#( i was too excited and replied as quickly as i could acjshbdfsf )

[xamassed]

⟬ @ofhope ⟭

It was dark, here. Through uncovering the depths of any whereabouts, Belphegor is likely to be found, huddled in a blanket -- there is also the fact Beelzebub yearned for a quiet place to down his third lunch of the day, free of... whatever Satan and Lucifer were doing.

(He'd offered a hand, but Lucifer asserted his ability to control a situation. Beel shrugged, and headed off.)

This place was new, and cramped for someone of his stature. To think Belphie would crouch down so lowly just to find a place to sleep seemed out of the question, his laziness catching up and overpowering his sleepy eyes, but... there, amidst the dark, was a rattle. Beel knew it, as well as his other brothers', that night. It felt... wrong, seeing Satan constricted like that. Likewise, that rattle stopped the demon in his tracks, only the loud crunch of some snack sounding off in this dark, still space.

"Satan. I thought you were with Lucifer?"

Beel for Anita!

There were only so many smells that one could get used to when held in the same place for days.

Iron, mold, dank and decay. Only every now and again would she be blessed with the stomach-wrenching aroma of food and the perfume of the ones that brought it to her. Those never lasted long under the heaviness of sweat and blood oozing from wrists and ankles that were rubbed raw.

She wanted to catch the scent of something new, something permanent. She was tired of being lashed to the wall like a feral beast. ( But she was, wasn't she? )

Behave, they said. Behave, and we'll let you out.

So she curled up in the corner of her enclosed space, chains dragging along behind her as she returned to the plate that had been left for her. All that remained was a strip of raw meat that tasted vaguely of venison, the dark meat wrapped in thin, silvery ribbons of fat. She had finished most of it before, animal gluttony telling her to swallow all of it down now rather than later. Time spend in captivity forced her to adopt opposing instincts.

Her monstrous head dipped down, tongue lolling out to lap up what was left.

Her nose wriggled, and she caught a new sent.

It was much thicker scent than she was used to. Sweat that was different than hers, as well as a plethora of spices and meats and goodness know what else. But with that smell came a presence. She heard shuffling feet and grunting, caught words of a language she had only just begun to grasp.

Pressed against the bars keeping her caged, the onikuma let out a low, displeased growl that rolled from somewhere deep inside her chest.

"Not. . . Satan." She had already picked a name for herself, so she knew that much at the least.

The thick and rumbling voice ebbed away and was replaced with a lighter, less grating tone as a calm settled over her and her form shifted. "You don't smell like the ones that feed me."