Falling in love

At his own statement, he laughs a little, splaying his wings out beside him as he looks over himself, at the tail that curls around his leg, the light tattoos that trail down his neck, and then chuckles once more, as though the whole situation is rather humorous to him.

"Well, I certainly was special, that's for sure," he mutters, closing his palm as a series of purple flames burn and die around him.

A far off look clouds his features as he stares into the palms of his hands, latching onto something that has long since slipped his grasp. Without thinking, I reach out and close my hand on his own, holding him there, just for a second, like Alastor did to me when I was sad. But inwardly, I laugh drunkenly at myself. I guess I am doing a lot of stupid drunk stuff today, huh?

Well, I never professed I was the smartest of cookies.

But surprisingly the devil doesn't look annoyed- or even vaguely irritated. In fact, he almost looks pleased. Almost. A lonely melancholy lingers on the edges of his features, as though the touch had reminded him of something long, long ago. Something he can't quite reach.

Then the expression vanishes, and he leans forward to ruffle my hair, removing my hand as he laughs:

"Now, I bet you are wondering where the debauchery part comes in, no chérie? How I got to be here?" he asks, gesturing to the room around him, the the fiery light of the dying sun stretching in through the windows, a melancholic notion in his voice, but also a wavering pride, a resurgence of honour for himself in remembrance that he is not like the rest of his kind. That he is the first of something greater.

Edging forward on my seat some more, I nod my head vigorously, eager for more. I feel like a kid being offered candy- or some irresistible temptation. But after all this time, to finally be learning about the Devil- really truly learning about him and not just going off some fabricated nonsense written down in those kids books that clearly have a rather large bias against him, feels like some sort of revelation. Not to mention I am learning more about my own people, the angels, what it means to be a demon. In fact, I am getting more information about things than I have ever done in my entire life- spare the knowledge that Al provides me.

My mother never was very good at 'bedtime stories'.

"They say in the Upper World you are as unchaste as they come. Is that true, oh great ruler?" I laugh woozily, mostly in doubt of such accusations, which have long since proven to be falsified rumours. Sure Valerian has some questionable habits, and makes a show of rather flamboyant actions such as dropping me from several meters up just to get me to have a bath, but sex and debauchery seem completely off the scale for him. I have seen more crudeness from his demon associate Tarquin than I have from him, so it would appear to seem that any instances of his own debauchery are nothing more than mortal fabrication.

Valerian is as genuine as they come. At least, I think he is.

"Ah, yes, they do like to spin that tale in the Upper Realm," he laughs, patting my hand gently as he leans forward, lowering his voice as he says:

"You see, I had a lot of crimes under my belt, and the angels were furious at what I had done. My illegal escape to the Downside, my attempt to bring a banished soul back up to the heavens, and my transformation into a creature of the Downside… They were furious," he says, pausing to give another laugh, as he lets go of my hand, letting his fingers slide through his hair. As he dangles this information before me, I only lean forward closer- eager to hear, so close to him that I can see the flecks sparking in his violet eyes, like little stars in a constellation.

"And what did they do?" I ask, poking him in the knee, mostly out of a drunken daze, put partially for the heck of it. The good thing about being with Valerian- something I have quickly learnt over the past day, is that I can be myself. He is as much the trickster, deviant, rule defying rebel as I am, and doesn't seem to care much for my antics, but rather would gladly join them. Honestly, it is a great relief after spending years surrounded by swarms of stuck up nobles who'd scold you at the drop of a hat, or attempt to 'discipline' you on matters of royalty that I never could care to listen to. It was all a fucking bore. But Valerian… he is so much more than them.

Valerian is fun.

"Well," Valerian continues, wringing out his hands. He wets his lips. "They couldn't leave me to fester down here, growing in power and defying their every legacy- it would make them look bad. So instead, they wanted to make an example of me, make it look like everything I had done was to their plan, and not mine." He pauses once more, a far off look flashing across his features, lilac eyes all at once growing dull. Then he snaps back into reality, continuing as if nothing had ever happened. For a moment, I stare at him, trying to decipher what odd look had past across his face, but promptly coming up empty handed.

"The angels dragged me up to the heavens to put me on trial a week after I descended to the Downside. They had to send five angels just to restrain me," he scoffs, eyes trained over the coiling wisps of purple magic between his fingers, a smug grin on his face.

"They banished me to the Downside, to rule over the souls who would not be of use to their growing armies, and cursed me with immortality, so that I might waste away my years watching everyone else suffer and die, so I would pay for my crimes with an everlasting sorrow. Unfortunately," he adds, clenching his fists, extinguishing the purple flame. "It did not work the way they hoped."

To this I almost laugh.

Indeed, it certainly didn't turn out nearly as cleanly as the angels likely hoped. Because in the thousands of years Valerian has been banished down here, not only has he built a loyal following, but a empire of his own, with enough power and reverence to match even that of the angels.

Valerian hasn't suffered down here. He has thrived.

"Indeed," he chuckles lightly, wings shifting behind him as he steadies himself in his seat. "But my so called 'debauchery' was one of the stories the angels particularly liked to spin at my trial you see, and the title sort of stuck. But it does have its origin, as such," he affirms with a brief nod of his head, giving me a fleeting wink. Furrowing my brows in puzzlement, I lean forward to meet him, my vision hazy and unfocused, brain muddled with thoughts of angels, and demons, and spinning with the occasional thought of just what sort of debauchery Valerian entails.

"So you were a hedonist bastard then?"

Valerians laugh spikes the hair as he throws back his head.

"Hardly! Though the angels certainly would call it that."

With an ever growing confusion, I rest my hands upon my knees, sinking into myself.

"So what did you do then?"

Valerian looks at me, giving a long, sad, smile. For a moment, the air grows quite, holding its breath for the confession that is surely to come. Then he breathes out wistfully, tipping back his head as he whispers:

"I fell in love."