hand, she was glad he felt free for the first time. He could have his own agency in full, completely autonomy over himself. And yet, that also meant he answered to no one now. She valued free will but there was a reason she was content being an agent - it meant she had others to guide her when she was unsure of her own morality.

It was likely harder for Doma to process morality when he already struggled to feel things earnestly. At least she could recall her own emotions, even if they felt more like memories a lot of the time. Dreams of someone else's life.

Her head turned slightly, noting momentarily the proximity of their faces as he recanted his tale. Her eyes widened slightly as it sank in, as she realized he was reassuring her for taking out his master. No wonder he felt so confident bringing her out of his personal domain, to expand into Japan when it would have originally been his goddess's territory.

He already... killed her. And any loyalists.

She had been ready to praise him for seeing the worth of his own individuality but it hit her hard when she understood fully the context of what he was saying. All the threats that could have once caused him problems, that would have devoured her easily, were gone.

Nestor listened as Doma spoke about it so nonchalantly. When they first met, he was borderline obsessive over his master and now he couldn't care less about ending her. About ending those he used to serve her with. She didn't realize she had sat forward to watch him speak until she felt his hand trailing up her back, tracing mindless patterns along her spine. Reflexively, she shuddered lightly. Japan was his personal testing ground to learn, to expand with. He wanted to go farther, expand his reach to everywhere.

He wanted the world for himself. For... them? She noted his addition. Looping her into it.

The agent always knew he wouldn't stop with Japan, she just hoped they'd bond and grow to find a healthy compromise. One that satisfied him and didn't compromise her morality. While she wasn't throwing it out the window completely, in this moment she felt that was a growing impossibility. Her hand lifted to cover her racing heart as all the pieces fell into place. All the reasons she found Doma to be terrifying were right here, out in the open. And yet the two of them were lounging on the couch as if it was anything but.

She knew he could accomplish this. She saw how he handled his own domain, she witnessed him expand into Japan. Overtaking it piece by piece. And now she knew his demonic opposition was dead. He could succeed. What did that mean for her people? For humanity as a whole?

And then the worst thing he could have done he did. So simply. She watched him cut his own hand and bleed into a glass with a pleased smile on his face. As if nothing about this situation was fucked up. So... utterly fucked.

Shit. Shit! He had once said he wanted her to be a demon and now he was offering her to make that happen. No... No this wasn't what she wanted. Nestor looked between his face and the glass he held. If she drank that she wouldn't be human any longer. If she drank that there was a very real possibility she'd lose her autonomy.

The way he worded it was meant to be tempting, she could tell. Manipulation. Promising her so much but it was all things she didn't want. Not really.

"I... Doma, I can't." Nestor scooted back on the couch, untangling from him to sit on the opposite end. Away from the glass of blood in his hand. "I thought you just said you valued my humanity. That we balanced one another..."

Her eyes flickered to the blood, fear evident in her bright eyes before she looked away. Looked down. Saw her arm with his teeth marks all over it just from earlier this night alone. "Fuck. Is that why you kept feeding on me while I slept?! One last hurrah before you tried to turn me?" She brought her marked arm closer to herself.

"Being a demon is great for you, but it wouldn't be for me. I'm not like you. I couldn't." She knew her own morality. Her real morality and the morality she tried to adhere to. Without the latter, she would fall apart. It would be something to experience being a demon, to understand a part of Doma she couldn't fully-- but without having a cure in her hands to use anytime she needed to, she couldn't in good faith humor any of this. Not for the people counting on her, not for herself.

His grin grew wider, his teeth gleaming like sharpened fangs in the soft light. "Free?" He murmured, his eyes glinting as he replaced the eye with a smooth motion. "It's exhilarating. The moment I realized I no longer had to answer to anyone but myself, it was as if a weight had been lifted." He leaned closer, his breath tickling her cheek as he whispered. "And the fear in their eyes when they understand, when they realize that their 'savior' is not a tool to be wielded by another... It's intoxicating."

As he would nod his head. “And don’t worry, I took care of her and those loyal to her, I ate them all, just cannot leave loose ends running around.” As he held out his palm, and walked his fingers over it, like he was crushing little ants, he ate the demon king and there upper moons, it was always his plan, from the moment he had been turned into a demon, he was not a follower, he could not be like the sheep, he was a leader, he had been told that his entire life.

He was special.

As he would chuckle. “She didn’t like it.” He shrugged, but then again it was her fault, weakness cannot lead, only the strong, and there was no one stronger than him, he had adapted to being a demon, better than the demon that created him, it was as if he had always been a demon and he was just waiting for the moment for it to become the truth.

His hand trailed up from the small of her back, his claws tracing patterns along her spine. "As for Japan, it's a mere stepping stone. I can feel the power surging within me, growing stronger with every follower who joins the Eternal Paradise Cult. Soon, I will own this entire world." He paused, his gaze flicking to hers, watching her reaction closely. "And together, we can make it a paradise, free of pain and suffering."

He was not trying to scare her, after all he told her he had been busy, busy, like a little bee, what did she think he was doing, lazing around all the time, as he looked at her, his eyes shone with a fierce determination, a hunger that was almost palpable. It was clear that he was not just speaking in metaphors; he truly believed that he could reshape the world in his image. And the scariest part was, someone like her, who knew him, well she couldn't entirely dismiss the possibility.

He had already proven himself to be a formidable force, one that could not be underestimated.

With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed an empty glass from the table and brought it closer to them. He took a knife that was resting on the counter, flipped it over, and with a swift motion, he sliced through the flesh of his palm. As he smiled, watching the crimson drops fell into the glass, filling it with a macabre liquid that seemed to pulse with a dark energy. He offered it to her, his smile never wavering. "Drink, please." He urged, his voice a seductive purr. "Together, we can be gods, shaping the future as we see fit."

As he held the glass to her face. “Go on, it will hurt for like, one second, but you will feel so much better, this is my gift to you, you get to be the first ever demon I create, you will be perfect as well, you will finally be free of this boring life, I am offering you … everything.”

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Nestor let out a little groan as he picked her up and spun her around. When she thought he was content and would put her down, he didn't. Instead, he was carrying her. She knew that his demonic strength made her virtually weightless to him but she couldn't help but glower a little at how he toted her around and manhandled her upon a whim.

His answer told her everything she needed to know and the question he returned made her scoff a little. "I'm not a believer. How many times..." She squinted, stopping herself. He was probably just looking for a reaction.

"I slept well. Thank you." Nestor answered with instead once he set her down. Her hands smoothed out her skirt and shirt, tidying herself back into place after his little stunt of carrying her about.

As he walked, she followed. It was that or wander aimlessly until she memorized his personal wing. He brought her back to that room from yesterday, where he made her watch him devour twelve women. The same room that no doubt he used last night, too.

In fact, she knew it. That coppery scent in the air. The place was clean, spotless. But the way their eyes met, it was clear she could smell what others would have overlooked. She'd be a terrible agent otherwise.

She said when he guided her to do so, plopping down neatly upon one of the cushions. His cheerful tone made her skeptical but she led with giving him the benefit of the doubt as he pulled forth a box. Jewelry, trinkets, things people wore or had on their persons. She didn't need the bloodstains to be on them to know just where he got this all from.

Her gaze flickered to him and the box as she processed the gesture. Was he being cruel to amuse himself or was this genuine? The sight didn't alarm her. It was more that she was trying to understand the context. Rejecting this could have an opposite effect, but accepting could send the wrong message. It was a tricky situation.

She reached into the box, willing to interact with the contents. It wasn't much different from her job, investigating what was before her - usually covered in blood. Various trinkets. How many people...?

"Oh... this is a surprise." She concurred as she examined each thing piece by piece - giving his offer real attention. "What do you usually do with this stuff?" The horrifying nature of where it all came from wasn't lost on her but she focused on him, on using this moment as an opportunity to learn more.

He chuckled at the sight of her as he would pick her up gently as he spins her around. "Ah, yes. I had a quite... fulfilling evening." The words sent a shiver down her spine. She knew what that meant, and she didn't need to ask. He had feasted. "But enough about me, how was your first night here now that I have made you a believer?" His eyes searched her face, looking for any signs of fear or discomfort.

He would move with her, noticing he was carrying her like a child as he would then sigh and set her down, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. "I'm sure you had a good time in the best room in the temple." He turned and began to walk away, leaving her to follow him. He was leading her back to his killing room again.

As they entered the chamber, the smell of blood was faint but present. The bodies were gone, cleaned up by his devoted followers. It was disturbing, the way they treated his feeding as a sacred ritual. The room looked untouched, except for the twelve empty spaces where the unfortunate souls had been.

He guided her to sit down, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I have a surprise for you, my dear." He said, his tone light and cheerful, as if he hadn't just consumed a dozen lives.

"I've had quite the successful evening," He said, his voice filled with pride as he led her through the bustling halls of his temple. "We've had a bountiful harvest of believers. It's always so... invigorating."

As he would look around at his side, moving pillows out of the way as he found the box, of rings, watches, necklaces, from those he had eaten and he placed it before her, friends gave gifts to others, even if there was stained blood on most of the gold and silver there, he wanted his newest friend to take something for herself.

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Nestor nearly let out a soft huff at his whisper regarding her being grumpy. She wasn't grumpy, per-say. She was just very cautious and aware of things - not one to be so easily fooled. Wasn't that what landed them in this very situation? Because she could see through his mask to what laid beneath.

But she could see the rare glimpse of sincerity as his eyes searched her own. She challenged him and he liked it. It wasn't just a matter of amusement, or finding entertainment value. The more she challenged him, the more she was able to explore his range of emotions that still existed in that void of eternal emptiness he felt. ...It was a thing she understood, for he managed to do the same to her.

Nestor rubbed her eyes as he sought to guide her away from the window. Her fingers tugged the string for the curtains to close but the bright glow of the billboard still illuminated the space just enough. She didn't object as he guided her, too tired to really care. His collapse onto the couch was annoying, as he took up so much of it with his stupidly big frame. But she was small enough to find a nook at his side, thanks to that persistent hand against her lower back.

Her legs folded and tucked inwardly before she found that to be particularly inconvenient. Instead, she swung them to drape over one of his, scarred and marked skin briefly tickled by the fabric of his pants before she settled.

"Friends see each other's perspective. I'll see yours if you'll see mine. We don't have to agree on everything, obviously, we just have to be fair." And to be fair, she was being just that. Wasn't she? She sought to understand him, she made an effort to challenge him or see if she could bring forth a flicker of emotion. She knew this cult of his was his entire life, beyond his service to his patron. But... did it have to be? He spent so long doing the same thing over and over again. Even if he genuinely enjoyed it, it wasn't living. It was surviving. It was like her like, day in and day out she worked away. She loved her job but it was a harrowing path full of danger. Just look at where she ended up.

But then, he also broke up her routine. He challenged her, engaged with her in a way no one else has. He saw her because she was like him in many ways. Doma had changed her just as she had changed him, it would seem.

Her head leaned back against his outstretched arm, eyes closing. If she knew he wanted to have insightful conversations and be alleviated of his boredom, she would have prepared coffee. Thankfully, her training at the academy made her proficient in keeping herself awake and tuned in. She listened for a moment, processing, before her eyes opened and she looked at him. Did she hear that right? Even his own master couldn't kill him now? Was that always his intention or was it just a bonus?

Was he loyal to the demon that turned him still?

Nestor was used to his monologues about helping humanity. It all translated into 'human, get in my stomach' - she knew it was more than that but still. He manipulated the truth so easily, it was just second-nature, which was why she was often so ready to pick apart his intent. Maybe he didn't even know how he sounded or came across. Or maybe it was like Adrian once said, beings can be many things at once. Whose to say he didn't sincerely value her while also wanting all that he did?

It was... confusing, sometimes.

As he pulled out his own eyeball Nestor blinked, watching as he showed it. "Ew, gross." She let out but she didn't sound mad and she wasn't actually grossed out. Something gruesome as this didn't unsettle the agent. Instead, she peered closer as he rolled it and showed her something on his eye had been scored out. It took her a long moment to put the pieces together. Did he... no longer serve his master.

"Put that back." She chuckled, thinking it over. "So you're... free? Everything you're doing now is by your own choice, for yourself?" Nestor inquired, dropped her head onto his arm again as she peered over his way. For yourself. Or for them-- as he seemed to insist a lot of what he did was for them. Maybe she really did change him, maybe he was willingly changing himself. And maybe it could lead to something better.

"How... do you feel about that? When did you decide to do that?" Nestor had so many questions but checking in with him was more important.

"Why do you have to be so grumpy all the time." He whispered, his grip on her shoulder tightening for a brief moment. "You are the one who makes me feel... alive. You challenge me, you make me feel something beyond this eternal emptiness." His eyes searched hers, a rare glimpse of sincerity peeking through the cracks of his usual facade.

He stepped back, his hand sliding from her shoulder to the small of her back, guiding her to the couch. He sat down, his legs stretched out and his arms spread wide along the back, claiming the space around him as his own. "Look at me, I have changed, because of you." He said, his voice a gentle command. "I want you to see this world through my eyes. To understand the beauty in the chaos."

He was her friend .. right, along with the fact that now, with her help he was a demon with the power to bend Japan to his will, the creature who could summon hell itself to swallow her whole, and all he wanted was for her to be his friend. It was a strange and twisted world they lived in.

The city lights danced in the reflection of his eyes as she gazed into them, searching for a semblance of humanity. His smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with something akin to excitement. "You see, Nestor, with every soul that joins us, our power grows. And as we expand, so too does our influence. I have become so strong, I have nothing left to fear, I cannot be controlled anymore, commanded, or killed by my master." He gestured to the billboard, his hand sweeping over the city. "I own Japan now, what my master did for a thousand years, I did in a handful of years. This is just the beginning. I want to show you the world I can create, a world where humans no longer suffer."

His hand remained on the small of her back, his touch a constant reminder of his power and the bond they shared. It was a strange feeling, one that was both comforting and suffocating. The billboard's light flickered, casting shadows across his face, making it seem as if his features danced with the whims of his emotions. The city below looked like a playground from their vantage point, a sprawling expanse of potential for him to manipulate. The idea that he was becoming too powerful was not lost on her, he knew this. The Eternal Paradise Cult grew more influential by the day, and she had seen firsthand the devastation that came with such power.

As he raised his hand to his eye, pushing his finger and thumb into the socket as he pulled and removed his eye to show her, rolling it over, to the other side, to see that the number that had been there, that he hides, had been scored out, he was free, so free and perfect in every single way, and he just wanted someone to share it with.

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Her experience with churches were rarely pleasant but she always entered one neutrally - willing to have a new experience. Not for the sake of her beliefs but simply out of politeness to those inhabiting the sanctuary. On an individual level, she enjoyed the scents she could detect. Each one was able to make her think of someone in her close knit group-- none of whom she'd likely find in a place like this. Not with their joint history. She couldn't imagine calling out to something else, not when so many of her screams throughout the years were for someone tangible. Or for herself to do better. Endure. Survive. Adapt.

There was no faulting the people here, she couldn't think less of them even if she wanted to. At the end of the day, they were also the people she existed to protect. And given the amount of candles the denizens of this church had lit for the fallen, she knew she had to act quickly, thoroughly.

Amber eyes patiently took in her surroundings. The old carved wood, the colorful stained glass and the way the light cast rainbows across the stone floor. This was an impressive church, well made and well cared for. Actively it was attended to, which likely meant the people here were sincere in their efforts. A little dusty, but any loved place couldn't escape such.

The change in sound was just enough to draw her attention. Footsteps. Bright eyes cast towards their approach, watching the nun's movements a moment before her gaze flickered towards the man accompanying her. Likely the one Nestor asked for, based on his attire.

The agent kept her demeanor polite as he excused the nun and ventured closer. She watched his body language, unable to escape consuming every detail both given and not. The posture he carried, his steepled hands, the expression he wore. Her chin lifted gently, just enough to make looking up at him all the easier.

"Agent Avani, but Nestor is fine." It wasn't fine. It was a little too personal but she could manage so long as it was work-related. She gave no hint otherwise, seemingly content with her own words.

Her hands neatly folded themselves in front of her as she tipped her head with a fleeting smile, "Thank you for meeting with me, Father Lecter. I've been sent in to investigate the series of murders that have been plaguing this district. I was hoping I could borrow you to answer some questions to aid in my investigation?" Nestor inquired, a curious gleam to her eyes as she probed to see if he was free at this time. Would he reject questions, as others have? Would he be defensive, secretive-- was there something worth hiding here?

There was a reason she came here first to interview. She just didn't know whether this particular parish was guilty of anything or just an unfortunate piece of the puzzle.

Churches have a scent that surrounds them. It was a combination of incense, aged wood, and candle wax. It holds the reverence of people and the quiet words that form in their heads, spoken silently to their God in hopes of it being answered. Hannibal enjoys this low murmuring along the pews, the desperation in some as they raise their eyes to the imposing figure of Christ on the Cross. How meek and fragile humanity seems at these moments of worship. It reminds him of mortality, how everyone has a timestamp on their foreheads. Hidden.

Hannibal's parish was a visual symphony. The kaleidoscope of colors from stained glass windows cast vibrant patterns across the stone floor, while statues stood sentinel at each brick pillar. The church itself, constructed from weathered stone, bore the gentle wear of time and the caress of countless devoted hands. Seasonal flowers adorned the columns, their vivid hues an attempt to mask the ever-present scent of dust that lingered in the building’s corners, a stubborn dust that resisted even the most diligent sweeping. Candles housed in red glass flickered gently, each flame symbolizing a saint, a soul, a silent acknowledgment amid the congregation of spirits.

A small sign nearby read, "You can add one for $5."

As Hannibal entered, he was accompanied by a nun whose animated gestures punctuated her earnest conversation. The black cassock he wore gave him an imposing stature, towering over the diminutive older woman as her gaze briefly darted to Nestor. "Thank you, Mary Beth," Hannibal said, acknowledging her with a nod as she turned to attend to her other duties. With his hands slightly steepled, Hannibal moved slowly towards the unfamiliar presence in his sacred space.

"Welcome, Agent…. Nestor was it?" A name he was given in passing by use of low whispers. Everyone had been on edge lately. A candle was added to the vigil, another death. "I am Father Lecter and this is my parish," he continued, gesturing to the small gathering of people milling about after the service. "How can I serve you?"

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As he ruffled her hair, she let out a soft indignant sound. Even if she had been sleeping less than an hour ago, she habitually straightened herself out. That was no different now, as she lifted a hand to flick back into place her hair - the mess he made became slightly less. Tousled still from bed but better than how he left it. For once, he didn't abuse his strength which was the sole reason she tolerated the gesture. Serve their lord. But was that lord the one he served, or himself? Doma's expansion of his cult gave her mixed signals. He delighted in being in control, in having all the attention and the spotlight. It was as if everyone served him instead of his ideals (the demon he bowed to). She had to wonder if he was truly satisfied being a follower to another when he was so used to being a leader to humans. A demon with his position of power was no doubt spoiled rotten by all the rewards he was able to reap.

Doma had Japan in the palm of his hand, he said. No doubt her people had spotted her through satellites or camera feeds. They must know she was out in the streets now. Thankfully, they seemed wise enough to continue listening to her on not interfering. Nestor knew that Doma had let her out of temple and into the expanse of Japan with him, but now that Japan was falling under his control... it was just a bigger cage. She almost felt like a princess in a tower. The sort of fables her parents used to read to her. It bothered her, given she was so used to her own autonomy. Now, she attached at the hip to Doma.

The weight of his hand on her shoulder, the light prickling of his claws through her oversized sleeping shirt, it wasn't lost on her. He always sought to crowd her space, to hold onto her in some way as a reminder that this friendship never truly lost its predator and prey dynamic.

"Because I want you to understand the power we hold together. To see the influence we can wield."

Her gaze flickered to his reflection in the window, watching him watch her. What did that mean? Her brows knitted together as he painted her a picture of what he imagined. It was always about him and his hunger, even if he covered it up with helping people. His explanation came with its own mockery and backhanded compliments, which only made her tense and glare at his reflection. The light of the billboard bathing them, the persistent stare of Doma's rainbow gaze boring into her from all directions.

This apartment wasn't her home. It was a spare place she had, one of many, for conducting her work around the world. It was barren of anything personal. He was no doubt mocking her for he knew she was anything but happy. Despite her polite demeanor, there was a woman who struggled to understand happiness. Who thought it was out of reach for herself.

Her fingers curled against the windowsill as she felt the weight of him lean into her, bearing it against her back. She flinched subtly at his voice at her ear, at the warmth of his breath against her skin. He wasn't wrong that this world needed balance and a decently firm hand, but how the two went about it differed greatly.

A soft wince left her, feeling his claws digging in just enough. "What could you want a human perspective for? You've never needed it before." Nestor puzzled through his words with a soft huff. He claimed he wanted to sincerely try bonding with someone, experiencing emotions he has been devoid of for however long-- but he took every opportunity to jab at her. She couldn't even really be mad he was so obsessively focused on his cult when she was obsessively focused on her job.

"You're either messing with me, again... Or you're using me as a shield because you know you'll start experiencing resistance sooner or later." Nestor went with logic, because he was incredibly clever. What better shield to have than the face of the BVD? An agent that could make other factions that may oppose Doma hesitate.

Her head tilted back to rest against his shoulder as she forced herself to relax. To take a deep breath as she looked into the billboard's eyes. "Or maybe it's just all of the above and I was naive to believe you when you said you wanted something personal." Her bright eyes tilted away from the billboard's gaze to meet Doma's in the reflection of the window.

He would take a moment to consider her question, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew she was a smart cookie, so playing coy wouldn't get him far. With a gentle hand, he ruffled her hair, the motion surprisingly tender for someone with claws that could shred steel. "Ah, Nestor. You know me too well." His smile was wide, his fangs glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the window. "But you're right, I've got Japan in the palm of my hand. The Eternal Paradise Cult is everywhere, a network of believers that stretches from here to the far corners of this land. And all of them, eager to serve their lord."

He stepped closer, his hand dropping to rest on her shoulder, his claws lightly digging into her skin. It was a gesture of ownership, of protection. "But why you ask? Why bring you here to see this?" His eyes searched hers, his smile taking on a more serious tone. "Because I want you to understand the power we hold together. To see the influence we can wield."

The billboard's glow cast a blue light over them, making him seem almost ethereal. "This is just the beginning." He said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Imagine, Nestor, a world where the strong protect the weak, where fear and pain are a distant memory." His eyes grew distant, lost in the grand vision he had painted. "Where everyone knows the sweet embrace of eternal paradise. I can help some many more people now, outside of my temple, I have been so silly, having standards, you have shown me that having no standards or taste, is the best way to live, I mean look at your apartment, it is a mess, along with your life, but you are always so happy, so I need to apply this as well."

He leaned into her, his breath hot against her ear as he continued to speak. "This is something I have been doing long before I came across you, but I have just pushed a little bit harder, as this work, well it's a world that requires a firm hand, a guiding force to keep the balance. And who better than us, hmm?" His grip on her shoulder tightened, the claws pressing into her skin just enough to make her wince, but not enough to break it. "You, with your human perspective and me, with the power to grant them salvation or damnation. So many people here want to get to haven, I can be there gateway."

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She was safe... but for how long? Nestor wasn't sure when morning came due to the room staying dimly lit - no windows, no sunlight. But her body always woke her up early, her internal clock every ticking. Right on time, following a routine even when she was trapped and unable to follow it entirely.

When her eyes opened, she was glad to not see any statues of Doma nor Doma himself looming near her. It allowed her time to decompress, to think. She laid on one side for a time, her gaze tracing the furniture. Ornate. Older. Antique, even. Like many parts of his domain, he had things from the time period he must had originally come from. It was pretty, tasteful. She hated that he even had good taste in such things-- or maybe she just hated that she noticed it.

Rolling over, she stared at the empty space in the bed a moment. Back home, her bed was big. Too big for her. The house itself was meant for a family but it was given to her for a job well done. What was she meant to do with all those empty rooms? Filling them with plants seemed best. She looked over the furniture on the opposite side of the room before rolling onto her back and staring up. Even the ceiling was ornate. It made her feel small.

Doma was keeping her in his private quarters for her safety. No doubt to also keep a close eye on her. It was strange. Could she call them roommates? She never had one before. Not in any traditional sense, at least.

Sitting up, she finally slipped out of bed and tidied it up. Figuring out where everything was, was a bit confusing but she located the facilities to ready herself for the day.

This wardrobe was his. Not hers. Yet her stuff now lived within it. This bedroom was not hers but she was meant to pretend it was. As she walked the corridors, trying to familiarize herself with his private accommodations, she found herself feeling both more grounded and out of place.

No windows. No sunlight. Nothing to threaten Doma. His own sanctuary, her own gilded cage. Her musing faded as she heard footsteps and noticed him. He wasn't wearing the same clothes as last night... awareness flickered into her eyes as she took in what that meant. He did eat again. How many this time? Twelve again? More? Whatever his whim demanded?

"...Good morning, Doma." Nestor greeted, polite as ever. "You seem to be in a good mood." She could guess why, even if she didn't want to.

The laughter echoed in her mind as she lay there, his smile so wide and genuine she couldn’t believe it was the same creature who had killed and devoured so many innocents.

Who was this Doma?

The one who killed with no remorse or the one who offered her his bed and treated her with a gentle touch? It was so confusing and she felt like she was losing her grip on reality.

The silence grew thick as she would hear the distant sound of his followers going about their business. It had to be a strange comfort, knowing she wasn’t entirely alone in this place.

She was safe, for now.

But for how long?

For him, well he was in another part of the temple, looking after his followers. He had always been a hands-on leader, ensuring each one was cared for and indoctrinated properly. The Eternal Paradise Cult was his masterpiece, a testament to his ability to manipulate and control. As he moved among them, his eyes searched for any signs of doubt or dissent, ready to quash it before it could spread.

The candles cast flickering shadows across the walls, the only source of light in the dimly lit corridor. He could hear the murmurs of his followers in the distance, a constant reminder of his power and influence. He had never felt more alive than when he was among his devoted, his very existence a stark contrast to the stagnation of human life.

His steps were silent as he moved through the hallowed halls of his temple. His followers knelt before him, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and reverence. He walked with purpose, his eyes scanning over each of them, ensuring their devotion remained unwavering. A gentle pat on the head here, a comforting word there, reinforcing the bonds of loyalty that bound them to him.

In the dimly lit corridor, candlelight danced on the walls, casting elongated shadows that seemed to mimic his form as he passed by. The air was thick with incense, the sweet smell of obedience and the bitter scent of fear. He could almost taste the power that emanated from each individual, the lifeblood that fueled his existence and his dream of eternal paradise.

As her little stray thoughts had been correct, he was going to select a handful of them tonight and eat them, he had no choice, the temple and buildings around it, were bursting already, he had to make room for new arrivals come the morning.

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if you're writing and find yourself thinking 'this is too weird/gross/offputting/esoteric/ambitious/catered to my specific interests + sure to push away a broader audience' that is the devil speaking and it is a lie. you are already firmly on the right path and you need to double down

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not in this lifetime

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Franz Kafka, from a letter featured in Letters To Friends, Family and Editors

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11 June 1939 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

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You’re so gross! (extremely turned on)

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i be like “it is what it is” and almost vomit from anxiety

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