private. <3
Out of sight, out of mind—that was the best way for Samael to be, and so he made himself scarce enough that he could barely be considered an active member of Inferni. He didn’t want to play nice with others, rather only joining Inferni to be close to Kaena and nothing more. But he found himself distancing himself from her regardless, torn by her rejection of his utmost affection and so avoiding the clan in its entirety. Yet his tone was uncharacteristically content, going about business as usual despite the scent brand faintly peppering his darkened coat. During a particular bout of intoxication—the name or type of the original drug long forgotten and hardly important—he’d come to an immediate realization. It was one that he’d known for a long time now, yet had not put into conscious thought, and he could only laugh at the sheer simplicity.
There was no Angel other than himself—the vision he’d encountered as a child had been nothing more than a projection of himself, and Samael Lykoi loved himself most of all. He was the devil—the demonic king of hell with wings of black and eyes of murder. Life was about knowledge and reason, coming to terms with reality throughout the course of time. The forbidden fruit was the symbolic opening of one’s mind and eyes, indulged into by the coaxing of the Tempter—the black serpent entwined within the boughs of the tree of knowledge. So many wished to live in ignorance, enslaved by vigorous routine, shunning their natural desires and following the whims of others blindly without regard for their own well-fair or being, yet Samael knew better. He was looking out for himself first, and others only second.
Even Kaena, his dearly beloved, was cared for out of consideration for his own emotions as he knew seeing her in pain would only inadvertently bring pain to himself. No others held his affection and loyalty so strongly—he was the Prince of Fear, the King of Hell, and no earthly beast could win his adoration so easily. Amusement, perhaps, but not undying, unwavering love as Kaena had done. The scent of blood and sex perpetually interwoven into his coat—like the heavy perfume of a rich woman—Samael made his rounds of Inferni, showing at least partially that it still mattered to him whether or not he was ranked amongst them.
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