Drunk in the Devil's room

Slowing down our spontaneous dance, I prod him lightly in the chest, eliciting a small smile from him. I suppose the tales were right about one thing, the Devil is a fucking flirt.

"Funny," I say sarcastically but smile anyway, straightening out the buttons on my shirt just as Valerian drops my hand, ending our dance as the music in my head trails off into oblivion. Dusting off his hands, the Devil stands there for a moment, surveying me with a series of curious glances.

"What?" I say sharply, realising he has not stopped staring at me for a good five seconds- which is five seconds too long for anyone, Valerian included. Absently, the devil shakes his head, splaying his hands wide around the corridor.

"I could have sworn you were spoken for, young lady, and here you are accepting my flirtatious remarks with smiles and witty remarks. Not that I am complaining, but I think between you and me, you have had a drop too much to drink chérie," Valerian says, clasping his hand over mine with a knowing look, bringing my hands back close to my chest to prevent me from doing anything remotely rash. Staring up at him, I frown slightly.

True, my head might be a little woozy, and I suppose if I really think about it, I do feel a bit intoxicated, but I did only have one glass of wine -or was it two?- and last I checked I am not that much of a lightweight. At least I don't remember being.

"I'm not spoken for, well, not really" I sigh as Valerian drops my hand, respectfully backing up to give me room as I twiddle my hair between my fingers, still wet from my untimely soak in the strange purple pool of death. Sure I may have forgiven him for that ungraciously sudden act of embarrassment, but I sure as hell won't let him forget it. At least not for the next ten years or so.

"You saved me from that ungodly marriage, remember? Good thing too, I had no idea he was a demon slayer. To be honest, I just have Alastor and, well…" I pause, breaking off to collect my thoughts, realising not for the first time today that despite everything, I am not sure exactly what Alastor is to me. A friend? A lover? There has been nothing official between us, no sappy proclamation of undying love under a canopy of stars while laying hand in hand with nothing but each other's company. No vows, no gifts, and certainly no wedding, just each others friendship and a peculiar yet shared interest in one day making it to the Downside.

For all I know, perhaps everything he did today was spontaneous- a bout of feeling pushed by the jealousy for another.

He kissed me once- and I kissed him, in front of everyone, under a canopy of the wedding I crashed for myself. Yes, there was never anything official between us, and part of me thinks the two of us might have just been acting spontaneously in order to spite the wedding that I never planned for to begin with. Another part of me thinks that is an entirely idiotic notion- people don't just go kissing people for the heck of it. And spontaneous fun wouldn't explain the feelings that blossomed the moment my lips touched his, the passion that had coursed through my body when my fingertips have entwined in his hair, felt his hands upon my waist...

I would be a fool to think we were just friends. Not after that.

"I guess I will have to ask him what we are next time I see him," I sigh, rubbing my temples with the exasperation of it all. "Besides, I am always witty and sarcastic, so suck it up, Valerian, I'm your consort now." I say, my mouth slinking into a widened grin, flashing him a devilish look.

Valerian rolls his eyes.

"I will bear that in mind, Princess. But that still doesn't change the fact you are indeed drunk. And don't try to deny it," he adds, noticing me open my mouth to refute the matter. "Currently your heart is racing, the alcohol you consumed is extremely strong, and I believe you almost downed three glasses. The effects are delayed but sudden, they should hit you in-"

A gorge rises in my throat and all at once I am bent double, clutching my stomach in the best attempt I can make of holding in vomit. Valerian scowls.

"Yup, there it is."

Glancing up from the side of my vision, I suddenly realise the room is swaying.

"What the fuck do you drink down here," I grumble, clutching my sides. "What is it, some kind of poison?"

Valerian gives me a sympathetic look, as though understanding the feeling all too well, yet remains unanswering. Resting a hand upon my shoulder, he guides me gently along the corridor, a hand hovering over my waist to ensure I do not stumble and fall. But my feet seem to be getting heavier and heavier by the second, the effects of the alcohol finally kicking in and grinding my body to a dizzying halt. Everything only goes downhill from there.

My head spins woozily, as though all at once being hit with ten shots at once.

Maybe I should have avoided drinking on my first night in the Downside after all.

"The nectar really goes to your head fast," Valerian muses, his eyes trained on me as I do my absolute best not to make a fool of myself, turning corridors and attempting to keep my legs walking in a straight line- though failing miserably. Fast would be an understatement. A three glasses of alcohol and my head feels like it's going to melt off its sockets from the sheer potency of it all.

"What the fuck is nectar?" I ask, gazing up at him slowly, my head dizzy, my vision blurred as my vocabulary fades from cognition. Continuing to press his hand against my back, the Devil murmurs:

"It's the alcohol we make from the forbidden fruit- at least that's what you call it in the Upper Realm. It's just a golden apple with a series of magical properties when eaten alone- not good for mortals, it makes a strong suggestibility poison. But brewed into a liquor and it's the finest alcohol you could get your hands on. It offers a truly wonderful experience- though admittedly you have consumed a rather large quantity for your first time drinking. Luckily for you, it dispels from your system rather quickly, a good nights rest should do the trick."

Before I can reply, Valerian tugs open a door at the end of the corridor and pulls me inside.

I barely manage to keep myself upright as I stumble in, my legs tripping out beneath me, like a baby deer just taking its first few steps- and even that is a generous analogy. A baby deer would imply I have at least some grace, or beauty, but the truth of the matter is that I have none, zero, nil poi- in fact I don't ever think I have been graceful once in my life. That sort of thing simply doesn't come with the rebellious daughter territory.

"Steady on there, chérie," Valerian calls, reaching out to catch me under the stomach just as I am about to topple forward face first onto a nice red carpet. I barely have the cognition to make out the features of the new room we are in- it looks vaguely like a living quarters- a large crimson rug in the middle, fluffy too, with two couches in the middle of the room, bookshelves pressed up against the wall and a grand piano in the corner of the room, shiny clean and obviously frequently played. Alicia had a piano in her parents house- she learned how to play before she went into the styling profession, but I was never very good at it. Of course, that was mostly down to the fact my mind was focused on other priorities- such as our quest to search for a hole to hell, or figure out how I was going to beat Alastor in our next sword (stick) fight. My mind is rather one tracked like that.

"Where are we?" I grin woozily, placing my hand upon my head before letting go of Valerian to dance around the room. I make a few prods to the sheek black couch, and upon finding it buoyant enough for my weight, plop myself down. Like melted butter I sink against the couch, letting my cares and worries melt away as I slide further and further down, giggling to myself at the mixture of expression that pass over Valerian's face.

"Ah, so the nectar makes you giggly, interesting," he muses to himself, running a hand over his head as he strides he strides over, putting a steady hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. I frown.

"These," he says slowly, likely for my sake, as he gestures around the room. "Are my quarters."