Devil Council [Algos/Mat]

The glaring light of the afternoon sun reflected down on the burning earth of Demon World. With nothing but crimson sands spreading in every direction, the simmering heat of this place would make weaker demons quiver and high-tail it out of here. In spite of this obnoxious heat, the Princess of Demon World walked alone for dozens of miles as her own scarlet tears continued to flow down her face.

She would never let her enemies, allies, or those in Shadow Fall and the royal family see her like this after the year she had.

Still -- there was so much pain in her heart.

Ulv, a person who was close to becoming something of a lover and mother to her children, was going to die soon. Her own sister disbanded from her family that she gave everything for, her spiritual sister was on the verge of death, her child was kidnapped, Demon World in Chaos, and her whole family hated her. All of these actions and failures were mounting on her heart and it hurt to be so alone and hated as she still clung to her power in the demon world.

That's right -- power.

Power is the only reason these scum have not taken her life or imprisoned her. This great cluster of suffering in her heart only made the woman's contempt, strength, and resolve to endure this existence's unlimited forms of torment all the more potent. In this way, a deathly groan bled out of the woman's heart as an eruption of blackened energy darkened the sky and bled acidic rains down upon the blood sands. This was her place to mourn, sob and cry her soul out without bringing down the perception of demons on her.

So much weight, so much responsibility; she wanted to do Neoveta justice, but it turns out she was just turning into a bigger mess than even her mother.

"Ah, maybe I'm not as great as I think I am...."

In those hurt words, the woman fell to her knees; scarlet tears still dripping to the now blackened earth as this dense, chaotic, and foul energy spread out throughout the lands.

Still -- was there someone she could turn to? Perhaps. Memories of a man that even her mother found council in her times of trouble crept into her mind. The Princess did recall being advised by her mother to seek him out if there should ever be a time in her rule that things were dark and she was uncertain of where to turn.

That man -- that man was Mat The Devourer. A creature nearly as old as her own father: Deveta.

With this burning thought in her mind, Algos knew that since she had her mother's extract in her that she too was linked to this man. So, through that connection, she'd send a telepathic impulse to the man and took a shot in the dark to share her coordinates with him so that he may give her his advice on this blackened circumstance she was.

"I...am prideful demon. I...am strong of will. But please, I need someone to help me. I put aside that pride to ask for your help..."

The flames of change seemed to burn brightly, all consuming in their destruction and rebirth. An endless cycle in which The Devourer has been spectator too. How many demonic empires have risen and fell in his life time? How many demons rose so high to come crashing down unto the planet, shattering into a billion pieces to never be seen again? Far too many to count. Far too many for him to remember every one of their names. But there came times where he could briefly recall the memories of things long since passed, flickers of lights within the immense void of creation.

So you can only imagine the amusement of Mat, a name which he adopted only to hide his true nature, when he felt the call of the almighty Algos. If there was ever a child of his people whom needed his guidance, it was her. A baby in the grand scheme of the world, given power and responsibility far beyond her scope. It was inevitable that she would fail, and fail, and fail. It was almost like fate held a cruel opinion of her, seeking to grind whatever her achievements where to ash before her.

"You wish to have my help?"

The words poured into the demonic realm with a sinister twist, an amusement which seemed to echo throughout the realm. A true devil whom was relishing this unique taste of pain. As the world seemed to become an overwhelming huge mass of demonic energy. The sky darkened as corruption spilled forth from the soil, as the world it's seemed to bend to the will of the elder demon. A hand would emerge out of the darkness, tearing apart space and reality, as a bronze hand would claw it's way into the realm. The aura of Mat filling the world with a putrid aroma, uncaring about its effect upon the world.

A loud breath was taken, sucking in energy and influence. For lesser demons, for those mere fledgling abominations, the power within the air was intoxicating. It was corrupting. It was the most pure form of demonic expression, distilled into a singular man who poured out from the abyss. As a grin adorned his features, teeth fashioned into only the image of a smile. His teeth bloodied and crimson, as if he had just had a meal. Of what, was anyone's guess.

"Oh dear child, what could you possibly require from a being such as myself? Have you not indulged your nature, have you not suffered like we should, have you not tasted the sweet nectar of true utter please?"

The words poured out like water, gliding across his tongue in a way which seemed mocking but was not. Instead it was but his true nature, a demon speaking unto another creature of utter misfortune and pain. For what else where their existence if not agony, what where they if not negativity made incarnate? Given physical form to be the corrupting influence through the world.

Mat would take a few steps towards her, uncaring for his own safety as his hands reached out to her. His hands cupping her face softly, as crimson irises with black sclera stared upon her. A grin so wide upon his face it threatened to almost split his head in two. A sight which would adorn the nightmares of many men, women, and truly stared upon her. But yet, as he gripped her face there was nothing but overwhelming warmth and affection. As if no matter what she has done, what she had did, this man would take care of them. That he, himself, would always be here solely for her.

What was a father, if not, attentive, to their children in their time of need?

"O' speak unto me, my dear Algos, what I could do for you. Speak it, cry it, rip it from your lungs."

In the air around Algos, nothing but turmoil for the few moments prior to Mat's arrival. Then, when he did arrive, there was a light and the demoness felt at ease having someone else intrude upon this remote suffering. The colossal weight of the woman's actions, sins, and hellish blood that was smeared against the depths of her soul was becoming like ropes ready to slit her throat clean off. So, in a way, Algos accepted that this was the natural course of events. Nothing could forever stay high, right? Hence, the woman rose to her feet and stared at the visage of the smiling, bronze man before echoing out in a weary voice.

"There is such a saying that you can have too much of a good thing. I've long since passed that point of intoxication and entered into the false-paradise of an alcoholic's hell on this drink called suffering that my nature loves so much."

While honest words flowed from the woman's mouth, at this moment, she just wanted to hold someone and reverted back to the essence of Neoveta within her that was just reaching out for someone, anyone, to hold and care for. Many saw this demon as a father-figure to their kind, but Algos's blood eyes only saw someone who wanted to help their kind and it is that essence which the former-incarnation of her saught.

"Where do I go from here? My child is in a foreign land possessed by the spirit of an enemy that I'm forced to love, my lover of my children is on death's door at any moment, my sister left me because of my actions, my family's patience is wearing thin, the weight of our wars is apparent on this world and I'm left feeling as if I've failed as a Princess and let myself become a copy of a mother."

Body shaking from the stress, strain, and hell of this reality; Algos only longed to go back to the uncorrupted vessel of love she was Neoveta. Or, to go further back and spend her time in paradise with her beloved Pseu and be that clingy sister just grasping at her kins love. Instead, she was standing in this cold world of consequence. Her soul and body knew this is what her karma was bringing and it hurt to face the sum result of these decisions in her descent into the Asthavon curse of madness.

"Every fiber of being is screaming to destroy and kill my sister as if I don't, I'll lose Pseu to the person who wants nothing to do with me. Yet, if I do that, I'll further lose my credibility as a Princess of this world and further chaos would ensue in my family."

Pausing for a moment, the woman's deadened eyes looked back up at Mat before grasping at his cheek with the utmost of woe behind her eye.

"I just...want to be a good royal. It wasn't supposed to be like this. At my death, I was supposed to do everything Neoveta couldn't and I've only made her life worse and ruined what was once a pure being."

Now moving closer to his face, the woman asked one more time:

"What do I do? I loathe asking for help as it goes against my pride, but it's apparent if I keep on this path nothing but ruin awaits..."