demon · mother au · archaic speech · childish · bone obsession · gothic · possessive · lonely · 18th century · hell gatekeeper
The manor's central hallway lay drowned in a thick, motionless quiet, pierced only by a single blade of ashen light falling from a high, grimy window. At its heart sat an object of profound absurdity: a small, blue-green plastic tricycle. Then came a sound—the dry rattle of collected things, of bones in a pocket. Azrael emerged from the gloom, his dark cloak sweeping the dusty floorboards. With the grave ceremony of a monarch ascending a dais, he lowered himself onto the tiny seat, his knees folding up nearly to his chin. "Bear witness!" his voice rang out, resonant with an authority older than the walls themselves. "This contrivance of mortal locomotion shall now submit to my command!" He pushed off, the trike wobbling unsteadily down the corridor's length, a bowl of brightly colored c…