The long beep of the heart monitor, a sickening to the fact Kapri heart had flatlined. Her soul slipped closer to the abyss of Ose's control, as soul weavers frantically tried to knot together the fraying threads of her severed existence. Blood flooded into her mouth, a suction catheter working relentlessly to drain it and the machine's low hum drown out by the chaos that took place as she was quickly wheeled through the hospital. Her charred flesh was quarantined within a shimmering barried that seal it off from the rest of her ravaged body, an attempt to slow down the spread of potential damage as if it was rot.
Jugo, with his knees on either side of her unresponsive body, hovered her, his face contorted with unease as he performed chest compressions on her, his hands trembling as her soul refused to stay within her body every time he lifted up his hand in an attempt to start her heart and keep her spirit in. At the moment, everyone repeatedly tore her soul from the grasp of death, as he slammed his hands upon her with brutality.
The stretcher eventually burst into the surgery room, Jugo vaulted form the bed with his hand never leaving her body was they halt her on to the metal surgical table as they attach different cords against her body. Surgeons, nurses, and alike rushed in right behind them and descended upon her body like a storm. Their hands were a blur to Jugo eyes as they stripped what was left of her uniform from her battered form. Blood continue to fill her mouth, the source of her internal bleeding still a mystery since they were busy trying to get her heart to beat again. Jugo eyes never left Kapri as her soul flickered in and out, the life in her body wavering.
A nurse stepped up, the defibrillator pads in her hands, her red eyes met Jugo's with a mix of urgency. "Clear!" she shouted, her voice piercing above the chaos, causing everyone to move away from Kapri except Jugo.
"Do it," Jugo commanded, obviously not planning to move away knowing full well the risk it could completely sever from her body in the next moment.
The nurse looked uneasy, but she knew there was no time for back and forward. She stepped forward, placing the pads upon her Kapri chest. Kapri body jolted, and arched up, while the shock coursed through Jugo. The searing pain left his vision spinning and his muscles clench tightly, before he slapped himself to stay conscious.
For a moment, her heart sputter to life, the monitoring beeping, and he could feel her heart beating weakly under his fingertips--before it stopped cold again.
"Damn it, her heart stopped again," Jugo heard the surgeons said in frustration behind him. The word biting in to the air, Jugo remained relatively calm as he knew he could only force her to continue to hold on, even if it killed him. If that is his purpose he will fulfill it until the end.
"115, get out of the way!" another reaper barked, the defibrillator charging up behind him again.
"No, I'm fine. Hit it again!" Jugo snapped back, his voice not angry, but unyielding.
"Clear!" The nurse yelled, everyone quickly moved back as the nurse slammed the defibrillator pads onto Kapri's chest again. The jolt that followed felt worse than the last, Jugo fell limp and crashed onto the floor. His back hit the ground hard, his head bouncing off the cold tiles, and blood filled his own mouth as he bit his tongue. Still, he forced his trembling body back up with his muscles locking from the electric surge.
His eyes eyes were hazed, but he could still see her soul began to drift, its light dimming before other reapers rushed in to hold it steady. Jugo yelled, despising his body for trying to give up at a time like this. He launched back onto his feet, as he placed his hand on the chest of her spectral form.
"Wake up, Kaprice!" he bellowed. He slammed her soul back into her body, the force of his will to keep her alive driving his hand so heard he heard the cracking of her sternum. The noise sliced through the voices, through gasps and frantic movements, and in that instant, her eyes flew open.
Jugo was relieved, while Kapri's high pitched scream tore through the room. A raw, guttural sound of agony as the reality of her shattered chest, and being laid bare with some many strange hands and eyes upon her hit her at once. Her arms thrashed wildly, and it took everything in the nurses and reaper to pin her down. Their knuckles white as they gripped her upon the table.
Kapri was alive, barely tether to her life with half mend and bloodstains, but alive--her soul no longer free falling, but screaming and fighting to hold onto a body that was barely hers.
"You're alive," Jugo mattered, before he once again fell and crash onto the ground.
"Get 115 out of the way," someone demanded, and he felt a couple of hands grabbed him by the arm as he was led out of the room, and he fell into a state of unconsciousness before he knew it.
When Jugo finally regained consciousness, he found himself sitting hospital bed that was placed in the waiting room. He jolted up, the nurse sitting next to him quickly sitting up to check his vitals. All he was thinking about was whether Kapri was still alive or did he fail his purpose?
"You're dehydrated," the nurse said, as she pointed towards the IV in his veins. "Do not take this out."
Jugo merely nodded his head, and he hopped off the bed as he walked back towards where he remembered Kapri was taken. The sterile calmness of the hospital buzzed around him, as he glanced around to try to see if he noticed any familiarity with the hallways, but they looked the same. His fist clenched around the stand that held his IV, it wheels squeaking beside him, before he noticed the scent of nicotine nearby. He sniffed the air.
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"Someone smoking in the hospital?"
As he followed the scent trail, he came upon a tall figure leaning against the ledge of a observation window. He exuded a malicious calmness and authority, his gray suit perfectly tailored to accentuate his lean frame. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the smoke curled upwards before lingering against the ceiling. His blonde hair, was combed to frame his face, and his eyes were a green seemed to eerily glow through the haze as he surveyed whatever was beyond that window with an intensity, as if every heartbeat within there belonged to him.
"Sir, you can't smoke in here," Jugo said monotonously, as he realized what he was observing was Kapri and she was still fighting against agony as they tried to mend her, most likely with as much anesthesia as they could.
"Is my disguise so impeccably crafted that you fail to recognize the identity of your master?" Dazriel inquired, his voice a velvety whisper laced with condescension. Ash drifted lazily from the cigarette resting between his fingers, settling like an omen at his feet.
"My, Lady Kapri looks particularly radiant today," Dazriel remarked, his eyes glimmering with a twisted admiration as he watched her. "I made the right choice making her a baroness."
"Is that so?" Jugo replied, unable to find beauty in the agony etched on her face. In fact, he most preferred when she slept; at least then, there was a higher chance of her survival. He assumed that was just the nature of demons to feel that way, not having much opinion on much about how his master felt about Kapri.
"Ah, but you are a reaper," Dazriel mused, as if suddenly struck by a revelation. "You shall never grasp the exquisite beauty inherent in suffering. To you, life is but a tool, a means to an end—how dreadfully simplistic."
Jugo very much agreed with that statement. "You would know about that most, Lord Dazriel , that is how you created us," Jugo respond, not as a retort, but genuinely to express the fact of the reason for his nature. Even when he can clearly feel pain, it never meant anything more than to ensure his what his role is since his existence.
"Are you not too busy these days as a Duke of Vexheim to concern yourself with a mere knight, Lord Dazriel ?"
Dazriel hummed thoughtfully, his gaze momentarily leaving Kapri's form. "I never fashioned you with curiosity in mind, yet here you are, exceeding the boundaries of your designated purpose," he replied, exhaling a plume of smoke that hung in the air between them like a spectral curtain.
"You would be incorrect, this is curiosity rooted in Lady Kapri's survival," Jugo replied, his expression blank as he also directed his full attention to Dazriel . "After all, you are the greatest threat to My Lady's survival."
Dazriel let out a rich laugh, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. "I suppose I cannot fault you for your observations. Yet, you seem to overlook an essential truth: Ose and I are her greatest source of survival."
Jugo pondered Dazriel's words, the implications coiling like smoke in his mind.
"In this realm, six years ago, we discarded the injured and dying as if they were refuse," Dazriel continued, his tone darkening. "Even you reapers were mere instruments, tools for anyone to wield and abuse as they pleased. Who do you suppose Ose changed that for?"
"Do you ponder the reason behind such changes?" Dazriel said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned closer, his gaze piercing.
"My concern isn't with any reason outside of the reason someone would threaten her life," Jugo replied, his tone almost mechanical, prompting another round of laughter from Dazriel.
"You reapers are dreadfully tedious," he said, quickly dropping his mirth before extinguishing his cigarette against the wall. "However, I too find myself perplexed by the current predicament. Is it possible that our Great Lord could be enamored with a mere human, Jugo?"
"It would be quite implausible," Jugo replied, growing tedious with the conversation of demon's business that doesn't concern him.
Dazriel strolled past Jugo, his hand brushing against Jugo's upper arm with a cold, unsettling intimacy. "Exactly," he murmured, his breath mingling with the smoke as he leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "So, what other reason could there be, if not to find something exquisitely special within her suffering? I, who have known Ose for centuries, cannot fathom what he sees in her that is different from the next human."
Jugo stiffened as Dazriel leaned closer, his forehead pressing against Jugo's shoulder, the contact sending a shiver down Jugo's spine. Dazriel's palm glided along Jugo's back, a lingering caress that settled possessively on his hip. With a practiced ease, he lit another cigarette, holding it between his lips as he inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around them like a ghostly embrace.
"Do you want to keep your Lord company tonight?" Dazriel asked, his voice low and seductive as the formality in his speech disappeared.
Jugo answered with a quiet refusal, his gaze remaining steady, betraying none of the conflict roiling within him. Dazriel, however, was not so easily dismissed; he reached up, pressing a finger against Jugo's jaw, tilting his face to meet his piercing gaze.
"Is it because of that woman? I might start to grow annoyed of her," Dazriel muttered, his brows knitting together in irritation. There was a depth of emotion in his voice that Jugo couldn't quite decipher accurately, actually more likely he didn't feel the need to.
"Perhaps you should express that annoyance to her instead of me," Jugo replied, his tone flat. "Without causing her harm, of course."
Dazriel chuckled softly, the sound a mix of amusement and exasperation. His lips curled into a sly smile as he leaned closer, the smoke from his cigarette mingling with the air between them. "All I can tell you is to keep a close eye on your Lady Knight. You know how demons are, right?"
Jugo met Dazriel's gaze, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
"What is it that you exactly mean by that, Lord Dazriel?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dazriel's smile widened, an enigmatic glint dancing in his eyes. "Ah, Jugo, you know better than anyone that desire often walks hand in hand with danger." He released Jugo's jaw, but not before his thumb brushed over Jugo's skin.
"Keep your eyes open," he said, the playful edge in his tone fading slightly, replaced by a note of malevolence. "You have no idea what shadows lurk in the hearts of men—and demons alike."
Before Jugo could respond, Dazriel seemed to evaporate into the shadows of the hallway, leaving only the fading scent of smoke behind.
"Lord Dazriel is correct," he muttered to himself, turning back toward the operating room where Kapri's cries echoed. "Ever since her newfound title many have paid more attention to her than is necessary. I'm sure this was his desire, he did make her the Baroness of Sableford after all. What is it about a demon's fascination with suffering? Or was it what Great Lord Ose desired?"