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You think the devil has horns?
A pretty lie
Her lips as red as the rose
And that look in her eyes
She’s soft, and kind
She’ll haunt you in her mind
A sweet disguise
Won’t make it out alive
If you asked the staff of the Hemlocke family about Miss Ivory, you’d find that, while the wording may differ, the answer was about the same.
Ash would tilt his head, hands clasped in a stiff politeness that was only reserved for visitors. “I don’t know her well, but she’s hardworking- almost too hardworking. She forgets to eat, some days.”
Ivo would look at you with disdain- not over Ivory, but over the entire situation. According to word of mouth, he only worsened after Mystycat died. He was professional, but he couldn’t fake a smile anymore. “Don’t know her. But if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll get out of this cursed place… before things get worse.”
He left the Hemlocke estate soon after.
Mandy would smile at you- a gentle, motherly smile that could make the ice melt in the middle of winter. “I’d offer you some food, but we can’t do that without permission.” She’d explain with a glimmer in her eyes. “Ivory is a quick learner in the kitchen- and a sweet thing. She’s a wonderful addition to the staff.”
Div would most certainly be nearby, too, wary of your presence but muttering along the lines of “She’s fine.” And “Should we tell Zombie about this?”
You’d get the feeling if she ever had a complaint, she’d never tell. Div, on the other hand, causes you to move on in your investigation. There were different tactics you were trained to use- but Div wasn’t a suspect, and he’d be a tough nut to crack. So you don’t.
Of course- Kantje and Ross would be working in the gardens together, more attentive to their work than to idle gossip. “Ivory? She doesn’t talk much at meals, but she pulls her weight..”
“I’ve heard she plays the old piano in the basement- the one Miss Hemlocke used to play.”
Despite that, you wouldn’t miss how Kantje’s eyes held a grief that went unspoken. There was a tenseness to his frame that didn’t match the grief of a man mourning a coworker, either.
(His father is his hospitalized. But you look at Ivory, her scars and tail and suspicious past, and figure there’s something deeper there.)
For Serapter, this would be one of the moments where his mask doesn’t get in the way of emoting. His eyes would have a shine to them as he’d explain about how “he cares about Ivory, but she’s a good person who truly cares for all of the staff despite what people think.” Or maybe his lip would curl in displeasure behind the mask, his eyes squinting in displeasure as he made it clear that whatever bad notion you have of Ivory, dismiss it.
And you’d get off the premises before Ivory could properly spot you. Before an Ivory looking towards the Usherwoods- thick foliage and stormy days covering paths, and find you.
Your name is Bormethius.
Ivory softly exhales as she walks alongside the detective. Her breathing is as quiet as her footsteps— for she had learned long ago that the world had no place for someone like her, and made herself small to fit.
“M—Mister Bormethius.—…” She tilts her head. Few know of her blind spot, but Bormethius being on her scarred side makes her internally squirm. And just about physically squirm, too.
“W-.. Why aren’t we at the police station?”
The woods were normally a blissful quiet for her ears - and if she was lucky, maybe she’d catch humming- but today, it felt ominous. Foreboding. The dreadful feeling in her gut tightens as the detective’s eyes zero in on her, a false friendliness to them.
(Ivory had been like that, once. Hostile and threatening and willing to hurt everything in her way. She vowed to never be like that again.)
But seeing the anger in his eyes, Ivory wonders if she’ll break that vow.
Bormethius’ jaw tightens, his smile feeling just enough off to set off alarm bells within Ivory’s head. He steps forward, and opens his mouth. A single, damning word- one that she expected.
“Confess.”
Ah.
Ivory’s shoulders sink, nerves gone and her body going near limp.
So that was it.
“Confess.” Bormethius repeats, bitter and angry just like the Ivory before Minutetech found her in the woods.
His smile stays for now, despite the inferno of emotions raging underneath autumn kissed skin.
“All you need to do is confess. Because I know you killed Mystycat.” His eyes are like steel as he clenches a fist, the only hint to his breaking composure. If she were the hostile person she used to be, Ivory knew how to wind him up—
Ivory knew how to do terrible things. She still knows. And Ivory knew he full heartedly believed she. She knew the only answer he’d accept.
“I— I didn’t.” She stutters anyway, because she’s anxious and flustered and cantthinkdontwanttoreturn. “I didn’t kill her! When— how?—“
“BE HONEST! JUST CONFESS! WHY WON’T YOU CONFESS ALREADY?!—-“
All that could be heard was her screams and cries as the first punch swung. And then the second. White hot pain shot across her side, her face — and blood pours down her skin like water droplets as she claws at her attacker.
It doesn’t help. Bormethius hovers over her, pressing his knee’s weight into her fragile body.
By the time he slams her head against a rock, Ivory stops paying attention to his words. She feels like a doll- limp and broken, to be played with. Maybe a long time ago, she could’ve summoned forth wrath and pain and fiery anger, and fought back, but right now—…
All she can do is sob.
“S-stop-“ Her face twists into something ugly, something desperate. Blood is everywhere. “STOP!—-“
“She’s… emotionally stunted. Something bad happened in the past. It doesn’t help I found her in the woods….” Ivory knows she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she feels her throat hitch in her chest regardless. There’s a pause for several minutes- but she can envision it in her brain. Minutetech, who she owed so much to, standing in front of Clownpierce.
He’s probably looking at the polished office while Clownpierce marks down his papers. Or maybe he’s surveying his boss’ family friend sharply, trying to determine a good hire over a bad one.
“I see.” Clownpierce calls out, and Ivory hears a pen being sat down on a wooden desk. She’s quick to turn around, and scurry down the hall- for she could sense the conversation was coming to a close and didn’t want to get in trouble before she was even officially hired.
(Little did she know, that the war veteran knew she was there.)
Her entire body is in pain, broken fingers limply twitching as Ivory stares at the gray skies above. Maybe if she stares at the clouds hard enough and drifts away, she can avoid the cold reality of Bormethius leering over her with bloodstained fists. She can’t understand the hatred in his eyes. Not anymore. Maybe she never did.
A whimper tears through her throat, and she cringes- her blood soaked face peering up with tears running down both eyes. Ivory didn’t even know her blind, scarred eye could still cry. “‘m sorry.” She babbles.
Bormethius fist stops midair.
“For killing Mystycat.” He sounds far too happy, far too gleeful— not a sadistic man, but one who genuinely believes he was going to lock up a murderer. Justice incarnate who was staring at a bloodied, broken young woman. He’d call it law and order, authority being dealt.
Distantly, Ivory thinks Pyroscythe would call this savagery.
“Nn—-o—“
When his smile fades and his fist curves downwards, Ivory sees red - a blinding pure red that barely hid the salt of her tears.
She’s become the monster again.
Teeth meet warm flesh, and before Ivory knows of her hands are tearing at cloth as she tries to get a leverage over the detective - head butting the main as he recoils.
“AHHHHFFUUUCK!—“
Blood that isn’t her own trickles down her mouth. Her hands dig into the detective’s shirt as she tears at flesh like paper, exposing muscle and skin to the crisp air.
She hadn’t killed Mystycat.
She would kill Bormethius.
She would make him regret shattering her bones like fragile china.
Another whimper tears through her throat- and she cries, soaked in blood. She cries as she continues to bite and scratch, hot tears mixing in with the blood and snot.
The flesh and blood of the detective is in between her teeth. Her own blood is all over her body, and her head.
(She’d make him feel the pain she felt. Every fraction.)
“FFuck get off me! GET OFF ME!” Bormethius screams as teeth sink into his ear and rip— a pained, guttural gasp following as Ivory rips it off. The screams only get louder. Her head feels fuzzy.
He begs.
But she begged and no one listened.
So Ivory simply offers a pained smile, sharp teeth twisted into intent— and digs a finger into the gaping hole where his ear was. Like a lover’s kiss, her teeth tear through his jugular—-
And everything becomes nothing but a distant, wonderful dream.
“Ivory!”
Vision blurry. Body hurt. Hands and mouth red.
“IV-OH GOD!—“ Hands a mouth that cry when she flinched, and her own hazy eyes glancing into nothing as she’s guided … somewhere. Her mind is wonderfully distant, listening to the humming of voices and several footsteps. Some high pitched, some low. It’s a wonderful buzz that has her smiling sleepily.
Sleep sounded good right now.
“Stay awake, Ivory!— stay awake!”
She feels a light thud against her cheek. She cracks open her good eye.
Oh.
Pyroscythe is standing in the doorway, his eyes red and teary. His entire body is shaking. At her side is Loppezz, her normal happy smile turned weary.
“Master Pyroscythe,” Loppezz’s tone is gentle. The older woman is running a hand through her hair, and it feels nice. Ivory has no energy to resist, leaning into the touch as her tail swishes happily and her eyes close.
“It’d be indecent for you to be here any longer. Please wait for the doctor.”
The door closes- and Ivory almost thinks she’s heard a sob for a second, when she hears Loppezz physically turn, shoes clacking against the… tiled floor?
This wasn’t the servants’ showers. Snapping her other eye open, Ivory —
“Are you back?” Ivory is sitting in a bathtub, still in blood soaked clothes. Only Master Zombie and his family had bathtubs, and if Pyro was here, then that means….
“I… think so.” She rolls her head against the bathtub, staring up at Loppezz. Ivory thinks she looks awfully sad. “Why are you crying?”
A wounded sound follows.
“Sw…sweetheart.” And oh, that’s a new one. Ivory just smiles as Loppezz takes a deep breath, and continues. “I’m going to help you wash up, and the doctor is going to check you out.”
Ivory can see it on the tip of her tongue— the ‘what happened?’ Or ‘why could you do this?’
For a moment, Ivory wishes she killed Mystycat. Maybe, then, the violence and hurt could be justified. But there was no justice, and there was only pain to be found.
But in the end, Loppezz says nothing. Any care and concern go into her actions as she tenderly strips Ivory of her blood soaked outfit - and a soft gasp follows as she beholds Ivory’s scarred body.
She… knows it’s bad. And she can already imagine the judgmental looks- she was a demon, after all, and she was still suspicious to most. Bormethius, despite everything, had planted the seed of distrust within the staff. It made sense— a day after a new hire with a suspicious background, the servant to the heir of the estate dies. It’s suspicious. The timing is suspicious. All of it is suspicious.
Ivory would blame herself too, if she didn’t know any better. And she, too, would think that this demon was nothing good- with a scarred body like that. A monster was all she was.
But that isn’t what happened.
Loppezz gasps, her expression one of .. sympathy? Ivory isn’t sure of that, but the mournful cry that followed was unmistakable. It was uncanny to not hear from her own lips.
“That’s.. something’s broken, sweetheart. And there’s so much blood. Let’s get you washed off.”
… What?
Ivory feels her eyes squint in confusion, as swollen as they are, but tilts her head back anyway. She closes her eyes, allowing herself to soak in the sensation of being loved. It isn’t long before she feels a damp, soft cloth across her body- and she knows if she opened her eyes, she’d see that Loppezz was cleaning her off of the blood, and tenderly cleaning the raw, scarred flesh underneath. She’d see the blood mix with the water and the drain be pulled- and she’d see herself cry as her hair was washed like the mother she never had.
But she doesn’t. She stays within the dark, her eyes closed to the world - and what is and isn’t.
She vaguely registers a door halfway turning and murmuring. Loppezz’s talking to someone, she thinks?
Her head feels like it’s drowning.
“Ivory, sweetheart, you’ll need to get dressed in a clean outfit. Seraptor has dropped one off. After that, you’ll stay in the infirmary. Is.. that alright?”
Ivory hummed in response, trying to soften her smile. Less teeth. She sees Loppezz wince, face twisting into a expression that did not suit her at all.
Ivory wasn’t sure whether to call it surprise or pity. She wasn’t good with expressions.
“Please …. Let me brush your teeth.”
Ivory lets a slow nod follow, and Loppezz leaves the room. Ivory can hardly think, or speak, or think at all— pale red eyes staring into green wallpaper dimly.
It’s nice.
To not think.
And suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder - and she startles, looking up at Loppezz’s smiling face. There’s a sadness to it. She’s holding a toothbrush and toothpaste that was way too high quality for the servants’ use.
Ivory squints. It must properly convey her confusion because Loppezz’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape and she suddenly brightens. “I ran into Master Pyroscythe and Master Zam, and they let me use some of their supply-.. truly, I’m grateful. Now sit down— and oh, you haven’t left the tub— okay, hold on..”
Gentle hands roam as Ivory feels another towel wash off the water that clung to her like a second skin. It makes her want to cry, the care and softness that she wasn’t accustomed to.
Tears roll down her cheeks..
“I know.. it’s alright, Ivory. It’s alright.”
The towel is discarded, and Ivory closes her eyes. She feels those same warm hands—
Pause.
“Ivory, you need to open your eyes.”
She whines- a squeaky, pitiful thing.
“I know it hurts… but you have to get dressed. The doctor will give you medicine.”
JUST CONFESS.
Her eyes snap wide open, and she stutters- but there’s no woods or fallen leaves or bloodied stones. There is no pain to be found, this time, only softness.
That is, until she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Even with her scars, she almost doesn’t recognize herself at first- her skin mottled and bruised, bones snapped out of place, and …
Bloody teeth. Far too bloody for it to just be dental damage.
Ivory flinches. Limply, she does not resist as Loppezz helps her into her nightwear, and wraps crude bandages around her.
“It’s nothing professional, but it’ll last until the doctor gets here.” Loppezz explains, as if every tightening of a bandage doesn’t increase her security further. Something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Ivory hums, and weakly stutters.
“T— thank you.”
If this surprises Loppezz, she doesn’t say anything- though her smile remains.
(Ivory fails to notice the wobbling of her lip and the way she blinked away more tears.)
“Now… let’s get your teeth clean. Open wide.”
Ivory obeys. She opens her mouth, and for a moment when Loppezz feels around in her mouth, Ivory wonders if she’ll pull. But the older woman doesn’t.
“Nothing looks damaged..” She murmured. “Okay..” Loppezz straightens up, and would’ve began to brush Ivory’s teeth. The brush was stained red within seconds- and it made Ivory’s stomach do flips and rolls. She was sure the disgust on her face showed.
“Ivory…” Loppezz was too kind. Too motherly.
Too pure for a monster like her.
“Who did this to you?”
And the waterworks pour. Ugly, hiccuping sobs from a broken body and a marred face - her hands shaking violently and her vision going blurry.
And in the end, there’s only one thing she can say.
“Bo—Bormethius! He— we drove to the woods and he-“ She was normally touch averse, but Ivory still found herself ugly sobbing in Loppezz’s chest. “He—- yelled at me and—- hit me and—“
Her own cries become like fuzz to her ears, but she can feel Loppezz patting her hair and stroking her horns. It feels nice. She rambles— raving.
She can’t stop herself.
“I—- dddidntmeanto—“ Her broken fingers clutch at the older maid’s dress. “H—He was gonna kill me.”
Her wails eventually die- her sniffles and tears being wiped away by a gentle, worn hand.
“It’ll be okay.” Loppezz soothed. “It’ll be okay…”
The older woman picked up on a crack in the doorway, and she turns her head, squinting. It was Pyroscythe, and Serapter.
‘Detective. Woods.’ Loppezz mouths, and that’s all the confirmation they need. Pyroscythe stiffens, guilt and remorse and wrath. Serapter, meanwhile, holds a biblical fury that not even his sun-like mask could hide.
They’re Ivory’s boys. They’ll take care of this.
“Let’s get you to the infirmary, now.”
“So we’re going to kill him, right?” Serapter echoes to his following companion- Bit. Pyroscythe had merely looked at him with a cold fury, muttering about “as much as he’d like to kill the asshole, his presence would be missed. Break his arms for me.”
So— Serapter was here with Bit, who was looking around with half wariness. “I don’t know, I — don’t want to get tried for murder.” He’d murmur, eyebrows furrowing.
“And you’ll let him get away with assault? Or worse?”
Bit flinched. “Th— that’s not what I—— oh. Oh fuck.” She’d hiss through clenched teeth. Serapter found himself still, and the sight he saw was not something even he could hide.
Revulsion.
Horror.
What was clearly the now deceased detective’s remains… are scattered all around the forest clearing. His car is still parked nearby, the keys god knows where, but Serapter is pretty sure he sees a torn out arm and a half squished eyeball.
“Ohhhfuuuck—..” Bit throws up. Serapter politely averts his gaze. “Well, that saves us the job…” His tone wasn’t cheerful, and the glare Bit immediately shot him was like hellfire.
“The fuck do you mean!?!—“
“Look— I.. Master Pyroscythe wants this covered up anyway? And I promised to protect Ivory. This… Is just protecting her. Okay? So…”
He decides to do something very brave. Because he told Ivory he’d protect her and beat up for the — and he had failed her in both regards. The least he could do was this.
“Let’s bury him under the shed, and not tell a soul. Promise me you won’t.”
“What?” Bit looks as nauseous and pained as Serapter felt when he saw Ivory. “He’s a fucking police detective, incase you forgot Serapter! If we get caught!—-“
“We won’t.” Serapter says. It’s a vow. A promise. For her. Always for her. His roommate. His friend. For the sweet girl who already went through too much. “So help me out here, damnit!”
He failed her. So bad. He can feel the hot, frustrated and mournful tears from behind his mask.
“… I promise…” Bit stiffens, uncomfortable. Serapter has stopped giving a fuck.
It’s … not so quick work of the body, unfortunately. The parts are scattered throughout the clearing and Bit is squeamish of the murder scene. But still, the two would’ve packed the body up- rolling the parts into the trunk of the detective’s car. The keys are still in the engine.
He wasn’t going to leave Ivory alive. He’s sure if it. It’s what he deserves.
(Or maybe it was his mind trying to wrap around a brutal assault and one grisly murder after the other.)
Hand in hand, Bit and Serapter stop by the old abandoned shed- it’s a wonder it hasn’t been taken down or detonated yet. But for Serapter, it’s perfect. Retrieving a shovel from the dusty shed, he digs and digs— and like clockwork, the body parts are scattered throughout the hole and covered by more dirt.
They had already lost Mystycat. Serapter knew even Bit wouldn’t mourn goddamn fucking Bormethius despite the atrocity and imbalance of the crimes committed today.
But Serapter didn’t feel the biblical, righteous fury spoken of in the texts. He felt hollow and angry and broken.
All of that, and for what?
Nothing.
Nothing but senseless violence.
Still, Ivory was alive. Without a doubt forever changed, but alive. And as the tears fell, Seraptor vowed to do better.