𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕬 𝕳𝖞𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍

{ Proverbs 24: 28 }

Chapter 33's song: The Dying Tree by Dennis Korn

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{ "Do not testify against your neighbor without cause- would you use your lips to mislead?." }
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"I discovered this mysterious Angelina lady from a few days back. The people I've conversed with and the speculation of her premature arrival." A soft yet tender voice is permeating through the ears of another.

"Her family's The Ginsbergs. They're known as the Devil's advocates because of their older daughter actively indulging in sin and deemed tarnished. Her action led to their reputation deteriorating and gone to the eyes of the noble. Also, their son Edwin had to be terminated from The Elitist due to unspecified circumstances." The person continues to add to his torment.

"...And the elder daughter reported your family to The Elitists, perhaps yearning to receive grace back." Lilian speculates, her eyes shifting over to the profile of Vincent who displays apathetic littering over his pale complexion. "There were a few bystanders on the day of her arrival, she was discerned to be approaching the Holy Cathedral."

"The Ginsbergs..." His soft voice is low in a whirlwind of despair, similar to that of soldiers watching their own get slaughtered in battle.

Lilian's heart begins to tug softly at her emotions, wanting to comfort the demon somehow without offending him. Regardless of her informing him about his murderer, this is somewhat helping him... hopefully. "Peculiarly enough, The Ginsberg has been receiving more attention from nobility than prior months."

"Of course, they're not concealin their doin's." He adds, that his tone is simplistic and monotonous as always. Never seeming to waver in any favors of emotion. "It's humans we speak of." Yet this statement had something slipped into him once he said the word humans. The hatred, anger, and forlorn became apparent in that split second.

The lady on the side of him begins to speak. "How would you like to proceed?" Her elocution is leisurely being stripped down to the bare bone of apathy

'Humans are nothin, but sinners and monstrous. Why would they desire ta destroy somethin analogous ta em? They are disposable in the eyes of the divine, yet they slaughter us ta be perceived as immaculate...' Vincent surmises, his slender fingers beginning to curl his hands into tight fists.

The atmosphere between the two is layered with uncertainty to determine the actions of them. The only sound being distinguished by them is the pitter-patter of their soft footsteps below them. Vincent's face hasn't changed much, if, in good lighting, her attention would have noticed his golden eyes seeming to morph into a shadow of darkness, anger, and aggression juggling within them. Wanting to consume the demon in all of its glory although his mind refuses to dance with the devil.

"Vincent.." Lilian utters out, unconsciously her hand extending out to his left bicep, the soft female's touch sparks a vehemence within him. The feeling pulled him back to reality and out of his dark depths. "We'll discuss this later."

"So..." She starts, wondering if he would be interested in being dragged into a new conversation. "What did you think about the play?" She blurts out, not knowing what else to speak of except the play they've recently watched.

"Tis relatively decent. There was some similitude between Apollo and Hyacinthus ta ma present dilemma."

"Yeah, the forbidden love and grievance stricken within Apollo would be you. The love between men shouldn't be allowed... that's what they would like to preach..." Lilian observes, registering the similarities between the play and the demon's life. "Your affection for Y/n should not have manifested. She's an elitist and you're... you. There's the inequity of your parents' demise and somehow you're still assuaged."

Although Vincent doesn't interject on the sudden factual events. His mind morphs and warps into the simple images of the young girl. Her sweet laughter littered above his head, wanting him to wonder and laugh at her jovial self. Her e/c warm eyes appear to never falter as if the light within is the fire Prometheus has stolen. Her beautiful skin is sculpted by divinity itself, her touch is pure of gold, and the fact her hands become callous and cold. Completely distorted the innocent imagery of y/n into a simple human.

To him, Y/n has never been seen as human only the divine. Her beautiful light permeates through her, ripping the sinner's motive away and guiding her into the dark abyss. She was a princess who was required to be protected at all costs. Nonetheless, the destruction of her room and agonizing wails coming from her room crack down on the divinity of her image. The tears of sorrow flood out of her, the crimson substance emerging beneath her. Something within Vincent has been altered by his old friend becoming... vulnerable.

"Y/n lost her mother..." He attempts to get the attention off of him and onto a topic he's fond of.

Lilian's eyelids lift slightly, the warmth of empathy accompanies the waves of turmoil. Although she isn't necessarily close to the mentioned teenager, she senses her body yearning to also comfort the young woman.

Although the sudden appearance to Lilian would alert y/n into becoming a pitiful person needing everyone to perceive their condolences so they can be considered a moral human. Lilian simply doesn't desire Y/n to feel as if Lilian is burdening her with the reminders of her recent loss. "You're right. Why aren't you monitoring her right now?" Lilian inquires.

"She desired ta be isolated, regardless, I shouldna have left her since she badly injured herself a couple of weeks ago." Vincent admits. Of course, the demon would voice more concern about the human than of his parents. Yet something within his guts is yelling at him to run back to the human, informing him over and over again:

Something isn't right,
Something isn't right.
Something isn't right.
Something isn't right.
Something isn't right.

SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT!!!

"How?"

"She clumsily trampled ta some glass shards, the servants there are assisting her as we speak."

Meanwhile

The protagonist's movements shift up and down in a rocky manner. Her legs become more of a burden than an automatic response. It maintains a two-second delay to every step and slight sharp pain approaching from one of her feet. Although her actions are a constant straight line going to one wall then to the other. With a small pivot to every rotation, they get to the opposite side.

"How am I supposed to catch my mother's murderer if I'm in here? I can't be ensnared in this location for my lifetime. What will I accomplish? What will I obtain? Nothing but lamentable memories in this manner. I can't..." She mutters under her breath. Her left thumbnail is settling in between her top and bottom teeth, with a bit of nibbling on the nail. Eventually, she halts her movements once her eyes plant onto a pile of paper and a pen scattered on the dark wooden table.

The conclusion of her predicament is finally resolved once the pen is in her grasp. As the object glides away onto a white paper, simply authorizing her to establish all of her thoughts onto a small thing.

Once she signs her signature, the protagonist closes the door and begins her journey...

Alone.