Chapter Text
He didn't remember the walk, or the following days. But when he was conscious next, he struggled to believe his eyes. Mainly because he was very poorly blindfolded. Wherever he was, though, the space was dark and barren, the air stagnant. He would think he was in a cave, except even caves had drafts. Cave or not, though, he had more concerns than the specifics.
When he moved to stretch, the sound of pure, jingling metal froze him in his tracks. It was problematic enough that he was evidently chained, but iron bindings made a heavy clanking. The pure noise which pierced the air was instead the sound of blessed silver, formed into chains seemingly too delicate to hold a human, much less a demon. Yet they held him all too well.
His captor must have been waiting nearby, as his sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps before he could even fully stretch. It was only moments after that he felt the chill of blessedly normal metal beneath his jaw. "Good morning, demon," a melodic voice hissed in his ear. "You were trying real hard to run from somebody, weren't you? Poor thing." Stinging fingers traced up his jawbone, reaching up to tug the blindfold off of his face, and he blinked in the suddenly blinding light.
Squinting, the demon looked down, noticing that he stood atop a podium, his feet bare and bandaged. He turned back to the angel, realizing his dilemma. "If I must die by your hand, then I only request that you make it swift, for I committed no crime, except that of mere existence." He held his head high, waiting. But beneath him, the angel only chuckled.
"Silly demon," he sang out, withdrawing the glistening blade. "Do you realize how long it has taken me to get a demon here, alive? Your kind is always so quick to turn to destruction, even of your own self. No, I don't think that it is quite your time. I have much better plans for you. Call me Nicodemus, you'll know me long enough that my name will surely be necessary for you to know."
The demon tilted his head, confused. What better plans? What foul things did this angel - Nicodemus - intend on doing? "If you will not kill me, let me leave. I do not belong here. I will not be kept here," he finally replied, snapping sharp teeth together for emphasis, his slender tail whipping back and forth as he tried to lean in towards the angel. Not that the angel appeared all too disturbed, merely stepping back a bit.
Nicodemus hardly flinched at the outburst, instead giving his head a small shake. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" He asked with a grin. "That's all right, buddy. You'll grow out of that eventually. You'll become the timid little mutt that everyone wants. Gentle, quiet, useful…you wiIl learn." Almost as if mocking him, the angel leapt atop the podium, gently stroking the demon's shaggy hair, mindful of the fact that the sacred chains kept the clawed hands at bay.
"Surely you hunger, beast, and I won't leave you on an empty stomach. I'm not a demon, after all. But my, what a perfect little pet you'll be." Giving the demon one last pat, he turned and leapt off the podium, leaving the other to digest the harrowing information suddenly thrust upon him.
Not that he got much time for digestion, before the blessed one returned with a bowl. "I do hope you'll forgive me, feisty one, but I cannot just return to you your claws. You must earn my trust to gain back that right, and so far, I trust you very little. Work with me, and perhaps then I will deem it proper to return to you some of your freedom." Nicodemus swung himself onto the podium, stirring the contents of the bowl he held before lifting a spoon to the demon's lips, encouraging him to drink. The contents smelled sweet, and his stomach panged, but stubbornly, he kept his lips tightly closed, eying the food with heavy suspicion.
The angel tried to force past his lips, but the demon held firm, until the angel withdrew the spoon with an annoyed huff. "Stubborn creature." He muttered. "I think I'll be naming you Genesis. If you gain any common sense, maybe you'll prove a flicker of hope for the other lost ones. You demons will soon be a dying breed. There's big plans ahead, Genesis. It would be a shame if you fell prey to them."
What happened next was in a flash. One moment, the angel stood before him, beneath the pedestal, almost giving Genesis the feeling of the higher ground. The next, they stood face to face. Nicodemus gripped him by his long hair with one hand, the other gripping the bowl, forcing the hot contents down the demon's throat, choking him. He gasped and clawed, but the blessed one did not let up until the bowl was empty, only then releasing his grip.
Genesis gasped and wheezed, falling to his knees, arms pulled uncomfortably above his head. His vision pulsed and his stomach turned as the mysterious soup settled, and he resisted the urge to retch it back up, staring at the surface in front of him as it swam and blurred. As the blurring slowly turned to fading, he became vaguely aware of the angel stroking his hair.