Good Little Dreamer

Part 1

Christopher stands at the window overlooking the busy city, the lights bright and glistening before his eyes despite it's after midnight. The city never sleeps, it's perfect for demons and other creatures to thrive in.

"Christopher, what are you brooding about?"

The ancient demon withholds a sigh, his hazel eyes flicking to the reflection of the woman behind him.

"Nothing, Evangeline."

Christopher is tired. The past few years have really taken their toll on him, and all he wants to do is sleep. He wishes there was some way he could ignore the rest of the world, forget everything, and just take a four hundred year nap. He's tired of his brothers and their incessant troublemaking, of his father and his irritating need to have more sons every few centuries. He doesn't want to clean up their messes anymore just because he's the eldest, he just --- he wants out.

"We've known each other much too long for me to believe that," the lone female demon replies from her chaise lounge. She gazes at him, her chin propped on her hand as her eyes trail down his back.

She's the only female demon in existence, some genetic fluke. She's infertile, one of her best qualities in her mind, and so now all the other supernaturals leave her be to her own wiles. She can choose her lovers now, who she wishes to bed and not be forced just because of her sex.

She and Christopher have been lovers for centuries now, off and on when they're in the same city. She usually prefers Paris, the city of her birth, compared to the rest of the world, but sometimes she does make exceptions. Her blood red hair is held back by a blue ribbon at the nape of her neck, long curled tresses falling down to her lower back. She's as pale as snow, her skin smooth and blemish free, nails painted and hands soft as silk. She's been pampered her entire life, has an infinite amount of money, which she uses for her amusement.

She's selfish, and cruel, just like any demon; her being a woman makes no difference.

"Come, don't be a bore." She says, her accent making her words lilt. She's stayed in France as much as possible, so she's retained her accent through all her centuries of life. "Is it about that girl again? The one who's asleep?"

Christopher grimaces at the reminder. He hadn't meant to tell Evangeline about you, but it had slipped one miserable night. He used to find solace in being in the arms of the female demon, of letting her long nails rake through his hair and her soft kisses soothe his frustration with his family. Now, however, times are changing, and she only brings him irritation with her narcissistic attitude.

"No, it's my brothers." He lies, but she can't tell the difference. She likes to think she knows him so well, but she forgets he can read her thoughts; Evangeline is a special demon, and she is immune to any physical sort of powers. No one can make her body fall asleep, or cast a spell that would throw her through the air or light her on fire. Mental powers, like reading her mind, or making her hallucinate, those are different.

"They will not stop their need for causing chaos," he continues, finally turning around to face her. He's shirtless, wearing only his trousers, his raven hair messed as it falls to his shoulders. Black lines run across his skin in every direction, creating pictures and designs that tell of his power, although to a mere mortal they mean nothing. Evangeline's eyes trail across his chest appreciatively, dipping down to the V of his exposed hips. "I'm weary of them."

"As anyone would be, Christopher. It's exhausting caring for those who aren't your responsibility." Little bastards should appreciate he even bothers with them.

Christopher snorts at the thought.

Reading minds isn't simple, no one truly thinks in words or sentences. It's more emotions, connections here and there to form realizations. He picks through them, understands them, and it's been immensely helpful in his survival throughout the centuries.