6 posts in this topic

Aglaya's eyes opened so slow. Her head threw itself into an immediate throb and she was curled up into herself, tears falling like someone had come into the room and verbally assaulted her. She let out rough, pained cries as she flinched and moaned as the pains grew deeper, tighter, harsher, wider until her eyes shot open and she was staring wide eyed at her bedroom door. Her breath was heavy, labored with a moist brow and neck. What had happened?

 

Slowly she sat up in her bed, gathering herself and sliding her feet to the floor to find a pair of panda bear slippers. Placing her feet in them she stared at the fluffy white and black creatures for a moment before looking up at her door. The sensation she had had the moment before truly waking up was terrifying. A void of that kind of pain and agony forced her head to turn a little and close her eyes. Had it been a dream or a true migraine of the devils doing?

 

She did not dismiss the random occurrence of such a pain among her head. Standing from her bed she scooted her left and right feet across the wooden floor to her bedroom door and opened it to view a whole other world. A bedroom with soft walls, more feminine touch, to a messy, cluttered and dysfunctional room that she could read like a book. Shuffling through the living area she avoided towers of binders, notebooks, reference books and various other organized piles until she stopped in her little white kitchen. Aglaya lifted a long baggy sweat shirt clothed arm to her eyes and rubbed tenderly until she felt a little more awareness in them.

 

Looking at the little white kitchen she made note of how the grays in it seemed sluggish and lazy compared to many of the other shadows in the kitchen. No lights were on to chase their laziness away, yet. Yawning and stretching as she walked to her cabinet she grabbed a cup and shuffled to the faucet for some water and then dropped a green tea bag into the cup and into the microwave it went!

 

Staring at the speckled layer on the front of her microwave, supposed to help prevent damage to the eyes upon directly staring at the light in the microwave, she watched how her purple and blue glazed cup rotated until the seconds stopped and the handle appeared facing her as she opened the door. Taking the cup she scooted back into her living area, crossed the maze to her balcony and shoved the sliding door open. Walking outside and then closing the door behind her she brought her attention to the city scape above and below her.

 

Aglaya lived on the sixth floor of a thirty floor building. The ants below her darted, paused, scurried and repeated. Her tired hand set the cup of tea down on a small table near by, still watching the busy ants. She brought a small pale hand up to her face and shoved a handful of pitch black hair behind her ear, still quietly observing the ants. “Is this what they think about me, when they look down on me as I travel?†Aglaya said in a soft voice, her heritage barely clinging to her words at this point in her life.

 

 

The dark haired, pale skinned girl darted out of her apartment complex and dove into the city transit bus before its doors closed. She clung to the rail at the left as she went up the two steps and permitted the meter to read her monthly pass ticket. Proceeding to the back of the bus she carved her sight into the floor of the buss. Never permitting her sight to fly back to anyone that might be gazing in on the new passenger. It was awkward enough getting on the bus and being seen by its audience, worsening when they got the time to stare at you as you walked down it.

 

 

 

“Miss Maxim.†The middle aged male voice said drawing the endless stare out of her pale youthful face.

 

“Yes?†Aglaya said startled as her eyes snapped to his mundane existence. He was so boring to listen to dribble on about things that he felt were important, when she could have explained the purpose of the writers direction. Maybe that was why he would drop her grades below the one point they deserved.

 

Despite his quip she fell back into a fantasy a little more dark and artistic than he would have understood or appreciated. Aglaya smiled faintly, to herself and no one else, as her eyes flickered slowly and the light from the window drew her back into the world she had been rudely taken from moments ago.

 

 

“Out, out! Go!†The teacher said exhausted from his lecture.

 

Aglaya looked up sleepily from her continued daze and noted the mass of her classroom flooding through the door. Now was her time to take leave and hide in her sanctuary for the rest of the day. Excitement buzzed in her chest the moment she thought about the thick, large, old crafted wooden doors to her library. Standing up from her seat she fed her class supplies into her bag and threw the long messenger bag style shoulder over her left and hurried out with the tail end of the class.

 

 

She was in the protection and comfort of the library within minuets. A breath inhaling the new and old texts that had always kept her company. There were more interesting and intriguing personalities to keep her fancy in this one room than there were in the world from the day of its creation until the second of her arrival in that very library. All the men in the world and she had their attention, their devotion, their desire to share with her their crafted secrets. The women were always secondary. Research and assistance to the brilliance of man, the men, she respected so highly.

 

Trotting down her usual path she plowed deep into the depths of the library and sprawled out on a table right next to the rounded dome portion of her sanctuary. It was made completely out of glass, permitting all natural light to come in and bathe its readers. Aglaya could never function out of its natural warmth and brilliance, it was a necessity.

 

She spent the remainder of her day, afternoon and into the night in that same spot. Food or drink seemed trivial and hardly a requirement to keep going. Though her focus was shifted when she stood up to go to the bathroom to relieve herself. Another student of the college had taken to interrupt that intended action. Her lower half was pressed up against the table as he barely gave her room to move. Aglaya's back was arched, hands reaching to support herself as she tried so hard to put a distance between him and her. Long black hair piled on the table as concerned blue eyes stared at the face grinning at her.

 

“Eh . . Miss Maxum . . “ He said amused at her startled look.

 

“Ma-Maaxim.†Aglaya corrected.

 

“Whatever. You seem too occupied.†He was amused with his discomfort in her eyes. It was as if he had a thrill driving that emotion in her, taking her and consuming that emotion.

 

“No—I.†A thunderstorm had just started and it began on the roughest front possible. The water from their clouds so heavy it made the building feel weak and much older than it truly was. Its glass clipped, shrieked and shook as stronger angles slammed into it hurriedly. As if the water itself was emulating how quick Agalay's heart was pattering. Thunder rattled the building and her being, there was a pause and then a series of lightning flashes went off. Aglaya's eyes grew wider, her chest stopped its fearful fall and rise as she saw a figure standing outside of the libraries glass. He was just standing there through the several flickers of light, watching her and the student intent on his design with her. Aglaya let out a shriek of total fear when the body vanished and she fell onto the table and started to scoot wildly from the students company. “Did . . there!†Aglaya said terrified as she pointed at the empty space the male figure had been standing.

 

A strange and startled look set on his face as he put a hand on his hip. “No wonder you're still a virgin.†He scoffed as he walked off and left the petrified woman on the table to fend for herself.

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He grinned to himself as he entered the empty halls and began to roam them, a tall figure about as tall as the doors, his shadow accompanying him on the last mile of his long journey. He could feel a jolt running across his spine and spreading to the rest of him. To the best of his abilities, he could only regard this as excitement. But of a different sort. She had been the first thing to ever be like an X on a map that he simply needed to get to. He had questioned why but the answer was so simple it was laughable. And the thought of reaching the X always made him giddy. Now he was just wondering why he didn't choose to come sooner. It was in no way because he was nervous. Well, there are always so many things to do, opportunities that linger for a moment as opposed to a goal that stayed as it was all the time. As long as she was alive he didn't have to worry about hurrying. Time was to him a guillotine that could never run its deadly blade through his neck. But he could use it to behead anyone he wished. It was always funnier that way. 

As he roamed the halls he could see the water he had dragged in. It was from his feet and also dripping from his overcoat. Oh, and his hair. It wasn't too long, just about reaching his neck. On his better days it would be combed but the rain has a way of making your hair look shitty, sadly. He had wanted to look presentable for the occasion. It was a special one after all. Not every day you meet your maker. The thought made him scoff and he could hear it resounding throughout the empty halls. The place seemed desolate, with only her in the library. It would probably be for the best that way. He had seen her before, always alone. She had no family and nobody to talk to her. So someone like him would be a highly questionable individual. Or that's probably what the reports would say. If there would be any. Plus, he doubted she'd want to talk to him. He did have a certain... appearance, that gave a negative, eerie vibe, as he had heard others say. Which is why usually he'd assume a much more concealing and non-threatening appearance. Not tonight however. 

He suddenly escaped the inner sanctum of his thoughts to notice someone passing by. Ah, yes. The one that tried to molest her. He saw it through the window. Ordinarily he wouldn't bother but... Before he could think of a reasonable explanation he felt his long arm reach out, his palm and claw-tipped fingers grab his head. The little man had began kicking and shouting something about letting him go, in between a bunch of vulgarities. This part in people always somehow annoyed him. They could never just go with it. A moment later he realized his claws had already pierced the man's eyes. Did he mean to do that? Eh, probably. He was screaming even more now. Ugh, he should just snap his neck. But, he supposed killing someone would make a worse first impression than simply looking as he did and having gouged someone's eyes out. Someone, mind you, who not too long ago tried to have his way with her. She was frailer than he had imagined. And no different from those humans. How could she be able to give existence to him? The thought that before he came to be he was merely an idea in her head was mind-boggling. And a little irritating. But he discarded the thought as opposed to the idea of what sort of mind could spawn a creature like him. He got more and more excited the more he thought about it.

Oh god, would this piece of trash quiet down? He was becoming too annoying for his own good. He chucked him to the side, making him crash into the nearby wall. It wasn't what he was here for anyway. As he reached a bright light coming from a door he stopped. Perhaps just for now, he thought, as he shrank his proportions down to a more acceptable size for a human. Just in time too. There she was. He couldn't say much aside from smirking and uttering "Good evening, Aglaya Maxim"

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Aglaya froze where she stood. Her posture ridged and tingling with fear and concern. She had heard noises that were never normal for out side the college library at that time. Usually lighter green eyes were now dark and concerned a she looked at the odd stranger in front of her. “I . . . who . . . .†Aglaya caught her lips and pushed them tightly together for a few seconds before they parted again. “Please . . I . . .†Not the words she knew he wanted to hear. She could smell the blood, her hands flew to her lips and pressed tight for a few seconds, her head turning to the side for a second. “What do you want?†She said heavily.

 

"Well, aside from that guy to settle down" he said as he turned back to look at him. He was passed out. Maybe dead? Or soon to be? Hell if he cared. He turned back to her "Which I guess is done, so, what I want, or rather wanted, was to meet you" he said, chuckling.

 

“What?†She said in a fading wheeze. “Why?†Aglaya said as she felt her thighs begin to buckle, her body shifting to the wall for support. What was she suppose to do? Who was he talking about, exactly, as he looked behind him?

 

 

"Well, it's a long story. One which might be a bit hard to explain or comprehend"

 

He had to be kidding. Aglaya clutched the strap of her messenger bag tightly as she looked him over in the bare light of their hall. Her head angled down a little, eyes still perked upward in his height. “Then let me part and we will discuss it later.†Aglaya said quietly, trying to minimalize her fear. “I'll arrange . . . a meeting.†She said hoping he would believe her. Yet, she prayed he would not, then again what was she thinking? What the hell was she saying? A meeting? With -that-?

 

"I'm well aware of what you might be thinking. It's why I assumed a more... human appearance. I would've preferred not to but that would probably have just sent you running away from me. And I'm sorry to say, that's not my intention" he took a step to the side "I will accompany you. And believe me when I say, I have no desire to harm you. That would defeat the purpose of me coming to find you after all" he smirked.

 

She still hugged the wall, much tighter than before. Her head shook slowly. He could not know her thought like that. There was no one to know such a thing. More human? Her eyes shattered with silent tears. How she was not running now, oh wait fear. Damned fear had her paralyzed in place. “If it wasn't . . . then why have you conveyed that in me regardless?†She dared to ask the stranger. “Accompany me where?â€

 

"To wherever it is you choose. And as for why I conveyed this to you, well, I suppose I'm in a truthful mood. So to speak. It's not every day one meets their maker after all"

 

At the level of tremble she felt through out her being it was possible she could have simply collapsed there, out cold and he could have done away with her then and there. Or maybe after he had done whatever his true artistic intentions were for her. Though Aglaya felt a hint of truth, which was astoundingly odd in something and someone with his odd persona. He would let her choose where they went, it almost scared her yet was the only set of words he spoke that was comforting to her. Why he kept repeating meet their maker still threw her to the side, however. “Fine.†Aglaya said as she managed to put one foot in front of the other.

 

Slowly she made her way down the hall, following the thunderstorm lit path with out much issue. When they exited the building it had been reduced to an acceptable trickle. Walking silently, quickly she felt her chest heave in anticipation of a more sinister action from him, though she received none so far it was bound to happen. It absolutely had to, so she was convinced.

 

Their direction was only a block and a half away. She took him to a simple, popular, midnight cafe a ways from the college. Classic red checkered designs, almost an old time feel with useless art hung in an attempt to have some kind of insight to those that visited. Aglaya was in a booth seat, her messenger bag clutched tightly in her palms as her unique visitor sat down smoothly across from her. She wanted to scream, call out to someone to save her. Who had ever listened when she had? No one. Why now, would they listen? He was meeting his creator after all.

 

“What can I get you two?†A waitress said so cozy like to the two, assuming she was serving a couple.

 

“Green tea.†Aglaya said quickly. “He'll have a water. No lemon.†She insisted to send the woman away. Their waitress was back shortly, though it felt like two life times done three times, with their drinks and left promptly. “Start talking.†Aglaya said feeling the anxiety destroying her in slow increments.

 

He took a sip from his water "I suppose I should. My name is Chort. Or rather, that's the name you gave me. Maybe you remember me. One of your earlier works, I believe."

 

She stared at him, ignoring her drink, her eyes fixed on him still in concern. “Anyone can have that name. And why would you even bring up work, how do you even know I have any work of any kind in which to reference someone named Chort?†She said quickly, the ability to shoot down his accusation made her feel more vulnerable and more enabling for him to drive in more home shots than the few he had brought up. However, he could be one of the many with the same name. Despite how unique it was among Americans here.

 

"The name shouldn't be that common. After all, it's not American. Or English for that matter. It's Russian. I'm sure you remember. It is after all your homeland" he continued "You write. Your characters come to life. You have that power. It is the power of a god but it is real. And I am one of your earlier... darker creations"

 

Aglaya shook her head at him a little. A fearful smile on her lips. “Cleaver men exist. I know this.†She told him quietly, her body trembled from time to time. “So my name is simple enough to claim my own heritage. So what.†She said feeling fear and threat wrap tightly around her chest, almost denying her the deep breaths she desired so badly. “That can't happen. It doesn't happen.†He had her terrified, her eyes shifted around the cafe in several laps. She oddly felt more threatened by those around her than him at this point. Like they were all in on his crafted moment.

 

With out any further communication to him she yanked out enough cash to tip their lady and pay for her drink. “We're leaving.†She said still baffled by what he had said. There was explanation warranted and it was not going to be delivered here. Aglaya was so fearful of what and who he truly was. But if this was the past finding a reason to absorb her back into his world, she would at least end it privately rather than under the eyes of those in the cafe.

 

Leaving the cafe she felt him hardly a step behind her as they walked to the curb. She kept her eyes far from his figure and focused on the empty street. Why he knew Chort upset her. How he knew how to act like him, terrified her. She knew Chort, he knew him, claimed he was him. If he was him then there was quite the possibility her direction was more acceptable than a cafe. A taxi zipped up to the couple and quickly drew them in, Aglaya pressed tightly to the far side of the cafe. She recited the address for her thirty floor apartment and before she was ready the driver had delivered them. Again she paid and scurried out of the cab, praying Chort might somehow find lack of interest in her lower paying rise, the heavy weather returning or even her unnerved behavior.

 

She came up to the doors and turned over her shoulder to see him following with out a concern for the weather doubling up as it had been before. Anxiety began filling her chest as they entered her apartments complex and found the elevator. His presence inside it was suffocating to her. How she was going to manage a word to him in her apartment was beyond her. Though at least she would have the familiar smell of papers and ink in her nostrils.

 

Their floor clicked and she was quickly to her door, 608. The key was inside, twisted and they were inside within seconds. She closed the door, locked it and began shedding her traveling clothing for the day. Her messenger bag thrown carelessly to the side of the couch and her feet pulling at the slightly wedged boots she had been wearing all day.

 

Flipping on several lamps she then fell into the center of her couch, her hands grasping her knees for much needed support as she tried to gather up a new strength to handle what he had to say. “I want to know why you would think I would believe your story. I'm not stupid.†She said with a slight turn of her head. “I know many read what is produced by me. But what does it bring you pretending to be one of the oldest works I've never produced?†She said as tears began to fall down her cheeks. “How could you know about him and what he does because he can?†Her head snapped up at him, lashes flickering tears as she batted them widely to look at him in his entirety.

 

"I suppose this is a reasonable question" he grinned "And I can give you the answer. For one thing, you took me to your home. And another thing, is what I will show you now" with that he took off his coat and began to change, his arms becoming longer with claws on the tip, his skin turned black and two horns sprouted from his forehead then bent backwards. His teeth became sharp fangs, his jaw big, with a split sharp chin, his legs became bent like a goat's but with claws instead of hooves while a tail was showing from behind "Now, do you believe me?"

 

Aglaya nearly went limp to the point of not being able to sit even slightly, as she had fallen against the couch long ways partially. His design was far too perfect and his name and, and, and she wished dreams were fake sometimes. He was real, she was looking at Chort. Chort was damn well real and her legs were humming with terror. “How . . how . . .†Her lips could not make the words. She had to find out, but, if, it did not matter it was one end or a new beginning. Something was a release or a damned seal on her life like everything else.

 

Somehow there was strength in her, courage, terror providing courage. Hell if she knew what made her, ah curiosity, that damned curiosity. She was on her unstable feet walking the short distance where he stood across her growing piles on the coffee table, walking to his . . side? Aglaya dumbly reached out, her chest heaving and exploding with her breasts a little more noticeable against the soft thin fabric of her t-shirt, to touch his face and feel the sharpness of his jawline. “You're so real.†She shuddered, still trembling so close to him. His breath felt real, too. “How are you so real Chort? How could you be alive like this? You're just a dark, happy design of something I can't . . .†She choked as her fingers seemed unable to leave his strange figure.

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He chuckled "I am. And I'm so glad to be what you made me out to be. Initially I was just following my story. But then I looked around. And I saw. I started to think. And later. I realized I was created. And that I didn't belong in this world. A world where monsters and demons and angels don't exist. But you did. A human with the power to make me real. I guess you can say you're my fairy godmother. Once I learned that it was you, I made it my mission to find you" his hand reached up, his finger gently holding her chin "I was so intrigued. What a mind would make a nightmare like me. And I just kept digging and digging. Found so much about you but" he let his hand down "It wasn't enough. There so much difference between knowing about a person and knowing them in person. The latter always better than the former. Heheheheheheheeee...." he took a deep breath "And here I am. Monster among men. So I must thank you. With all my heart and the foul blood that courses through it. It's good to be alive!" he burst into a mad laughter. Once he settled down he fell on all fours and began to circle around her "So, tell me all about yourself. I want to know everything firsthand. Who are you, what are you and why are you" his eyes, a cold glistening green were pinned on her like arrows on a target. 

 

Chort was so real and alive. An image from a dark memory and design, and real. Her fingers had touched him and he had touched her just the same. He wanted to know so much, curling like a curious dog and child. Where to begin? "And yet I still have questions for you." She murmured. "I'm just, me. A human." What he wanted answered in regards to something more unique.  There were none to give. Aglaya sat down on the floor and drew herself closer. "I don't even know what to say. I just write about things, people,  creatures . . ."

 

"This I know. But surely there's more. Your life. It's like staring at a void. Like so many I've seen. You're so ordinary and yet..." he sat down on his legs "Looking at you is making my spine stand on edge. No wonder you draw people in. And yet you have nobody. I've watched you from afar. You're alone. It would be a shame to  kill you. Even if it would be so easy all the same"

 

Aglaya stared at him stunned. "I don't know what to say. I truly don't. I dreamt of a time where all I wanted was to do horrid things. And I . .you are right,  I have no one. And I dearly desired one then. You were companion to the lead lady in the story. She was able to love you, and you her. No matter what, you both were there to help the other. Never alone, unlike me." A glad a gave a soft miffed laugh. "I have wanted to die for a long time, you would be granting me a service."

 

"Hmmm" his claws opened up as he held them around her head, not touching but just barely "It would be easy. But I'm afraid I won't. I never had the intention to kill you. Or court you for that matter. I'm free from the story. I do what I want. And what I want is to have fun. But you should know the sort of fun I like to have. I've had so much already but it's just not enough. It never will be either"

 

She closed her eyes and inhales a single breath. "And once I finally satisfy your information need, you will disappear from me, won't you?" Aglaya said already feeling that empty, alone feeling come back despite Chorts company.

 

"Perhaps. I have no purpose in your life. I live to torture and kill. I'll leave you alone simply because you're my creator. And honestly, if you actually want the company of a demon you really must be desperate" he snickered "I was born because of the dark desires in you. If you wanted me to kill or torture someone I would do it in a heartbeat however. It's what I do best after all. And I love my job, suffice to say"

 

Her shoulders dropped a little. A creation all her own and he was talking her down, depressing. "I couldn't ask for someone's death." Aglaya said quietly as she stood up and walked straight into her bedroom. "Do what you want, and I know you do. You must be ashamed of what I am then. Something which is dark and wanted death cannot even ask her creation to do her bidding. Perhaps you seek a master creator above my own." And with that she disappeared into the darkness of her bedroom and curled up in the remaining comfort it offered.

 

He frowned "Quite pathetic. People would literally kill for a chance to have me do whatever their little hearts desired. And they have" he chuckled "They I killed them. It was fun. I always loved games. And when humans willingly play them with me" he talked to himself as his body regained its semi-human appearance. He walked over to the couch and sat down "Well the night is still young. A lot to do. And I still have so much to learn from you. Your story, what has been written. And maybe, just maybe, what is yet to be. I have eternity after all. And stories are always fun. Especially when you help write them at least" at this point he wasn't talking to anyone in particular and instead just rambling. But he honestly wasn't angry. He didn't care too much to begin with.

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Aglaya's eyes parted and she viewed the same slightly feminine room with indifference. Grimacing she recalled the rough night before and began to wonder if it was possibly a lie she had devised for herself as a means of a new way to distract herself from what she truly wanted to do in the world.

 

 

She slid out of bed and opened her bedroom door like she did every morning. There was nothing special on the other side. No one and not a thing out of place in the living area. Holding her left arm with her right she peered deeper into each part of her kitchen looking for what was suppose to be there, though it was not.

 

Not sure if she should be content with the creation missing she pulled out a ceramic cup, added a green tea bag and then pushed it in the microwave. Once it beeped she crossed the distance between the kitchen to her balcony and stared at the ants as the tea cooled. Something about the special memory it had left her suggested strongly he was indeed not just a dark memory she had invented for herself. Then again damaged people always seemed to have that little quirk about them. Maybe her's was simply coming out a little later in life, or super early.

 

Dressed and ready for school she headed down her usual route, took the usual public transit and stepped off at her usual time on campus. Her hand clung to the strap of her messenger bag while she stared at the entirety of her college campus. What was she hoping to pick out among the many humans she saw passing her by? Did she truly wish to see it again? Or was she afraid, confused, intrigued?

 

Glancing down at her watch she noted her limited amount of time to reach her first class. Picking up one foot and placing it in front of the other she made for class. Not sure if she was being watched or finally she was watching other people she entered the classroom and situated herself in a comfortable place near the teacher's speaking spot of habit and away from the rest of the student body.

 

Her eyes were darting all over the room still trying to choose if what had happened, had indeed happened. It was when her teacher entered the room and closed the door and spoke his first few words she realized it was quite real. A student had been attacked and killed on campus the previous night. No one could identify the attacker and why there might be a motive to kill him. Aglaya's eyes forcefully glued themselves to her notebook, a pen grasped tightly in her hand as she processed the information. He had never said why he had done what he had done. Not precisely, or had it and she had simply forgotten?

 

Class proceeded, her mind wandered nearly the entire time her professor tried to lecture about something she already understood and grasped. It was new material to the rest of the class. She focused on the previous night. The library, Churt, the dinner. How had they not caught a single glimpse of him and or her leaving that night? Had he had the ability to make it as if they had lived in the darkness upon her leaving the library?

 

Looking up Aglaya found her professor watching her as the class had emptied several minuets ago. “Day dreaming again?†He said with an amused smile.

 

“I . . .†Aglaya said not sure how to really respond to what he thought she had been doing. “Yes.†She said going along with it.

 

Collecting her belongings and repeating her ritualistic day she trotted down to the library hall she recalled seeing Chort in the night before. A caution marked area had been set up where the body had been found and police had began their processing of the body. Aglaya stared at it, her mind reciting the angle of the body and how Chort seemed amused at having dismembered him just a tad. Someone brushed past her roughly on their way elsewhere. She remained stationary staring dumbly at the location. It had been real. Chort was real. Or she was developing personalities and that student that had come on to her had, upset her, more than normal.

 

“Sick huh?†A fellow student said as they stopped next to her and commented on the now clean sight that still retained its caution tape.

 

Aglaya looked over at him, eyes slightly confused and transfixed by what she had accepted. “Did they, do they have suspects?â€

 

“No. The cameras saw nothing until after his body magically appeared in the hall.†The student said intrigued by the mystery.

 

“Oh.†Aglaya said quietly as she stepped away from the memory of Chort and into the library. Dropping her bag in her same spot she pulled out her supplies for homework and personal projects. Sitting down she faced the glass she remembered seeing the thunder and lightning present her the first startling glimpse of Chort. Staring at it was not going to reproduce him or that night, she knew and understood that. She needed to know how to to speak with him again, he had left her no form of contact beyond he himself finding her. From the sounds of things.

 

Late into the night Aglaya had fallen asleep on top of her bag, unaware she was the last one in the library again. Just like the night before. What she had been dreaming about dissipated quickly and left her sad, quiet eyes staring at a clear sky night.

 

Gathering her things she exited the library, always watching for a figure that could belong to Chort, though, she knew he would not wander her halls looking like his true self. Feeling slightly disappointed in not having been able to see him she walked out into a courtyard drenched in foliage and other various plants. Sitting down on the bench she stared up into the sky and began to contemplate several other ideas and possibilities.

 

He had given her a kind of ability, something unique even she had not ever considered. Aglaya had designed a demon, and he had come to life. He had gained self awareness. What she wrote had become truth, it happened. Chort was a free functioning entity. It almost terrified her to call herself a goddess of some sort. She was, and she was not. All she admitted to herself was that she wrote many a things. And one of them just so happened to take a breath of life beyond his descriptive words on paper. At that, the idea he existed in had never been typed on the computer and printed. It remained tucked away in a small notebook dedicated to that one universe, the one beautiful, tortured soul of the lady and her companion.

 

Aglaya let her head fall back down to her empty lap and sighed. Where to go about all of this from this point on she was not sure. Though he had made her curious about what he claimed. Aglaya pulled out one of many spiral notebooks she kept with her and flipped it to its few last pages untouched by her ideas. She was afraid to test her theory. If, if he was right. Then, was it . . . possible she could do things to herself? Quickly she snapped the spiral shut and shoved it back into her bag. If she chose that route again it definitely had no means of recovery. Aglaya was terrified to revisit the era of the lady and Chort. Despite Chort finding her first.

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A young man approached her bench. He was average-looking, with curly mid-length black hair and a short prickly beard. Not bothering to say anything, he sat down next to her, spreading his arms on the back of the bench and looking up. 

"You know, a normal body's not so bad. I mean, there's always fun in looking creepy and off. Giving anyone who has the nerve to look at you the cold sweat and the chill down their spine. Turning them to stone if they look you in the eye. I suppose this will do as well. Honestly, it had been too long since I gave myself a little makeover. Thank god I can. And the name will have to go. It really is a bit... impersonal, shall we say. I mean, you're basically calling me a devil. So I was thinking Samael. It sounds so good and frankly, it fits me perfectly. And it's also a unisex name. Which is really really good. I find it hard to admit but you humans and your persisting insistence on morals and equality and individuality and such really help draw out the rotten apples from the orchard. Makes my job so much easier. Of course I do like to play with anyone I can"

He finally looked down at her and without giving her a moment to reply continued "You however are no fun at all. You just mope about all day. And now you're just brooding while looking at the stars. Like you'll find anything from a bunch of flaming balls of gas that are shining light years away from here. But then, without them, what is there? Just void. Cold, dark and empty. Same place I came from. Now that I think about it, maybe it's the same void. I mean you can't see ideas, can you? Only idea anyone's ever been able to see is me. And maybe your other creations. I don't think I've met any of them though. Or maybe I have. Hell if I know"

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