Convoke.

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The days all seemed to roll into one, and Craig was simply riding the motions of life. By day he spent his hours working, trying to look prim and somewhat in control of his life. By night, he was cramming in as much information as he could regarding performing such ritual to retrieve his demon.

Settling a cup of coffee on the shelf inside his own basement, he took a moment to observe the area of which he took a lot of time creating. Candles lined the edges of the room, windows were blacked out to keep prying eyes out, the sigil painted across the concrete floor in deep red and his old, golden book rested under his arm for now. He stood proudly too, well dressed in his Sunday best attire, clergy collar and all.

He huffed, settling to the floor before it all. What if this was a trick? He began to ponder. What if what he felt when he touched that sigil upstairs was a way to convince him to bring back some kind of chaos? He tried to push that to the back of his mind, his fingers flicking through the worn and tired book to search for the passage he needed.

He read it once, then again, and once more to be certain. It was now or never.

'Okay... Let's do this.' He exhaled, talking to himself. A palm helped push him back up to this feet, his stance mere feet away from the crimson sigil. Inhaling, he nodded then cleared his throat before Latin escaped his thin lips.

He continued to speak, though with some difficulty, while dropping the book behind him. His paled fingers slipping into his jacket pocket to retrieve an object.

A thin silvery blade found itself within Craig's grip. His fingers played with the hilt for a moment while he mentally prepared for what he had to do next. Baring his left palm, the right gripped the blade tightly, hovering the dagger above his palm. Allowing his eyes to flutter shut, the pastor braced himself as he guided the tip of the knife over his palm. He dug it in as much as he mentally could, his teeth clasping together as the pain seared his hand. Blood pooled the new wound while he discarded the knife beside him with a clatter. He tried his best not to mix obscenities with his chant.

Outstretching his hand, his blood let began - he just hoped it was enough. Palm facing the floor, the blood slowly dripped small dashes upon the sigil. Craig flexed his hand a couple of times, trying to keep the wound open and the blood drawing.

Please work.

A few more droplets hit the sigil while his hand throbbed but nothing happened. No light show like it was before and everything remained still and silent.

'Fuck.' Nasally anger grew, his foot lashing out and colliding with a pile of boxes. 'Shit! Fuck!' He followed his plan to the letter, everything went the way it should have. Perhaps his Latin was off? Maybe there wasn't enough of his blood to perform the ritual. Craig found the floor again, legs bent at the knees and his arms folded above them. He could feel his blood start to coagulate in his palm with a mixture of pain. His eyes remained transfixed on the sigil, he couldn't come this far and not do this.

But the feeling of defeat crept in, that stupid-not-good-enough-dread that held you down like an anchor. Craigs head buried itself in his arms, his mind berating himself. Ergh, why was he so obsessed with this? He could let this all go, go back to his normal life and live out the rest of it peacefully. But part of him felt like he was living a lie, he didn't want to go back to that mundane lifestyle really. He was ready for this new chapter.

Exhaling, Craig began mumbling the Latin words under his breath once again while his bloodied hand traced and danced along the painted sigil patterns. It was a feeble last ditch attempt before throwing in the towel for the night.

Several moments of nothing passed but it didn't cease the pastors chanting. He was ready to pull his hand away, but as he motioned to do so - a flicker of light burnt through the crimson outline. Yes. He grinned, yes this was working! A gust of air breezed through the room, the candles extinguishing where they stood and tumbled to the floor. The Pastor backed off as the rooms temperature gradually starting to raise around him. The sigil burnt brighter before releasing an eruption of hellfire upwards. It much played out the same way as what he had previously witnessed, the exception this time was the demons entrance. Last time he was so exuberant, dramatic - this time he could barely pull themselves out of the ground. Taloned skeletal hands clawed up at the ground above, struggling to grip onto the concrete. Again, flesh and skin formed around the bones as they emerged but it didn't seem to help his advances.

Without thinking, Craig had leapt forward and extended his own arm into the hellfire - his hand finding the demons and latching on, gripping it securely. He heaved, pulling the other out of the depths of hell as quickly as he could with what strength he had. His wounded hand managed to find the other hand, he managed to ignore the pain for now while he grasped and tugged as hard as he could. The demon tumbled forwards, feet barely catching him as he found himself on solid ground once more while the pastor tried to keep him upright.

'C-Craig...' The blond croaked, his voice sounding hoarse as their eyes met briefly. The demon was a state; beaten and bloodied, blue and black. Every inch of his body was afflicted with some kind of wound or bruise. The pastor could not believe that this was the same guy he had seen less than a month ago. Tweek managed to hold himself up, just for a moment - clawed hands used Craig's shoulders for support. 'Th-thank you, Craig... Thank you!' He stuttered, breathless before his entire frame slumped forwards and into Craig's chest. He propped his arms out to try and break his fall as best as possible, but his figure was so tall and lanky - Craig struggled to get his passed out body to the floor as safely as possible.

'What did they do to you, Tweek?' Craig whispered, his eyes studying the vast amount damage and punishment this demon had taken. It wasn't pretty.

The sigils portal closed its doors again, sealing the two worlds off from each other once more.

Well, Craig had succeeded. He just wasn't sure what he was to do with the passed out demon on his basement floor.

Desolation //Imp Tweek x Pastor Craig //Where stories live. Discover now