#SugarSyrupSummoning

[slimyscrivener]

Sugar Syrup Summoning Pt1

A young woman toils day after day in dead end work and comes home to an empty apartment. Nearly every night she performs a ritual to summon a demon with the hope of fixing her life. Then one night, she gets it right.

Beginning ~~~~~ Next

It appeared in the center of the circle, a silhouette of inky void surrounded by a corona of dust. The swirling cloud clung to my skin, tasting sweet on my lips as the silhouette expanded and filled the room with darkness. Dust motes became stars that filled my vision. Blinding darkness resolved itself eventually into the usual shape of my living room, though now it had another occupant.

Something equestrian stood on what used to be a bull’s eye rug. Tall, with long legs and cloven hooves. It’s neck drooped in an almost nervous pose, their graceful head blossoming with eyes.The beast turned a soft muzzled face toward me and blinked.

“Have…” It’s, their, voice sounding as though it were playing through the bell of a clarinet.

“Have I been summoned..?” Three of their wide eyes on me, the center one was somewhat off putting, I tried not to stare, instead forcing my gaze to roam.

“Yes..?” I said, finding myself staring at a tiny copper pot. Attached to the pot was a lacquered black handle, attached to which was the three fingered hand of the demon I’d summoned.

“Oh..! OH!” They looked as though they’d have hopped in place had they not remembered the little pot they held. Instead, it was an awkward half stumble, small hooves pattering my rug. I noted that it crunched under their feet, I’d have to check on that later.

They recovered and bubbled with chatter. “I’m sorry, yes! Thank you, I mean, do I have to thank you? I’ve never been summoned before you see.”

Nodding, a numb feeling of shock at what I’d done settled into my head. What came next? Were they going to demand some terrible payment? How does one go about making demands of a demon? Should I be binding it? And for that matter how does one even bind a demon?!

I found myself staring at the demon’s wardrobe, as though one more incongruity was too much, but I was noticing their one visible piece of clothing: a fringed poncho. A heather purple poncho with little embroidered stars on. This fact was standing out to me above all others, perhaps it was how mundane it seemed compared to the manner in which this day had suddenly gone off its rails.

“My mother used to get summoned all the time,” they were saying. “She told me about it, but I never thought I would because… ah… well, I mean that’s not important I suppose?”

I watched them fuss with their shawl, threads of silver in its embroidery catching the dull overhead light.

“I really hope I’m presentable enough, I wasn’t really expecting this, gosh. So…”

Their tone changed somewhat, I had the impression that they were facing me again.

They said, “for what desire have you summoned me..?”

I was staring at their face now, a mane white like sea foam had fallen over one half of their muzzle. It reminded me of a wave cresting over sand painted by sunset. They kept nervously tucking it back behind equine shaped ears. On her forehead were horns of translucent crystal, they glittered in a faceted sort of way with the light. I felt my stomach twist when I noted I could see through them to something I hesitated to describe as the inside of her skull.

I shifted my gaze elsewhere and focused on her busily patterned shawl. Looking them in the face was nearly driving me to nausea.

They definitely seemed as though they were getting nervous now.

“It’s alright…” They said, “I mean, whatever it is you need, I can handle.”

Then, a little more frantically, they added, “If you summoned me you’ve already paid my price upfront right? I don’t mind doing whatever it is you need doing, not a problem at all. It’s a pleasure, really!”

Distantly I knew something in that statement should have worried me, but only now did I realize how childish my purpose had been all this time. I’d spent months in preparation only to fail in performing the spell so many times. I had honestly started to assume that the website that described it was entirely fake and that I was just deluding myself. Perhaps all of the stories of successful summonings I’d read on the net were all just stories, just fakes designed to give the writers an air of importance and a cloud of sycophants to fawn over their fantastic tales.

I had grown accustomed to the consistency with which I had failed, it had become my near daily ritual. Come home, undress, microwave dinner, turn my apartment into a sticky disaster of reagents and ritual fluids, fail, clean up, go to bed…

My mouth felt dry and I realized I’d been holding my jaw tight, my eyes losing focus. I was doing it again, that thing I always do when I’m trying not to-

I could feel tears marking hot runnels down on my cheeks.

The demon let out a worried, “oh…!”

I heard myself mutter, “I’m so…”

The muscles of my face pinched against the corners of my eyes as I tried again.

“I just… I just don’t want to be alone-”

“anymore.“

I couldn’t see the demon’s face but in the silence of the apartment I could hear their mouth open. That oozy quality of their body gave it a vague popping sound as they did.

Then it shut.

The demon swallowed audibly, a hoof pawing the now crunchy rug.

“Alright.” They said.

I forced my gaze up to their face, despite the genuine smile on that muzzle I could see worry in the tight corners of their many… many eyes. They forced their smile up a tick when my eyes met theirs, as though trying to encourage me. It made my stomach twist again, as much shame as revulsion knotting up. Their smile wasn’t helping, so many eyes.

“Okay!” The demon placed a hand-hoof on their hip. “If that’s what you want, I’m happy to oblige… Um…”

They only now seemed to remember the little pot they held, they held it out toward me in a questioning manner.

“Do you like coffee?”

[slimyscrivener]

Sugar Syrup Summoning Pt2

Successful demon summoning leads to an awkward conversation in the kitchen. A young lady is anxious, a demon frets. There is also coffee.

Beginning ~~~~~ Next

We faced each other over a janky pile of plastic and aluminum I had the audacity to call my kitchen table. It had a stained green top, ostensibly fuzzy. Presumably it was meant to be a card table but when you start pulling furniture out of the dumpster the pretense of purpose is the first to go. Regardless it was completely functional, though to call it green was being quite generous.

Together we sat, on mismatched chairs, my demon and I.

I was having a hard time looking at them, though their appearance was only part of the reason. My embarrassment at having broken down in front of them was still hot on my cheeks. I’d only just recovered, still red eyed and blotchy, and come to the kitchen when she’d called me in. She hadn’t commented on the ten or so minutes of sobbing on the couch, I doubted she would. When we both came to sit down there was a lot of awkward looks that had finally resolved into a vague mutual stare. Well, I suppose I’m staring at her shoulder and she’s occupied with her arcane coffee methodology.

The demon placed a small ceramic mug in front of me and another in front of themself. Then, from their little pot, they poured us each an equal measure of a thick, dark liquid. It smelled stronger than any coffee I had ever had before, without having the undertone of being severely burned. I wasn’t certain how eldritch the draught would be, but it smelled pleasantly of cardamon.

I watched the demon shift in their seat to get comfortable, pushing a well groomed looking tail between the slats of the chair’s back. It didn’t look especially comfortable with the way their legs and ankles bent not to mention having their tail cramped up behind them but they kept a cheerful smile up.

Wretchedly I wondered if they weren’t forcing that happy disposition for my sake. How pathetic does a person have to be for a demon to be worried about them? My next thought was how upset they would be if I asked them to stop smiling, or at least not do it with so many vicious looking teeth.

“I make it very sweet”, they said, “so I hope you don’t mind. When I make it for company I usually use a lot less sugar.” They sipped at their coffee, one three fingered hand fussing with their shawl.

“It uh-” I hesitated, chewing my lower lip.

“It won’t like, seal an ancient and deadly compact or something right? It’s not like, fairy rules, is it?”

“What? Fairies aren’t real. What a silly thing to say.”

I gave a spot over the demon’s shoulder and slightly to the left an incredulous look.

“That didn’t actually answer my question I think.”

She made a bubbling, musical sound that I interpreted as a laugh.

“Oh, no. No, nothing like that. You’ve already made your deal with me. It’s just coffee. It won’t make you beholden to fae contract or turn you inside out or anything like that.”

I collected the tiny mug and felt it warm my hands. It was cold out, being deep into fall now, but my apartment was warm enough at least to take the chill out of the air. My eyes lingered on the dark liquid.

Just coffee, nothing magical or anything. As she had explained: just strong coffee. Casually lifting the mug to my lips I began to inquire.

“So, uh, about that contract-”

I sipped the brew.

An involuntary spasm ran through the muscles of my face and I felt my jaw tighten. I squeaked out through gritted teeth.

“Sssweet! It’s really S-sweet..!”

Eyes blinking, some furrowing, confusion looking like pandemonium on the demon’s face. It resolved into concern and they made a sharp ‘tsk’ sound, drumming their digits on the fuzzy tabletop.

“I’m sorry, here- here... “ They made as though to take it from me, attempting to lay a hoof on the mug.

I reflexively pulled away from the creature and lifted the mug up in both hands.

“N-no no, it’s okay. I was just really surprised… It’s more like, coffee syrup, i-it’s so thick.”

Sipping again to show them that it was alright, I only shuddered, having prepared myself for the shock.

They watched me drink, squinting a swath of eyes as though testing my resolve, then eventually leaning back in their chair. I watched a very uncomfortable moment where the demon squirmed in their chair and finally they tucked their legs up and perched, hooves flat on the plastic seat.

“So... “ Here they seemed to struggle, chewing the inside of their lip as they thought of what to say before continuing.

“So… I am called Lilwanyu, She, from the Spoke of Darkness.” When they said ‘Spoke of Darkness’ the lights dimmed in the kitchen for a moment, then flickered back on again.

Another encouraging smile from the demon, shudder, another sip of coffee.

I frowned, mulling over ‘she’ as an appellation until I caught on. Mentally I amended my description of her.

“The Spoke of Darkness?” I asked, bringing coffee to my lips but balking at the saccharine miasma that wafted off of it. Noting, as I did, that the lights did not dim when I spoke it aloud.

“It’s where you summoned me from..? I would tell you the specific city but I expect it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

“Oh, right right.” I said, abruptly worried that there was some detail here that I was missing, that I might have missed some bit of data in my research. Demons had cities? I suppose that made sense really, I had sort of assumed they just hung around great pools of boiling sulfur or something. All of the net searches I had performed prior never mentioned such a place, but then they also didn’t adequately describe the sort of creature that might come from the other side. Nor, how sincerely pleasant they were to talk to, if perhaps, not to look at.

I wasn’t staring her in the face, I was trying to avoid that, so instead I watched her arms. The fur reminded me of satellite pictures of nebula, the particularly cool coloured ones.  At least, I assumed she had fur, the equine shape of her might be affecting how I interpreted the fuzzy exterior. I watched her fidgeting with the tiny mug, tapping it between two hoof like digits. Pointed at the tips, I had a hard time understanding how they could be so articulate. Then I saw her lift an arm and the flesh of her stuck, very minutely, to the fuzzy tabletop. It stringed out and then slowly oozed back up into her forearm.

She was speaking I realized and I had missed the entirety of it. My heart had started to race again, I kept trying to cling to mundane details as a means of centering myself in this moment but they kept failing me! What was she made of..? Some sort of animate goop?

Clearing her throat, the demon repeated herself.

“What do you need me to do to help you feel less alone?”

I balked at the question, “Ah, well… I had sort of hoped that you’d be able to deal with that. Like, I dunno. Just magic me up into someone less shitty or something.”

Feeling wretched, I sipped the coffee if only to stop myself from having to talk.

Ugh.

She finished her own measure of the dark draught and placed the mug down with a soft thup.

“Well…” She said, “I don’t really know that I can ‘magic’ you into someone else exactly. Would changing your appearance make you more desirable to other humans? I don’t know much about them, I admit. But I could do that, if you wanted.”

I sighed. “No, not exactly. I think I look… Fine? I guess?”

Perhaps I could mime drinking the coffee, or would that be exceptionally rude?

“It’s not really that..? Just maybe, make my brain less awful?” I swirled the liquid in my mug, kicking up the dregs, just to have something else to focus on.

“So I can talk to people and not freak out, or get all sweaty and gross?”

She put up a hoof to her cheek and leaned on it. Various eyes peered around the room, at the bare walls, the mismatched chairs, the chipped plates in the drain rack. I began to feel anxious about the state of my apartment, I honestly had been about as prepared for company as the demon. Then I started to feel rather anxious about my life in general, that there really wasn’t any changes I could have made to make the space any less terrible.

She said, “I could do that, I suppose. But anything like that would be temporary, and honestly only marginally more effective than just getting you drunk, I suspect. There are permanent methods but then you might no longer be you? But then you already dislike who you are it seems…” Trailing off, staring at the plates in the drain rack, her expression seemed pensive. For as much as I could read that escher painting of a face. Well, no, that description was probably a bit too cruel. She was probably very pretty by whatever metric people used to judge appearance where she comes from. Somehow, I liked the idea of considering her pretty. It seemed like a pleasantly defiant thought.

“How much experience with people do you have?” She said finally.

Now, I thought glumly, it was beginning to sound like I’d summoned a therapist instead of great and terrible demon. I glanced at her face briefly, a few of her eyes blinked independently of one another and then turned to look at me.

YUP, definitely still a demon.

“I used to have a few friends a long time ago.” I managed to say, dredging up the memory.

“But that was when I was a little, just some other kids in my class. We stopped talking somewhere in highschool and then-”

I shrugged and finished my coffee. It wasn’t any more palatable after cooling off.

“And you never met anyone else?” She said.

“Not really, I was busy. I talk to some people on the net but, that’s different.”

Lilwanyu gave me a blank look, then tilted that equine head.

“What is ‘the net’?”

“Oh it’s ah…” I tried to shape the answer in my head but I suddenly realized how utterly alien the concept would be to someone from another world. I felt myself start to say something about a series of tubes but squashed the notion down.

“You know, why don’t I just show you?”