Careless dancing

"Your manners truly are quite something. But yes, chérie, I will tell you if that is what you wish."

Bluntly, I nod.

"Good, now turn away you fucking pervert, I am going to get changed, else I will have to make an early departure."

Without another word (thankfully being co-operative), the Devil turns his back on me, whistling lightly to himself, his tail thrumming lightly on the ground, wings beating with the motion and turmoil of the updraft coming from some place around us. Fixedly, I train my eyes on his back, intent on ensuring that he does not turn around while I am changing, or at least if he does, I have a good enough aim on him to land several punches on his face if needed. Though if it is as he says and my punches cannot hurt him, I suppose they will do little more than inconvenience him- but then again inconvenience is better than nothing at all.

Sighing inwardly, I start to pull off the straps of my wedding dressing, slinging it onto the ground with as much fervour as I dare, my mind rolling over all the possibilities of where best to land a punch. It is not that I particularly want to punch him- but much thanks to my mother, I have been brought up with the firm belief that crimes should be retributed with an equal punishment- even if that punishment is little more than an inconvenience. Slowly, continuing to strip myself of my watery garments, I mull over this thought, smiling a little. At least it will be a painful inconvenience.

It doesn't take my long to get changed, my eyes continuing to drill holes into Valerian's sculpted form as I kick aside the revolting white wedding dress and tug on the crimson silken clothes, pulling the drawstring on the pants to tighten to the waist and buttoning up each button on the top with a slow and meticulous care. When at last I cough purposely to signal my completion of the task, Valerian checks over his shoulder, quickly, before spinning around to face me, eyebrows raised.

"Did you have a fun time eyeing me up, chérie?" he chuckles darkly, scooping up the towel off the floor along with my wedding dress, slinging them both over his shoulder with a careless ease as he approaches a drying wrack and hoists the garments over it. I do not give him the satisfaction of an answer. Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn't- the matter is of no concern of his anyway.

Sighing when he realises with a fall of his face that he is not getting any answers from me, he paces towards the door, beckoning me to follow with a singular curve of his finger.

"Come on," he beckons once more, clacking his fingers against the door, tail flicking with a subtle impatience. "I think its best time I show you to your room. Its going to be a long day tomorrow, the least you can do is get some rest."

Holding it open, he lets me pass into the corridor wordlessly, tailing after me as I stalk out the room, fresh and clean, and utterly purified. Gratefully, I give a little nod as I go, murmuring my appreciation for the gesture. Then I bound on down the corridors, letting the coolness of our perfumed surroundings wash over me.

"Chérie," Valerian murmurs softly, pulling himself up to pace level with me, his wings brushing my arms as we walk, sending shivers racing down my spine. Gently, mid pace, he brings me to a halt, placing his hands on my shoulders to turn me to face towards him. Peering closer, he asks: "Are you angry with me? You are very quiet."

The sheer hurt in his words surprises me- for someone who boasts the fact that he can't be harmed he certainly sounds far from it. There is a waver in his voice, a quiver, that I hadn't quite caught before, a twinge of melancholy that slinks across the shadows of his face that is just enough to signify that something isn't right. For a moment, I remain silent. A tinge of regret rings through me at his words. There are many things I am feeling, but anger is not one of them.

Feeling his gaze continue to persist, I sigh.

"No, I'm sorry. I know I can be a bit shit sometimes. Sure the surprise water bath was a bit of an inconvenience, but you have been good to me today, you have saved me from a lot of troubles. It's not even like you brought me here against my will. Really, I should be thanking you."

Giving me a wan smile, the devil shakes his head. Gently he brings his finger up to curl around the wet ringlets of white hair snaking around my face, twirling it against his finger with an absent, far off expression.

"Not at all, Princess. While you may have agreed into coming here, you came to a place you knew nothing about, with customs and prophecies you have never heard of, and people who could scare the face of the moon. You have every right to be upset, or angry. I understand there are probably a lot of things you wish to know right now, but I will give you them all in time, I do not want to overwhelm you, chérie," he adds tenderly, ghosting his fingers along the side of my face, his tail flicking up against my calf. Staving off the flush that threatens to rise upon my cheeks, I say:

"Are you always like this?"

The devil throws me a puzzled look, pulling back slightly.

"Like what?"

"A flirt," I say, crossing my arms over myself with a smug grin, at last feeling the regret fade away, replaced by my usual witty self. I soon forget about that look that flashed across Valerian's face moments ago, forget about everything except how to be an annoying, sarcastic girl. Ah, so good to be normal. Lowering his eyes at me, the Devil laughs lowly.

"Now I suppose that just depends," he chuckles, curving around me in a strange dancing waltz, his wings splayed theatrically behind him, feathers uplifting in the cool of the air. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me up with him, tailing me along in a conservative dance, twirling me around in the middle of the hallway as though it were a dance room.

What an odd place to dance. Then again, everything about this place- Valerian included- is the epitome of odd.

"Depends on what?" I press quizzically, a grin forming on my lips as I twirl round once again, caught up in a sudden rush of adrenaline.

There is something magical about dancing with the devil in the middle of an abandoned hallway, something that feels strangely elicit, and yet equally intimate, as if just for one second, the rest of the world and problems residing on my shoulder could fade away into the night. There are many tales that paint the devil's dance as a drug, an addiction, that once you are swept up in his arms, you can never stop dancing, lost in the silent rhythm of his darkness and the steady thrum of his immortal heart. They say his lips are so intoxicating that one kiss would claim you as his forever. They also say the devil has not kissed a soul in his life- though I am sure with looks as he has, he has many takers. Of course, these are all the stories that Al and I used to share under the stars at bedtime, but being here with him now, the Devil himself, one can only wonder which rumours are true, and which are false.

Valerian's answer to my question is immediate.

"It depends if I am talking to you, or not."