calbrina oneshots

a work of divinity pt. 1

The amber shaded liquid poured artfully into the clear glass, Dorian giving a proud smirk and tipping the large bottle of aged scotch upward. He nodded towards the wondering demon and respectfully busied himself on cleaning other glasses. The demon took his glass and swigged the scotch. Few men were chatting or staring emptily off into space all around Dorian's Gray Room, some laughing, others listening bored. The traveling demon looked around the room, observing each warlock carefully. Most looked young enough to attend the Academy of Unseen Arts, while others seemed to be regulars here. He sipped the last of his scotch and set down the glass, walking off into the room, his fingers gracefully buttoning up his suit jacket. All black, of course.

The demon stared longingly towards the regal fireplace, enjoying the look of each slithering flame. He loved the way fire moved, sloppy and destructive. It soothed him. Down in Hell, despite what every mortal believes, there isn't hoards of fire surrounding every wall or pit. Hell is actually destitute minus Pandemonium, the only location where fire breathes happily. The demon sighs as he recalls the familiarity and strange sort of comfort he secured of Hell. It was his home. He looked up again, eyeing the booming flames as if they were the ones who dragged him up from Hell and gave him a mission to watch mortals and witches.

His eye caught on a dark haired man from across the room, thick eyebrows and a nicely proportioned face. The demon stood in his place and narrowed his eyes at the young man. They held each other's eye until the black haired boy rose from his armchair, nodding off two other boy's and walking over to the demon. He cleared his throat and put on a friendly grin.

"Hi. I'm Nick. Nick Scratch." He introduced himself, offering his hand out for a firm handshake. The demon glanced towards his hand and then back up to his face, the smile unsettling. It looked unnatural against his other features. He shook his hand and pulled back quickly, not wanting to be held onto for too long. Nick pinched his lips to a line and furrowed his brows at the demon, scanning his face as if he had any flaws. This was starting to get awkward.

"I've never seen you here before. Are you new in town?" Nick asked, his fists settling in his pants pockets. The demon smiled at this Inquisition, "new in town". He was anything but.

"Something like that." The demon responded. Nick nodded and looked at him like he would rather be anywhere else, but also like this demon was the most interesting thing he's seen. The demon tilts his head and waits for Nick to piece together another forgettable sentence dedicated to their small talk.

"Uh, what's your name?" He asked the demon.

"Caliban."

Nick gulped, his face settling into one of realization and some sort of discomfort. He took a step back. This was the reaction Caliban got from most common warlocks and regular demon. They all knew who the boy made of clay was, the famous Prince of Hell. Caliban was known amongst many in Hell as one of ruthlessness, certainly not your average demon. No, he was far from that. Caliban was regal. An arrogant monarch with little to no remorse for anyone. He was sprouted from the very depths of Hell, it is all he has ever known, until now. Caliban is examining this so called free world, watching it's way of life and excitedly planning his total domination, learning it's weak spots. He was sent by his sponsor nonetheless, Beezlebub, along with the support of every other demon in Hell.

"Look, I don't know why you're here, pretty boy, but if you're trying to start any trouble..." Nick has stepped closer to the demon, who is taller, and is trying to use a cutting edge in his voice to intimidate Caliban.