The Devils Flowers
- Reads 44
- Votes 2
- Parts 7
MatureOngoing11m
Last published Fri, Jul 15, 2016
Lucifer was sitting on his throne, made from the bones of the damned. He was in an all black robes, his hair was ruffled, his skin pale as snow, his eyes pure black. A soldier busted in, resting in his arms was an infant bundled in the man's cloak. Lucifer stood silently and walked towards the other man, eyes set intensely on the baby. He moved like a shadow, and was standing before the iron clad man in a matter of seconds.
"The mother?" Lucifer murmured
"She was dead when I got there my lord, the child was crying in the middle of the forest" The soldier said emotionlessly. Lucifer was looking at the baby intensely, suddenly, gently, he took the child into his arms.
"Send word to my father, tell him I have a daughter, and her name is Cala. Like her mother's favorite flowers"
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"Lilith! You little sneak!" Her sisters laughed as she remained perched on the tree branch. She leaned down, grinning, her brown hair falling like a curtain in front of her beautiful face. Her blue eyes were gleaming with mischief as she stuck her tongue out. "I always win at hide and seek." "Yes, because you're a sneak!" Nesta said, fondly chuckling. She slid off the tree eventually to join her parents and sisters for dinner, laughing, carefree. A few years later, she was hunting and killing, stealthy and quiet as a panther stalking after its victims. Nobody called her a little sneak anymore, nobody but that evil, traitorous voice in her head: and it certainly wasn't spoken with affection. ... Kallias' hands trembled more than he'd like to admit as he held his daughter for the first time: she looked like the perfect mix of her mother and father, only warmer, sweeter, as if to signal the war was over: warmer days had come. She had curly blonde hair, some shades darker than her parents' and blue eyes- the ocean's shade, not the ice's. Vivianne stood behind Kallias, her voice slightly wobbling as she looked at her- their child. "She's beautiful." She whispered, and harshly shallowed, trying not to cry. War was over- war was over, her family was alive, and nothing, absolutely nothing could go wrong anymore. "We will name her Amelia. It means soft in Ancient Greek. And soft she will be." Kallias muttered, running his fingers over his daughter's cheek. ... Two girls: one mortal and one Faerie. Two stories, one ending.Complete
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Father was lounging in his chair, his legs up against the armrest. He smirked at me as I come in. "Did you like my present?" I glower. "Oh yes. Very thoughtful of you. Sending an assassin to kill your son." Father laughs. "You should've been more careful. And it took you so long to send it back." I grit my teeth. "Oh don't be mad. You need to sharpen your skills. Whatever skills you do have." I stay silent, grounding my fist into my thigh. Father leans back against his chair, folding his hands. "So. Have you made any progress?" I stare at the ground. Father frowns. "Are you serious? You are my son. It should not be this hard to do. A couple nations enslaved, others annihilated, I don't see what the problem is." I glare at him. "Firstly, I don't have any resources or weapons. And the humans speak a completely different language I don't even know. Secondly, how the Djinn am I gonna get the energy to do all that?" Father cocks his head. "Improvise." I'm going to re-write this story seeing as I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out, so stay tuned!Complete
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"Lilith! You little sneak!" Her sisters laughed as she remained perched on the tree branch. She leaned down, grinning, her brown hair falling like a curtain in front of her beautiful face. Her blue eyes were gleaming with mischief as she stuck her tongue out. "I always win at hide and seek." "Yes, because you're a sneak!" Nesta said, fondly chuckling. She slid off the tree eventually to join her parents and sisters for dinner, laughing, carefree. A few years later, she was hunting and killing, stealthy and quiet as a panther stalking after its victims. Nobody called her a little sneak anymore, nobody but that evil, traitorous voice in her head: and it certainly wasn't spoken with affection. ... Kallias' hands trembled more than he'd like to admit as he held his daughter for the first time: she looked like the perfect mix of her mother and father, only warmer, sweeter, as if to signal the war was over: warmer days had come. She had curly blonde hair, some shades darker than her parents' and blue eyes- the ocean's shade, not the ice's. Vivianne stood behind Kallias, her voice slightly wobbling as she looked at her- their child. "She's beautiful." She whispered, and harshly shallowed, trying not to cry. War was over- war was over, her family was alive, and nothing, absolutely nothing could go wrong anymore. "We will name her Amelia. It means soft in Ancient Greek. And soft she will be." Kallias muttered, running his fingers over his daughter's cheek. ... Two girls: one mortal and one Faerie. Two stories, one ending.
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