Superman… (requested by anonymous)
“Yes, you dense fuck-monster. It was.”
“Duh. I don’t make empty threats that fire off
into space and dissolve into the infinite
blackness as I later stammer out ‘but I meant
"Your words are quite vile for someone who says they’re not trying to insult me. If I’m interpreting your message correctly, you seem to think that you can kill me. Well, I’d hate to inform you—I’m not one to go down so easily.”
Send me “Spin the Bottle” and my Muse will
9: Kiss on the Lips
((R U KIDDING ME OMG.))
Blankly, Jafar could only stare at the pixie in complete and utter shock.
Not only moments ago they’d been arguing again, something of a common past-time for the two, when the next thing he knew, his words had been cut off. Without warning, with an etch of a clue to her actions, she’d pounced forward, and kissed him.
Every insult he’d had died on his lips with that kiss, leaving the flustered sorcerer staring at Tooth with a wide-eyed, confused expression. As much as he wanted to scream in revulsion, throw himself back from the sign of affection, even hardly ask her about her intentions with the sudden action, all he managed was a weak, choked line of unfinished syllables.
Tooth didn’t have an answer for what the meaning of that was, for why she did it; so she simply shrugged.
"You wouldn’t shut up so I took drastic measures…" She muttered, not sounding too confident with herself. Was that the reason? Or could it be something else…?
No way— There is no way that’s the reason—!
“Poison—?” Tooth repeated, feathers fluffing in indignation. “I did not poison you, Jafar! I kissed you—! If I wanted to poision you I would have done so by another means that did not involve my lips touching yours!
He stared at her incredulously. “As if I’d believe that you—you mad-woman!”
His own face burned in confusion, while the fear of false toxins spreading through is veins only fueled his wild actions. “You’re trying to kill me! That…that kiss was a kiss of death, no doubt! But you can’t get rid of me that easily! I swear it!”
There wasn’t any other reason for it. As if she would kiss him, just because he was talking too much! There were implications from that—ones he didn’t know how to process. Ones that made him much, much more nervous than he already was.
Tooth shot Jafar a look at his comment to the young girl before looking back to Jasmine, giving her a smile. “I’m fine thatnks to the two of you. The doctor said I’m lucky to be alive, and even more lucky I wasn’t put into a coma.
Just the thought made her shiver; what would have happened had she gone into a coma? There was no one close that would decide to pull the plug or not, so what would the doctors have done?
She shook the thought from her mind and leaned against the wall for support, finding the effort to stand exhausting.
"The doctor said that after you fill out some brief paperwork I’ll be able to go with you to your place…" Her eyes met his, giving him a grateful smile. "Thank you again, for helping me out."
Of course she knew things would be a bit awkward, but at least she now seemed to have someone to look after her while she was in such a risky condition. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too long until she could return to her own home.
Numbly, he stared down the young woman before him, already filled with annoyance. Well, she certainly seemed happy to go with him. Or did she? He was stuck between trying to read between the lines of her words, and not caring at all.
She was alive. He’d done his good deed. Why couldn’t that have been enough?
Oh, right. Because of Jasmine. She was always the reason for his strife. She was his strife. Lifting up a hand to push away the locks of hair that crossed his eyes, he gave a tired, defeated smile. There was no turning back for him now.
"You’re welcome, madame." He reached out a hand, a silent contract that would seal their fates for the time being. With the other hand, he tried to shake off Jasmine’s tugging hands, attempting to stick as close to his side as her shyness would let her.
Toothiana was baffled by the mere notion that her soulmate was a demon. What was the universe thinking! This was just ridiculous!
“Soulmate—” She muttered for him, the word bitter on her tongue. She stayed quiet for a little bit before speaking up again, seeming more confident than before.
"Since we’re soulmates, would you mind releasing me?"
Behind her the guys started shouting, one of them stepping forward with that tattered scroll. “I don’t think so—! This had to have been planned! You are our sacrifice to this demon and, soulmate or not, he will devour you!”
He gave the scroll a flick as he opened it, “I order you to devour her soul!”
Goosebumps formed over her body and she became a bit nervous again, eyes darting from the guy with the scroll and to Jafar. They locked with Jafar’s, pleading, before she squeezed them shut. This was it. There was no way he would just let her live simply because they were soulmates; he was a demon, after all, and so she prepared for the worst.
Crossing his arms, the crimson monster could only sit there, thinking over his situation. This woman was his soulmate. He, a creature of flame and darkness, had a soulmate.
And they wanted him to kill her.
Oh, he was tempted to. So, so tempted. He wanted to know, would it hurt, to watch this person die? Would it break his heart, or would he laugh as her blood poured down his hands?
But at the same time, he didn’t. He wanted to know more about this experience. What exactly was a soulmate? What were they good for? How would he feel…if he accepted this? If they both did? Would he be happy? Would she?
Could they be happy together?
Running a long, serpentine tongue across his fangs, he gave a quick side-glance to the group commanding his presence. What idiots. It was a helpful item, yes, but he wasn’t so easily manipulated. Only the newbies in the world of demonic-summoning would fall for such stupid tricks. And they certainly seemed like newbies.
"I have a better idea." He flicked his hand, his words almost lazy-sounding. The red mist curling around it acted as a whip, shooting out to knock the flimsy scrap of paper from the cultist’s hand. Jafar tossed his head back, giving a dark, hysterical bout of laughter. "How about I kill all of you instead?"
She’d moved to relax by the open camp site, her chilled skin warming as the flames reflections danced across her skin. As more and more of the troupe return her smile brightened, leaning back on her hands, head tilting backwards to smile up at the sky.
"Is everyone back now?" she called out softly, eyes opening to look around at the clustered area, curiosity on her face. The wives had already begun to make their meals, but it still looking as though not everyone had come home. Jumping to her feet she frowned, eyes looking at the men who’d entered their secret sanctuary.
Jafar froze over the body of the man he’d just knocked out, staring down at the raggedy multicolored outfit he wore. What was he supposed to do now? He certainly couldn’t just waltz in the hideout, nor could he just stay where he was. Sooner or later, he was sure, someone would come looking for the missing gypsy.
An idea hit his brain like a load of bricks, eliciting a disgusted shudder from the sorcerer. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no way he was going to sully his self-respect with something like…like that. But there was no other option. He was too far into the catacombs to turn back now; he wouldn’t be able to find his way out.
Giving a deep, sickened groan, Jafar reached down, and began switching outfits with his unconscious victim.