C'thelli's Demonic Orphanage (Completed and Editing)

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After a hundred years of solitary confinement in the deepest dungeon of Hell penitentiary, and numerous appeals, Feimo was finally granted freedom in return for a decade of community service (and they say public defenders are useless!). The only caveat was that prime minister Lucifer wanted to spread his ex-convicts as far as his influence extended, keeping the remnants of Satan's army disjointed from the devil king's influence, and so demons like himself were sent all throughout the realms; some remained in the Underworld, tucked away in their family homes, while others were less lucky and instead were tasked as admins, librarians, or sailors in Purgatory. As for himself, he along with hundreds of others were to settle on Earth. Although they were closely watched by the fallen angel's Eyes for any mistake.

He was sentenced to a small village in the countryside of France. From what he heard, it was a total wasteland. But still, Feimo beamed at the thought, at least it wasn't Heaven! He couldn't have imagined the awkwardness of trying to mingle with the angels and the big man in the chair. What kind of conversations could he have with them that didn't involve Satan's attempted invasion and Lucifer's subsequent coup? "Hey, sorry about all the merciless war and bloodshed. Wanna be friends?" It could have worked, maybe. At least the bouncer gig in front of those shiny gates could have been fun.

But alas, he was given his assignment and was told to pack. He had just enough time to throw his worldly possessions; a nail file, toothbrush and a knife into a bundle of shirts that were then tied around a large stick. He was then hailed by a guard waiting outside. His blood-folk were sad to see him go, or more accurately, were sad to see Lucifer's soldiers. His brood-mate cried for him while the other cast a grim look over his captors and called them traitors. 

But Feimo was excited. He gave them a bright smile and insisted that his departure was a matter for celebration - an adventure he proclaimed! The earthy scent of his matron's stalagmite garden wafted into his nostrils as he set down the grey path and towards the open door of the Reaper's carriage.

Once he was settled in the deep red leather seats of the black carriage, he lifted his hand to wave goodbye. Two out of the three hundred members of his brood actually turned up. But the carriage driver appeared to have woken up on the wrong side of immortality as the door slammed shut with a mystical force. "Wow, those are some mighty hinges." Feimo murmured dejectedly. He lowered his hand sheepishly, unable to hear his brood wish him well. A second later and the loud crack of the whips on open air propelled the horseless carriage forwards, violently firing the vehicle into the air like a bolt from a crossbow. 

The force of the vehicle's jolt pressed him into the cushions. The velvet chair slowly engulfed him, like a monster giving him a big hug. Eventually a forceful tremor took hold of the perfectly vertical carriage. The demon's teeth chattered in his mouth as his grey eyes rolled into the back of his head. His form was so deep into the chair that the straw hat upon his blonde mane of hair popped over his eyes. Thankfully the driver heeded his mumbled prayers and snapped the vehicle to a stop after another minute of the brutal ascent.

Taking a gasp for air, Feimo clawed his way out of the chair. Readjusting his hat, his usually sour milk complexion sported a green wooziness. "The lift off is always the worst leg of the journey." A ghoul dressed in the reaper's black robe appeared in the seat opposite, he had the demon's knife and studied it with a faint intrigue. An intern's name tag read "Auster" in bold letters. He threw the weapon out of the window and fumbled with his clipboard. 

"Woah, did you just teleport? That's awesome!" Awestruck, he shot his claws out in search for a high-five. Still nauseous from the shocking ride, the sudden excitement pushed him over the edge. 

Outside of the reaper's carriage, the vast fields of France spread out beneath the flying vehicle. Farms were gold with flourishing wheat, swaying in the wind. Windmills churned and birds cawed. A soft breeze carried a sweet budding pollen in the air from the nearby forests and bright green fields below. It was almost as green as the chunky bile trailing behind the carriage, streaming over the blue sky and gliding into a cottage with a splat.