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scarletwritesshit · 13 days ago

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⚰️ Luocha x Sunday ⚰️ Tangled in a Devil's Deal

An ashen-blue dove was entangled in thorned vines, pinned firmly against the wall. His hands and legs were tightly bound, eliminating any chance of a successful struggle. The vines wrapped around the entirety of his body, piercing every inch of his flesh with the slightest twitch of a nerve. He could not allow himself to move, not to struggle, not to readjust, lest he wanted his flesh to be sliced further.

His wings were rendered as worthless as the rest of his limbs, regardless of his movement ability. They had long since been clipped, and the feathers of his that were spared were ruffled beyond useless.

The dove was left to bleed out and die nailed to the wall by the thorns of his sin. His brief time of flight had concluded, and his heart was torn open dripping blood onto the stone floor. Robes that were once white with purity were now stained red as an eternal reminder of his fall.

His head slumped, sides of his face being scraped and cut open as it dangled. The bleeding heart dove could no longer muster the strength to keep his head up.

After his fall from grace, the only path left for him to traverse was the slow and bloody journey towards death.

In a miraculous twist of events, the attention of a wandering merchant was piqued when his white boots were stained with the splashes from the blood puddles. Luocha, this man claimed to be called, possessed the most interesting traits of long blond hair and a dastardly smug demeanor, something perhaps too familiar to an angel such as him. The healer’s garbs were nothing more than a deception, for the devil walked amongst him clad in holy white. And on a Sunday, nonetheless.

Luocha spun his golden cross necklace around his fingers and looked up at the Halovian nailed onto death’s door.

"Little birdie, you’ve found yourself in an awfully compromising position," Luocha said.

"What? Come to laugh at an angel’s fall from grace?" Sunday spat, blood rolling from the corner of his mouth.

"Laugh? I find no humor in your situation. Rather, I see this as an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what? Defiling what’s left of me with your devilish hands?"

Luocha caught the cross charm in the palm of his hand. "Quite the opposite, actually. I’m here to help you take flight once again and heal the wounds that taint your body"

"...Heal?"

"Indeed. For nothing more than a small price, of course."

"You would ask a man with a value of zero to repay you?" Sunday asked, baffled.

"Don’t let such lies escape your lips," Luocha said, reaching out the tip of his rapier to prod up Sunday’s chin. "I’m not here for what you have, but rather, what you are."

Sunday drearily looked at Luocha with what little strength he could muster.

"You’re the closest anyone has come to true Aeonhood," Luocha said, gently stroking the lid of his coffin with his free hand, "and I have a task suited to only someone of such caliber."

"You see an Aeon in this dead dove?"

"I see a dove that has yet to take flight… one that still hasn’t realized his potential."

Luocha swung his rapier aside, scraping Sunday’s throat as he allowed his head to droop once more.

"All I ask is for you to strike a deal with me to amend your wounds.”

"So I was right. You want to defile me and what my existence once stood for."

"Don’t be hasty, darling. I haven’t even had a moment to explain myself. My intentions are the exact opposite of what you presume, as I only desire to allow you to rise once again."

Sunday’s head perked up a little and he looked at Luocha with wide eyes.

"Alas, to make my sacrifice worthwhile, I need you to do my bidding for a short time," Luocha said, running his fingers along the coffin lid. "I have a… friend here, and I need an Aeon’s power to bring her back."

Sunday scoffed and fell completely silent.

"What happened to wanting to make everyone happy? Allowing yourself to die here when I am offering up my hand is the most selfish course of action you could possibly take.”

"That dream is dead, you devil," Sunday snapped with the last of his energy.

`"Little dove, why do you close your eyes to the sensible truth in front of you? Think of those who still depend on you. Think of Robin."

Right. Her. If Sunday had any reason to desperately free himself of those thorns, it would be for his beloved sister Robin. If he allowed himself to fall here, he had no other way to guarantee that this bastard wouldn’t say something to Robin that she was better off not hearing.

At the mention of her name, his wings began to flutter, and Luocha took great delight in seeing this.

"Ah. I knew that had to be enticing to you," Luocha said.

He put his palm on the coffin and it began to emit a strange green light. The vines entangled around Sunday mimicked this effect, and their hold on him gradually loosened. The thorns withdrew from his flesh, leaving now-dried bloody lacerations open across his body. With his body weak from the hefty blood loss, Sunday was rendered unable to brace himself for a fall, and so he accepted his fate of crashing into the ground once the last of the vines holding him up slithered back.

His fall was unexpectedly gentle, as Luocha held out his arm and caught the pale angel. Luocha’s grace was short lived, as he tossed Sunday down onto the ground with his back slumped against the wall.

"But before I can trust your loyalty to the deal, come forth and bow before me."

Sunday could not muster the strength to push himself forward onto his hands.

"I said bow."

Luocha grabbed his rapier once more and nudged Sunday down by the back of his head. Unable to reach out his hands to steady himself, Sunday bowed down supporting his body with his arms while Luocha kept him firmly in place with his rapier pointed at his throat.

"A soul for a soul is a fair exchange, wouldn’t you agree, little dove?" Luocha said, prodding his throat.

"Ngh…I have just...one request before I can agree to being in your service," Sunday coughed.

"I gave you life, what more could you possibly ask for?"

"...I beg of you, do not allow my sister to see how far I have fallen."

"Perhaps...if I am feeling a bit generous, I’ll spare her the pathetic sight of her brother kneeling to me in submission."

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