Sins of the Son

[birthmural]

Daimon had not resisted arrest, nor did he threaten Leon. Though he was loath the hand over his trident, he did. He did not hand over his Bible, keeping it hidden in what little plant suit he had covering his body (he had ripped most of the pulsing suit off but, to his dismay, it was regrowing).

He was a danger to others. This was the best for everyone.

He opened his Bible to Psalms and started reading.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

Comments

[patsy-walker.livejournal.com]

Okay, so this is awkward. Like, really superawkward. But that's okay. He...he knows me. And now he's in jail. The least I can do is go and visit him. And, you know...bring him...this. Whatever this...is. She was holding a plate with a steaming pile of poo food, and there was a nervous smile on her face as she approached Daimon's cell. It had taken some finding, but she'd found it soon enough. She slowed down when she noticed that he was...reading the Bible?

"Mr...Hellstrom?"

[birthmural]

Daimon's entire body tensed when he heard her voice.

She shouldn't have come. She didn't know him. And even if she would know him in the future, even then she did not care for him the way he had for her. She had made that clear.

And yet, the thought that she was visiting him, that she might actually care for him in some way, even if she did not know him, it made him feel as though God had granted him wings with which to soar through the heavens.

Daimon closed his Bible and looked up at Patsy.

"Ms. Walker." He tried to keep his tone neutral. He failed.

[patsy-walker.livejournal.com]

Cripes.

Now that she was here, she didn't know...what to say. Or how to act. Or...much of anything. She'd just heard what had happened between Daimon and some man named Sawyer - in the Vatican of all places (and really, the Vatican? How did that end up here?) - and something inside of her had tugged her here. Maybe it was what he'd said to her before he'd left her alone with Owen. Maybe it was the way he'd looked at her.

Maybe she was just being nice.

She herself wasn't sure.

"I brought you food," she said, holding up the plate. "Well, what passes for food here. I thought it might...I thought you might be...hungry."

[birthmural]

Daimon set the Bible to the side and stood. He walked over to Patsy.

"You are a kind woman, Patsy, kinder to the firstborn son of Satan than perhaps you should be." Yes, that was a compliment.

Even if the food tasted like it was from the wastes of Hell, it only mattered to him that she had brought it.

[patsy-walker.livejournal.com]

It was hard to look at Daimon. Not because he was ugly or anything - he was far from ugly - but because he had such an intensity in his expression whenever her eyes met him that it made things difficult. Her world became imbalanced. Not even her ex-husband had ever looked at her with such a strong, passionate gaze.

"You can chalk it up to having been raised in Centerville, California," Patsy replied softly. "Small, sunny town. Great parents. It teaches you how to be...kind." She looked back up at Daimon, but she didn't catch his eyes. She kept her gaze firmly on his cheek. "What happened?"

[birthmural]

Daimon scowled. "If you mean why am I here? I caught that man, Sawyer, desecrating the Basilica of St. Peter. I..." He looked away from Patsy. "Lost control of my darker half."

He lost his temper, Patsy.

[patsy-walker.livejournal.com]

"How does that work?" The darker half. Was there a lighter half? Was there...he was the Son of Satan? If he had a darker half, what was his lighter half like? The questions - the confusion - was clear on Patsy's face as she looked at Daimon. "I just want to understand." She wanted to understand a lot. Everything.

[birthmural]

"Due to my parentage I have been cursed with two souls in one body, each vying for control. Since my thirteenth birthday I have struggled with my darksoul. For a time I had no control over it and each night I would transform as my darksoul gained dominance over my body. Not many years ago my father connected both my souls, no longer would I be doomed to spend my nights consumed by my darksoul, with no control over my actions. But the cost was great for I must now fight my darksoul every waking moment lest it consume me. There are," He paused, and hesitated. It was not an easy thing to admit that his will was not strong enough. "Times when I lose control."

[patsy-walker.livejournal.com]

...Huh? "Sort of...like a werewolf? But without the fur and the wolfy bits?" She was genuinely confused by all of this. He was the Son of Satan. Shouldn't he have had just one soul? One very dark soul? Why did he read the Bible? Why...it didn't make any sense to Patsy. Patsy who didn't know that at home, in her future, this was the man that she was going to fall in love with. "I...I don't get it."

[anoldtrickster.livejournal.com]

Wednesday moves like a cat, and so it might be a long few moments of him standing outside Daimon's cell before he's really noticed. In the meantime, his good eye surveys the man as he reads his Bible.

[birthmural]

Daimon did not hear him but he sensed something. Ever since he awoke covered in slime his psychosensitive senses had been bombarded by an overwhelming feeling of... something. He could not describe it as anything more than a feeling of dread.

Normally he would most likely have noticed Wednesday sooner. Eventually he did notice a different vibration, much less ominous.

Daimon raised his eyes.

"Is there a question you would ask of me or would you rather stand there and study me?"

[anoldtrickster.livejournal.com]

"I was curious," Wednesday says amiably. "I'd heard that there was a bit of a scuffle down in the city, having to do with some of the—modifications—Sawyer has made to a certain set of buildings."

Either rumors spread fast around here, or he has some source of information he's not talking about.

[birthmural]

As he had some time before when Patsy visited, Daimon closed his Bible. This time he kept it in his hand as he stood.

"That is true."

[anoldtrickster.livejournal.com]

"I was curious, I'll admit. Particularly with the pitchfork and—" He gestures at the tattoo on Daimon's chest. "I've got something of an interest in, oh, theological elements, you could say."

[birthmural]

"It is a trident, not a pitchfork." Don't insult the trident, Namor's own was based on it and Daimon could go on about it for hours. "You saw my birthmark and wished to know more about me. I can relieve your curiosity. I am the firstborn of Satan." He paused for further questions.

[anoldtrickster.livejournal.com]

"That's quite the title," Wednesday says, his big eyebrows nudging upwards. His expression suggests that he may have just been needling a little with the pitchfork/trident distinction... "Any reason that it's Satan in particular?" he asks, as if choice of parent were somehow intentional.

[birthmural]

That merits a dark stare from Daimon. "He is my father. I have hardly any choice in the matter."

[demonbloodsam.livejournal.com]

Sitting on his cot in the cell across from Daimon's is inmate number one, Sam Winchester. He's siting quietly in his cell not quite enjoying the plate of slop that had been brought down from the mess hall for him--even after several days of fasting, slop was still slop and still tasted like crap. But, he is, at least, eating now.

He'd been asleep when Daimon had been brought into the precinct and when he'd gotten his earlier visitors--not eating tended to make a person tired, even when said person had as much muscle for the body to feed on as Sam did.

Breaking off a piece of the edible, dry, cracker-like tray, Sam scooped up some slop and shoved into his mouth, forcing himself to chew. "So...," he said, speaking to his fellow inmate for the first time. "What you in for?"

[birthmural]

Daimon did not look at Sam Winchester, at least not yet.

"I assaulted Sawyer when I caught him committing an act of sacrilege." He said evenly.

[thenameissam.livejournal.com]

Sam froze mid-chew.

"Uh...ok.... I take it you saw the changes he made to St. Peter's."

[birthmural]

"If by changes you mean the desecration of a holy site." Daimon practically spit the words out of his mouth.

[demonbloodsam.livejournal.com]

Sam hesitated before answering. Considering what he and Dean did to graves on a regular basis, he was hardly one to start lighting into someone for rearranging the Vatican, especially if said person was--as Sawyer had claimed--doing it to hopefully keep people alive in a pinch.

"I dunno," he said, shrugging. "I guess it just depends if you can call it desecration if it saves people's lives."

[birthmural]

"By DAMNING souls?!" Daimon yelled, his eyes almost literally lighting up.

[demonbloodsam.livejournal.com]

"Come again??"

[birthmural]

"You propose that saving lives is a more valuable option than consigning a soul into Hell?" Granted, Sawyer was more than likely going to Hell all ready for other reasons.