Me And The Devil | Sebastian Michaelis x OC

8

Sebastian raised his eyebrows with a pleasant smile on his face, playing at being completely innocent as Juliet glared at him. "But my lady, you truly are as brilliant a jewel as they come. How could I help myself, given the opportunity to compare you to one?" He teased her flirtatiously. As they walked away from the bedroom, he ran his silk gloved thumb across the back of her hand. He could only imagine the stress and worry that Juliet was feeling for her mother, and how much time she probably wanted to spend directly at her side. But she was right. The woman needed her rest if she was going to hold on for a little longer, so even if the carriage wasn't fully prepared, it was a good call to give her her privacy.

While passing the portraits, their destroyed fragments hanging limply behind sheer curtains, Sebastian slowed, turning to look at one. He narrowed his eyes and raised his hand to hold his chin, as if appraising a masterpiece. He didn't wish to further Juliet's anxiety, but if he was truly anything like that of a cat, his curiosity was the most discernible attribute. And the most deadly. "These paintings .." He turned to look at her, seeking out whatever explanation she was comfortable with providing him. "May I ask what happened to them? They *are* rather distracting, given that they're still mounted on the wall despite their .. sorry state. You may deny me this request if you would rather that." He said. "But I'm rather taken with them." He caught the way her eyes momentarily strayed to his lips, as if she was thinking about something other than the topic at hand. He smiled thoughtfully, unable to take his eyes off of her, either.

In the dimly lit hallway, they had to stand close together to see the picture frames and the barely visible remainder of what was once hanging inside of them. Her face was illuminated by the candlelight and it softened her features. Even though his question was invasive and the tone of the conversation was bound to be heavy, he admired her all the same, and stepped a little closer, wanting to know more about her.

Juliet's lips pressed into a firm line, neither a smile or frown when he questioned the paintings. Instead of immediately answering she moved closer, taking the sheet off the painting and her fingers delicately pushed one of the torn part of the face of a man to hold it showing his features. He looked practically nothing like her, the only shared features being their pale skin and the chestnut color to their hair. The man looked haughty, as if even in the painting he was cocky viewing himself above whoever gazed on the painting. "It's my father. He left years ago, not long after my mother fell ill and just before I was set to debute to high society." She started, her hand trembling slightly in his. Her brows furrowed in frustration and anger as her eyes looked at the painting. "He ran off with a former maid in the middle of the night, I found out the next morning along with how he had many affairs with the maids who have since left. He was a vile man. Wanted to marry me off to men well over twenty years my senior when I was just sixteen, he found me bothersome, too headstrong, too rambunctious, too smart for a girl, too opinionated. For many months I wasn't a pleasant person after he left. Gretchen would often find me destroying any portrait of him I could find with a dagger screaming and crying like a madwomen." She explained, her voice wavering a few times but she continued through it. Her hand on the canvas messed with the frayed end before quickly ripping the already tattered canvas slightly more, letting her hand fall from the painting. "I want to get rid of them but my mother says that if I remove them before she is gone she'll haunt me forever. Despite how awful a pathetic excuse of a human he was, he was her husband before my father. I suppose it's to be expected she can't quite let go of him." She mused bitterly as she glared at the painting. Her eyes were dark with the unfiltered wrath, her voice dripping with disgust at the actions of the man.

She finally turned her eyes from the painting to Sebastian, the fire in her heart was bright with pure homicidal energy. "If I ever laid eyes on him again I would beat the asshole into a bloody pulp. I would break each and every bone slowly so he would feel even an ounce of the pain he put my mother and I thought. I want to see him beg for forgiveness and mercy, crawling at my feet. And then I want to deny him it, perhaps cut out his tongue so I never have to hear a vile lie from him again." Despite her cruel words she had a sweet smile on her lips, the idea seeming to bring her great joy. Despite her sweet disposition it was apparent why she was considered a threat to those who cross her. She knew how to hold a grudge and to make someone suffer.
Her eyes traveled away from his eyes when she finally realized just how close they were and how the dim light made for an intimate feel despite the heavy subject matter. A small blush formed on her cheeks as she looked at his lips, despite her age she had never kissed someone or felt a want to before. But Sebastian awakened that curiosity and yearning in her for physical affection.