Chapter Text
Squished between two apartment complexes, towered over by neighboring stores in the area, existed a humble flower shop named 'Vanilla's Orchids.' Of course, this stop didn't just sell orchids; a variety of flowers bloomed within the shop, meticulously cared for by the shop's owner- one Pure Vanilla.
Many who enter the shop will tell you its a very comfortable place to wander around for hours- in fact, many who visit seem to forget time even exist as they examine petals of the local flora of the area. Not that Pure Vanilla minded- the layout of the store was meant to be comforting, after all.
In the front corner of the room where the large windows were was a table with two seats. A spot to relax after a long day of work, or perhaps a break from the rain pelting down on you. He's seen many people use it for photos, too, and provided a prop box for anyone wishing to have an impromptu shoot.
Alongside the tables were the shelves filled with flowers- some potted, others on the lower levels housed in buckets of water. Not a single one of them wilted- even past the supposed expiration date- though no customer knew that. All they knew is that the flowers from his shop would last a long time- longer than any they could get from another store.
There was also the tactile floors installed due to the owner's poor eyesight. Sometimes he could be seen using a cane to navigate the store, though his memory appears to be impeccable as he's able to maneuver around the store seamlessly. If one was to ask him how, he'd explain in a very patient tone that he can still make out colors, and the flowers are sectioned off based on color. It simply made organization easy since he's the only worker in the store.
Day in and day out, Pure Vanilla would be found at the front desk waiting to help a customer in need. Customers have noted that they have never seen the man take a break- only ducking into the back to replace bundles of flowers that had been purchased. And yet, he always seemed to be happy. His smile never wilted, and he would hum as he swept the floors of dirt and debris.
No one knew the man other than the fact that he loved his job.
And then, one day, there was a blue bird on his desk- bundled up in soft blankets and resting under a heated lamp. No one knew where it came from- no one recognized the species, either. There was something unnerving about the bird- the way it stayed still for hours, or the colors that never remained consistent. Yet whenever a customer inquired on the bird, Pure Vanilla would simply respond with:
"He's my companion. Please treat him nicely- he's not used to others yet," he'd hum, giving the little bird scratches under its beak and giggling at how it puffed up.
A simple explanation- one the most customers accepted as the bird caused no disturbance to them. Some swear that the bird would stare them down for speaking too loudly, while others claimed that when it flew from its nest it made no sound at all. No one sought to bother the bird, as Pure Vanilla's kind request eased any worries they may have.
That is until one rowdy customer entered the shop late one night.
It had been an hour or two before closing, and Pure Vanilla was finishing his nightly chores before he went home for the night. He had a small radio he kept on the back shelf turned on, the song currently playing a soothing lullaby that filled him with peace. Whenever his attention flicked to the desk, he would immediately focus on the little blue bird under the lamp.
He hadn't moved much that day; content to soak in the warmth of the lamp, and be coddled with scratches under his beak and on his head. He always preened at the attention; a clear difference from how he had original found him in the alleyway behind the store. His blue feathers were glossy, the edges a dark gradient that faded into black.
One would mistake him for a common jay- but he was too big for that. His feathers too blue to be a crow or raven- making him unique to all that saw him. In Pure Vanilla's eyes, he was the prettiest bird he had the honor of sharing company with.
Setting the broom aside, Pure Vanilla approached the counter with a warm smile on his face. Leaning over the counter, he carefully pet the bird on its head and admired the shift of hues as his feathers were displaced. The blue bird puffed up his feathers, eyes opening to glare at him. He's never met a bird the glares before- the expression once off putting to him now adorable as he chuckles.
"Just a bit longer till closing time, dear," He whispered to the bird, pressing a gentle kiss to its head. "Then, we can go home."
The bird's feathers softened, flapping its wings as it found a new spot to sit comfortably. It seems his dear blue bird was eager to return home, having quite enough of being surrounded by people. Pure Vanilla watched him for a bit longer, his expression terribly sweet, when the door to the shop was suddenly thrown open.
The heavy door slams against the wall, the sound echoing throughout the store. Pure Vanilla jumps at the suddenness of the sound, whipping his head around to meet the customer. The blue bird on the desk squawks angrily at the intrusion, batting its wings and puffing its feathers up angrily.
It turns out, the late night customer was man- drenched from the downpour outside, ringing out his sweater on the tiled floors. Pure Vanilla internally grimaced at having to mop the floors later- he couldn't risk mold developing, or a potential accident if he or another customer slipped.
Masking his displeasure with a smile, Pure Vanilla spoke. "Hello, sir! Is there anything I can do to be of assistance to you?"
The man's head snaps up, seemingly surprised someone was there in the first place. Glancing around at the shelves, he brushes away wet hair clinging to the front of his face.
"Um… yeah. Actually- can I have a bouquet?" The man asked, almost slipping as he approached the front desk. "An apology one."
"Of course!" Pure Vanilla cheered, steering them over to the lighter-flower section. Most of the flowers here was white, or held pink undertones that would do well for an apology bouquet.
Shifting through buckets, Pure Vanilla attempted to make light conversation. "Are there any specific flowers you'd like added to the bouquet? Perhaps the receiver's favorite?"
The man, who was trailing after Pure Vanilla, narrowed his eyes. He tensed up at his question, glancing around the room suspiciously. "Why?"
Pure Vanilla picked out a few pink carnations, wondering if he should pair them with lilies. "This is for someone, isn't it? I'm sure they'd appreciate it if the bouquet contained their personal favorite," he hummed, and when he turned around he found that the man was right in his face.
Pure Vanilla took a step back, unsettled by the sudden flip in attitude. His expression was one of frustration- pent of rage that was bursting at the seams. And the only person in the vicinity to direct that rage at was him.
"Don't tell me how I should go about apology, alright?" The man said, his hands balled up in fists that trembled, aching to lodge it into something. "I don't need to be told or- or suggest how I should treat my partner. I know what I'm doing!"
"Sir, I didn't mean to imply-"
"Well you did!" The man cried. "Its not my fault she hasn't been home because of work! Sometimes, maybe I want attention- maybe I want to be loved!"
In his fit of anger, the man punched the shelf next to him, cracking the wood and knocking one of the potted plants off the shelf. It hit the ground and the terracotta pot shattered into pieces with dirt spilling everywhere. The sound of it breaking pulled the man out of his fit, and he was left panting from his outburst.
The store was quiet for a moment, both men starring down at the broken pot on the floor and the dying flower wilting at the edges. The man swallowed, hastily covering his face. "S-sorry man…" He said, almost sounding like a whine. "It's just… its been a long day."
Pure Vanilla bit his tongue, and placed the flowers he had gathered onto the top shelf. Instead of yelling, he simply folded his hands and walked past the man. "Its alright," he spoke gently. "I'll be right back with a replacement."
He left through the back door, leaving the man hunched over the broken pot. Under his breath, the man cursed, pulling out his phone and reading out missed messages from his partner. It must have been hundreds of messages, each of them asking him where he went, and if he was with his supposed mistress.
What a mess he's made- a stupid, terrible mistake that he couldn't take back. Just as he was about to respond to the first few messages, the lights went out. Groaning at his terrible luck, the man decided to cut his losses and leave the store entirely. He's already made a terrible impression the owner; why stick around at all? But when he tried to open the door, he found it jammed.
Tugging on it a few time, the man became aware of how cold the store was. Shivers ran down his spine as the temperature kept dropping, his teeth chatter and his breath coming out as puffs. Adding the fact that he was still soaked from the rain, the man was freezing. Glancing at his phone, he realized that the clock hadn't changed at all. It had frozen in time the moment he became aware of the cold- scream stuck displaying his ex-lover's messages.
Then, near the front of the store, he heard the 'click' of what could have been heels on the floor. For a moment he believed it was the store owner returning- at least then, he could let him out- but the man didn't wear heels. Instead, when he directed his attention to the front, he did not see any man there.
He's not sure what you'd call it at all.
There, just a few feet away from him, most have been a monster. The thing that made the 'click' sound were the nails tapping against the tiles, their feet reminiscent of a bird's. Trailing his eyes up, he found out that the monster was a tall one- covered in long, inky feathers that shifted with every breath it took.
And that horrid face. Two large, beady eyes, with the pupils blown out as it stared into his soul. The feathers, fluttering without any breeze, shifted as the monster revealed a pair of wings from its back. The lights of the store flickered as his panic rose, eyes along those wings blinking open and focusing solely on him.
They blinked in unison, bulging out of its sockets, tears of ink dripping onto the floor. The man could barely let out a sound before the monster was on top of him.
Then, the door to the back door opened, revealing a tired Pure Vanilla with a new potted plant in hand. The lights of the store were back on, the mess at the door cleaned up, and the man missing from the store.
Pure Vanilla stopped in the doorway, glancing around the room with confusion. He'd only been gone a few seconds to retrieve the flower- he would have heard the man leave. Actually, he hadn't even heard the door's tell-tale chime to alert him to anyone leaving- so where did he go?
Then he caught sight a black mass near where the flower had dropped, and any confusion he had was diminished. Actually, maybe he did know what happened to the man.
He walked up behind the bird demon, placing his hand on his feathered back. The feathers, despite appearances, were soft. The eyes on the feathers even fluttered, their pupils turning to hearts at his touch.
Peering over the the demon's shoulder, he blinked in surprise at him holding the flower in his clawed hands, cradling it with dirt and all. Normally his dear Bluebird hated being dirt- a bit ironic, really, since he enjoyed the occasional mauling of mortals. Tears dripped from their eyes, and the dead flower was replaced by a new one.
Despite his tiredness, Pure Vanilla shook his head with a smile. He leaned into the demon, plucking out a few loose feathers and letting them flutter to the ground.
"I haven't seen that flower before," Pure Vanilla mumbled, wrapping his arms around the demon's waist.
"Chirp."
"Milkcrowns? I'm not familiar with them."
"Chirp."
"'Your world?' Well, I hope I can visit one day if it has such pretty flowers."
The bird demons huffed, nudging him with his wing and causing him to chuckle. Then, Pure Vanilla's smile weakened as he recalled the very missing man from his shop.
"You didn't eat him, did you?" Pure Vanilla questioned, as if it had happened before.
The bird demon huffed, tilting its head to the side, and allowed its sharp beak to be visible. Interestingly enough, whenever someone viewed him from the front, it was as if his face was a void- flat with only those haunting eyes visible. He opened it slowly, revealing the sharp rows of backward-facing teeth along the inside of its beak and throat, and then stuck out his tongue.
There, barbed tongue carefully wrapped around it, was a finger. A ring finger, actually, with the ring still on it. Given the fact that there was only a little blood on his feathers, this was the only part the bird took.
Pure Vanilla grimaced, lifting a hand to push the bird's tongue back into its mouth. "That is… an improvement, at least," He sighed, and then his voice turned soft. "Thank you for not eating him, Shadow Milk."
The demon- Shadow Milk, as he called him- seemed to preen at the praise, a slight rumble coming from his chest. He spat out the ring into his hand and gave to Pure Vanilla, his feathers fluttering as he accepted the offer.
"How… kind," Pure Vanilla said, placing the ring in his pocket before placing the new pot on the shelf. Taking another look at the flowers in Shadow Milk's hand, he carefully took it from his clawed hands. "I'll keep this one behind the desk- its special."
Seeing as there would be no one else coming to the store that night, Pure Vanilla decided to close early. It would only be an hour early- therefore excusable, especially with the rain outside pelting down on any unlucky soul still outside. Its a miracle he thought to bring an umbrella with him.
Except that his dear Bluebird tried to crouch under the umbrella; he was comically too large to actually fit. Pure Vanilla laughed breathlessly, scratching under his darling's chin and adjusting his grip on the umbrella.
"Bluebird, you know you don't fit."
"Chirp."
"No, you can't hold the umbrella- everyone would see it floating, and then it would be impossible to avoid the attention."
"Chirp."
"It would be odd, dear, if rain did not touch me. I do appreciate the offer to shield me with your wings, but its not practical."
With a annoyed huff, Shadow Milk began to shed feathers onto the tile flower. Bones cracked as his stature shortened, feathers burning to ash once they reached the floor. There, in place of his dear beast, was a human man.
Replacing his feathery body was a large, leathery coat that encapsulated his entire form that gave him a comically large torso, and he was drowning in a soft puffy collar. His hair almost brushed against the floor, dyed a mix of blues and white that work to hide the eyes still visible in the underside of his hair. And, to replace the click of his talons, he wore heeled boats the ran up to his mid thigh.
It was not the first time Shadow Milk's shifted forms to appear more human. He just prefers not to- something about unfamiliar vocal cords, as well as the strange redistribution of weight that left him unbalanced. But when he's feeling particular huffy about wanting physical contact, he'll shift to be as close as possible to him.
It stirred a warm, fond feeling in Pure Vanilla's chest that an ancient demon of pure chaos would change forms for him, a mere human. It helped that he looked absolutely adorable in his new form, too.
His bird eyes, always wide and threatening, transferred over to his human form. Pupils blown out with a light ring of blue around them, they matched the eyes in his hair. Most of his lower face was covered by his jacket's collar, making his eyes appear unsettling in the right circumstances. It seemed purposeful- whenever he was annoyed in this form, his hair would move on its own, displaying emotions while his face remained blank.
His silly, creepy little bird. Pure Vanilla was truly blessed that Shadow Milk was his.
Pure Vanilla chuckled as Shadow Milk hastily removed his large coat, revealing the body suit underneath that left little to the imagination. The first time Shadow Milk shifted, Pure Vanilla had been so flustered that he forced him to keep the coat closed while they were outside.
He would rather keep such a sight for himself.
He pulled the large coat over himself, and waited for Shadow Milk to press his back into his chest. He liked doing this- just as he did with his wings, Shadow Milk liked to be enveloped in warmth. It just so happened that he liked using Pure Vanilla as a space-heater with how he eagerly waited for him to zip them both into the large coat, leaving his head barely poking out the top.
Locking the doors to the store, Pure Vanilla opened his umbrella and began the walk home. Maybe to some walking this way would have been impractical, but months of experience has taught Pure Vanilla the best pace to balance them both, and when the best time to kiss the back of Shadow Milk's neck would elicit the cutest hiss from his strained throat.
It helped that is was such a lovely night to take a stroll with your lover. Pure Vanilla couldn't ask for better, really.
-
Pure Vanilla had no business involving himself with the supernatural. He never wanted to, actually- living a humble life without the presence of beings beyond his understanding was his goal since the beginning.
The only reason he knew of the supernatural, actually, was from his friend White Lily. Ever since they were children she was enchanted with the unknown- always chasing leads to know more about them. Once, in an empty classroom, they had tried to summon demon to see what would happen, and… well, they don't really talk about what happened.
But with proof that the supernatural did exist invigorated her desire in searching for them, and while Pure Vanilla was cautiously supportive, he kept himself away from participating in any more rituals. It just wasn't something he was interested in messing with, and instead enjoyed listening to the stories his friend told him of her adventures around the world.
Initially, he had no plans in opening a flower shop either. Pure Vanilla had gone to college for a medical degree, and had worked in a hospital for a few years before leaving without explanation. If someone asked, he'd tell them that he felt his calling elsewhere among the flowers he now cares for. In actuality, he felt his life crumbling to pieces with each shift he worked- even if he enjoyed caring for people.
It was too demanding, too tiring for him to keep up with. Some days left him so tired that he forgot where his work life began and where it ended. Everything began to mix together, and he began to forget who he was meant to be in the first place.
Then White Lily was possessed by a demon.
And then him and their friends had to figure out how to perform an exorcism through the notes she left behind, and ripe the demon's hold from her. A cruel, and violent process that left everyone involved scarred with the memory of the wicked demon's smirk, and the sharp crackle she let out when they initially failed to remove her.
The second time left Pure Vanilla bleeding out from the cut veins and arteries of his arms in a desperate attempt to perform a blood ritual to pull the demon out of his friend. It had worked, and left him and White Lily with permanent matching scars to forever be reminded of the events.
After that, Pure Vanilla found it impossible to return back to daily life. Not after ripping a demon out of his childhood friend's body, and not after almost dying in the process. If he had the chance to do it all over again, he would- because he would never leave his friend behind to the clutches of a demon that held ill-intent. Even if it meant dying- but it left him spiraling for months after.
It was only after him and White Lily managed to talk things out- to reach a new understanding between them, that Pure Vanilla was able to move on. That's when the idea of opening his own flower shop began, actually.
He couldn't go back to his old life. Couldn't imagine even trying to do so- not after everything that happened. And so, in a bold move that surprised everyone around him, he quit his job and bought a storefront that was towered over by other well-established stores.
It had been a rough start, admittedly. Pure Vanilla knew how to garden, and how to care for all sorts of flowers, but he'd never managed a store before. It didn't help that the property he bought wasn't exactly up to code as he needed it to be.
Months of planning and reworking the entire layout of the place resulted in the current store he now has. A few mishaps with his supplier, and the occasional rude customer soon became a familiar and easy problem to deal with. It may have taken time- a few years in fact, but Pure Vanilla's found himself a comfortable, and easy life.
And then that bird showed up.
It had been about midday when he heard a loud 'thump' from the back of the store. At the time, there hadn't been anyone inside, and since he didn't hire any workers, he presumed the sound came from outside.
A common occurrence, actually, as the alleyway behind his store was spacious enough to accommodate deliver trucks for the stores connected to it like his. Hearing an occasional shout from the local children playing back there was normal. What hadn't been normal was the shrill cries that managed to pierce his ears through layers of insulation.
Ensuring the store was empty first, Pure Vanilla decided to check outside out of curiosity. He's never heard such a scream before, and perhaps his encounters with a demon has changed the way he responded to potentially dangerous situations as he opened the back door wide open.
All there was at the time were dumpsters and spare trash littering the floor, and the midday Sun casting down on the center of the alleyway. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating the sound when a very quiet, very weak cry came from below.
Glancing down, he found a small, blue bird on the ground with an oddly bent wing. Patches of feather appeared to be missing- some bits bleeding from what seemed to be scratch marks. And maybe he should have been more cautious of birds in alleyways- he's never seen a bird like this one before. The sizing was wrong for a bluejay, but the colors didn't match any bird of its size.
Yet, he still felt the desire to help.
Slowly he crouched down to the ground, extending out his hands to potentially lift the bird. The bird didn't seem to appreciate that- as soon as he was in range, the bird pecked his fingers with its sharp beak. Pure Vanilla flinched, his hands reeling back slightly as beads of blood bubbled up from the wound.
The bird's feathers were puffed in agitation, its beak wide open as it shrieked whenever his hands get to close to it. Had it been anyone else, they would have given up on the nasty little thing and left it to be eaten by the local stray cats. But for all Pure Vanilla's been through, he's always been much too compassionate for his well-being.
With one swift move, the bird is picked up and he holds its body carefully in his hands. The little bird squawks in indignation, flapping its unbroken wing and trying to peck his fingers with increased fury. Even as his hand began to bleed, Pure Vanilla handled the bird with the upmost care.
In one of the back rooms, he kept spare medical supplies in case of emergencies. He still remembers basic first-aid, and while that was for humans, bandaging a wing couldn't be that difficult, could it?
It turns out, it could be.
As small as the bird was, the little thing was feisty. Even when Pure Vanilla set it down on an arrangement of soft blankets and extra clothing he had lying around the bird refused to let him examine the wing. It would dive for his fingers, or flap the broken wing out of his reach. The only reason he was able to stabilize the bird was when he grabbed its feet and kept it still in his lap.
"I just want to help." Pure Vanilla sighed, examining the breakage in the wing carefully. "I'm not going to do anything."
Slowly, it seemed the bird began to settle down- or perhaps the blood loss has made it sluggish. Either way, once Pure Vanilla was able to add a splint to its wing he added a bit of wound-cream to the injuries. Thankfully, none of them were too usurious when compared to the wing. He set the bird down back on the bundle of towels and clothes and wrapped their body carefully in it.
It seemed the bird was too tired o fight back at the moment, instead deciding on settling down in its makeshift nest and letting their feathers relax. Before Pure Vanilla left to return to the front desk, he turned a lamp on over their head to keep them warm, and set aside a cup of water.
"I'll be back soon," he promised from the doorway, and then shut the door behind him.
The rest of the day had thankfully been uneventful; a few people buying flowers for their partners or for loved ones. He watched as some friends sat at the table he set out, watching them subtly flirt and simple exist is each other's presence. It was sweet to watch, but left a small, aching feeling in his chest.
By the time of closing, he had almost forgotten about the bird till he heard a loud chirp from the back. He wasn't expecting any major changes to the bird's conditions- wing breaks aren't easy on birds, especially the little ones. But when Pure Vanilla entered that room he found the little bird completely healed.
There, sitting contently on its nest, the bird flapped its once broken wing as if it had never broken in the first place. Pure Vanilla was immediately suspicious- he may be understanding, but he's not daft. No normal bird should be able to heal from a wing break in a matter of hours- its just no possible.
He approached with caution, observing for any hint that the bird may change. Yet, the bird allowed him to remove the bandage around his wing, and let him carry it back outside. He expected that to be the moment the bird changed shapes- but the bird remained just that. A bird.
A few flaps of his wings, and the bird took off as if nothing happened. For Pure Vanilla, he expected it to b a simple strange occurrence, and that nothing else would happen.
Then, a few days later, the bird appears perched on the store window, appearing to be waiting for his return.
It was in that moment that Pure Vanilla knew something was strange about this bird. Yet, the bird was only seeking his company, and as much as he dislike to admit it, the company would be nice. He hesitated in offering his hand to the bird, and was surprised to have it hop onto his palm without any qualms.
He opened the doors to the shop, and as soon as the doors closed the bird flew to the highest shelf in the store. It puffed up its feathers, closed its eyes, and Pure Vanilla knew the bird would remain there the rest of the day.
When the day came to an end, he opened the door, and the bird flew away. And Pure Vanilla expected that it would be a one off occurrence.
Yet the bird kept coming back. Sometimes their visits were sporadic; showing up for a few days in a row and then only appearing one or twice a week. But every-time the bird came inside, it would perch someone new. Somewhere closer to Pure Vanilla the day before.
In response, Pure Vanilla set out a small, soft pillow for the bird to rest on if it so wished. He also lit a heated lamp, and set aside seeds and water if it was feeling a bit peckish while inside the store. The bird didn't immediately take that spot- still suspicious of him, it seemed, but eventually decided to try.
Pure Vanilla kept his distance, not once surprising the bird with picking it up or scarring it with sudden movements. The bird had been tense in the beginning, feathers puffed up in clear distress. But as the day carried on, its feathers began to soften, and it settled down into a light slumber.
Perhaps he should be afraid of this bird. Clearly, it knew more than it was letting on. No bird behaved this way- no natural bird would. But Pure Vanilla didn't fear what this bird could be. He knows demons- met them for himself. For some reason, whether it was a demon or not, the bird did not want to hurt him.
Maybe his friends were right; his compassion would be his ruin if he's able to accept a demon in his store. But the bird relaxed when he scratched the top of his head, nuzzling his finger when he stopped his petting.
Maybe he was a fool, but he thinks that maybe, this demon wasn't so bad. Maybe they could be friends, and he could be happy. A fantasy in the eyes of others, but Pure Vanilla never held prejudice for others- even the demons that haunt this world.
In his eyes, they were another part of this complicated world. And maybe, this demon was as lonely as he was, and simply needed someone to understand them. And maybe, in return, this demon could understand him, too.
-
The confirmation that his dear bird companion was, in fact, a demon, came on one random Tuesday afternoon.
Ever since the bird had taken to nesting on top of the pillow, Pure Vanilla has made sure to add a sign near the front desk to not disturb them. If it was a demon, it was better to not invoke its wrath on curious customers. He also gave a the bird more blankets to settle into, making its nest more personalized as time went on. Honestly, you'd think the bird was royalty with how much soft fabric surrounded its nest.
Pure Vanilla found it cute, really, that whenever he arrived to open the shop the bird would enter with a new trinket in its peak. Sometimes a shiny rock not worth much other than glint, and sometimes valuables that he wasn't entirely sure wasn't stolen. But the bird happily laid each one of its treasures in its nest, and he decided to let the bird do as he pleased.
After all, his bird hasn't done anything ('yet') to warrant his worry.
Another new development was giving the bird a name. Realistically, he couldn't keep calling the bird 'the bird'- it felt disrespectful. In fact, when Pure Vanilla struggled to find a way to call the bird to the door one night, it had glared at him. He wasn't even sure that birds could glare before this one proved it.
Since then, he's been trying new names for the bird, many of which were rejected.
"Blueberry?" He tried once, and was shrieked at, as if the bird took offense to the name.
"Perhaps Bluebell? That's a nice name," He suggested. and received a mouth full of feathers as the bird slammed into his face in displeasure. He was careful in removing the bird, wincing as the scratches now marking his cheeks.
"Well… how about Bluebird? Its a bit obvious, but its sweet?" He asked, and waited for ht bird's retaliation. Yet, when he found none, he smiled happily and placed his Bluebird back in its nest. "Bluebird, then."
With a name in place, Pure Vanilla found himself growing more and more attached to the bird as days turned into weeks, and then turned into months of them sharing a space together. Once, his Bluebird even joined him for a lunch break and sung him songs in a melody unfamiliar to him.
It served to fuel his theory that this was no ordinary bird, but its sweet song was too lovely to ignore. Really, if a demon wished to serenade him, then who was he to deny them?
Then, on that fateful Tuesday, White Lily arrived to the store with her cat cradled in her arms.
Now, Pure Vanilla knew she had acquired a cat recently. In fact, he's met the cat before- but the cat always showed disinterest in him, preferring to lay in White Lily's lap and be coddled by her. But the cat, with shiny, sleek fur the color of the night sky was an intimidating one. Stretching a bit longer than his wingspan, he feared ever disturbing him. Its why he usually avoids the cat when he visits.
If he recalls, White Lily had named him Silent Salt- an odd name, but strangely fitting.
When she had entered, she seemed happy at first. And then her eyes drifted from him to his Bluebird, and then everything went wrong.
First being that her cat began to hiss, tensing in her arms when he noticed the bird on the counter. In response, Bluebird puffed up its feathers, its beak opening and letting out a warning trill. It seemed that White Lily, too, was on edge by the appearance of his bird, though she approached the counter calmly.
"Hello, friend. I hope you have been well," She greeted, scratching behind her cat's ear in an attempting to calm him down.
Pure Vanilla, trying his best to keep the atmosphere from souring, gave her a warm smile. "I have been, thankfully. In fact, I've made a new friend! Their name is 'Bluebird,'" he said, giggling a bit.
White Lily glanced at the bird, her smile a bit shaky as she sensed the strangeness of the bird as soon as she had entered. Her years of studying the supernatural meant she was more attuned to shifts in energy and of dark magic- and this bird's energy was thick with malice.
"Isn't that… lovely," She strained to complement, and Silent Salt's hiss grew louder as Bluebird shrieked at him, flapping his feathers in a mocking fashion.
Neither one of them were prepared for Silent Salt to jump out of White Lily's arm and dive for the bird, or when the bird went across the room in an instant. Suddenly, in a flurry of movements, Silent Salt dashed across shelves in an effort to catch the bird, yowling loudly every time the bird evaded his attack, letting out a teasing chirp in response.
Desperately the two humans tried to regain control on the situation with White Lily grabbing Silent Salt multiple times to stop his pursuit to only lose grip of him due to his sleek fur. Then Pure Vanilla would call for his Bluebird, hold out his hands to catch the bird when it would have to dive away when Silent Salt would try to catch him.
Potted plants fell to the ground and left shards of pottery all over the floor, and buckets of waters spilled and left a slippery mess that made if difficult for the two to navigate. When a shelf tipped over and almost crushed White Lily- only managing to dodge at the last second- did Pure Vanilla have enough.
Just as his Bluebird rounded a shelf corner he used a blanket to catch it. The bird left out a strained shriek and Silent Salt took the opportunity to pounce. Pure Vanilla scooped the bundle as quick as he could, but was still nicked by the cat's dagger-sharp nails, drawing blood to his arms.
The cat landed harshly to the tiled floor, and when White Lily finally got a hold of him, it was over. With the bird still trapped in the blanket, Pure Vanilla hurried into the back and left the bird in the spare room. Then, when he returned, he saw White Lily scolding the cat harshly.
"How could you act so reckless?!" She demanded, holding the cat under its front legs and shaking him a bit, her voice firm and brimming with disappointment. "You could have hurt someone- one of the shelves almost hit me, Silent Salt! You can't just pounce at any moment you feel like!"
Somehow, the cat appeared guilty with its tail curled tightly in knots and letting out a sad 'meow.' Whatever that meow meant seemed to ease her slightly, but when she noticed Pure Vanilla in the doorway, her worry returned.
"Pure Vanilla!" She gasped, noticing the blood staining his sweater sleeve. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know this would-"
"Its alright," Pure Vanilla cut her off, wiping the blood off with his thumb. "It's only a surface level scratch; it'll be gone within a few days."
"But…" She began, glancing around the ruined store. "Your store. I-I can pay for the damages! If I wasn't here, then-!"
"Lily!" Pure Vanilla said, his voice raised. "It's fine. I know you didn't mean it, and you don't have to pay for anything. All that matters, really, is that we're alright. Its just a couple of flowers," He hummed, though his voice strained at the end.
Not one to let topics end so quickly, White Lily set Silent Salt on the ground and looked at him with a determined expression. "Then, you'll let me clean up this mess. It's the least I can do."
As much as Pure Vanilla wanted to turn her down, the mess caused by two animals had been extensive. He doubts the store will be open the rest of the day- maybe not even tomorrow, for that matter.
"I would appreciate that dearly," Pure Vanilla relented, and the two began to clean up the mess to the store.
By the end of the day, most of the store was cleaned up. Some of the tiles would have to be replaced- broken by the impact of the heavy shelf coming down on them. He would also have to order more pots, and speed up the deliver of flowers damaged in the chaos, but most of the damage had been superficial.
When White Lily was gearing up to leave, Silent Salt bundled up in her arms once more, she asked him one cryptic question.
"Nothing strange has been happening here, yes?" She asked, looking a bit nervous.
"No. Other than my new bird, everything else has been business as normal," He replied, and then hummed. "Actually, my flowers have been lasting longer than usual, but that's about it."
White Lily pursed her lips, but accepted his answer. She scratched behind Silent Salt's ear, and said, "If anything happens, please, do no hesitate to tell me. I couldn't forgive myself if my friends were in trouble while I sit back and do nothing."
With a found chuckle, Pure Vanilla ushered her out the door. "Of course I will. Have a good night, okay?"
Leaving the store behind, White Lily disappeared into the night with cat in hand. If one was to look closely, they'd see that nothing living dared approach them- to the smallest insect to the birds overhead. Yet, all anyone ever saw was a woman carrying her cat, and that's all they'll ever see.
Back in the store, Pure Vanilla leans against the door with a tired groan. Its not that he hated excitement- he loved a good adventure or two when offered the chance to travel with his friends. But his store coming at the cost of that wasn't pleasant, and he was glad that White Lily was kind enough to help him clean up.
His thoughts are then interrupted by loud 'crash' from the back, the sound of metal shelves falling to the ground- something that shouldn't be possible if there was only a small bird there. Stumbling into the back, Pure Vanilla shivers as the back had turned suddenly very cold. The thermometer was on- it shouldn't even be cold.
The door to the spare room was pushed open slowly, and the table he set Bluebird on was empty except for the blanket he used. Then, he heard a large scrapping sound from the corner, a low whine alongside the sound of something tapping. He hesitated to step into the room, but steeled his nerves. Glancing around the door, he sees it.
A black, feathery mess, in the corner of the room. It claws at the walls, its beak chattering and making that tapping sound he heard, letting out a low shriek at ever inhale. The wings on its back fluttered, loose feathers falling to the ground and burning up on contact. The door made a creak, and the demon's head snapped towards him.
Its eyes were the brightest thing in the room. While the pupils were blown out wide, taking up almost all of its eye, there was a thin ring of blue around them that lit up the dark room. He noticed, then, the eyes on the feathers- reminding him a peacock, or the false eyes used to confuse predators on where a creature's face was. Fitting, really, that a demon would use such a tactic to deceive its pray.
And yet, the way the demon looked at him wasn't the way a predator would look at pray. Instead, it seemed… scared. Perhaps at the idea of rejection, or retaliation- explaining why it had been trying to leave the room in the first place. He knows that he should feel unbridled fear. but really, he was in awe.
The demon slowly stood, and as it approached, Pure Vanilla realized that this demon was tall. He had to strain his neck to meet its eyes, and even then the demon was hunched- most likely due to the wings on its back, and it let out a quiet trill once it stood only a few feet away from him.
Pure Vanilla raised his hand to the demon, palm up, and watched as the demon carefully rested its chin in his hand. Soft feathers met his skin, and a layer underneath of new feathers waiting to spring out. His thumb brushed against his Bluebird's cheek, and it leaned into his touch, letting out the quietest of coos.
He knew, then, that this was his Bluebird, and he couldn't be happier. A warm smile graced his tired face, and he cupped the demon's face in his hands. "Aren't you a handsome devil?"
The demon's feathers puffed, as if pleased by the complement, and Pure Vanilla knew his heart already laid in the hands of his demon well before he knew it. Then, the demon's beak opened, and it spoke.
"Ssh…sha- sha-do…ssshadow…milk…" it struggled to say, its cords unfamiliar to human speech. Pure Vanilla's eyes widened, and he let out a soft laugh.
"'Shadow Milk?' Is that your name?" He questioned, and received an eager nod in response. "A lovely name, then, for the prettiest of birds."
Shadow Milk cooed in response, wrapping his wings around them both, and Pure Vanilla knew he was already gone.
-
When they arrive to Pure Vanilla's home, Shadow Milk was quick to enter their shared bedroom.
Every since he welcomed the demon into his home, he's found the space to be more comforting than a simple resting place. The trinkets that Shadow Milk still occasionally collects are displayed on newly installed shelves, some of which are worth more than others. He;s sure that the more expensive jewelry was stolen, but returning it would only invite scrutiny- so he doesn't try.
Along with the trinkets are the large abundance of blankets and pillows for nesting material that has taken over his living room but especially his bedroom. Whenever he takes a day off- usually by Shadow Milk's demands for attention- it became almost impossible to find him under layers upon layers of blankets.
Though, he must admit that he enjoyed whenever his lover- in demon or human form- laid on top of him. It was a comforting weight, and the occasional sleepy purrs he let out were delightful. All this to say that Pure Vanilla loved his demon partner- even if he could be unsettling at times.
After setting the umbrella and coat aside by the door, he enters the bedroom to find Shadow Milk messing with the pillows. That was another thing- he was very particular about how their 'nest' should be arranged. He refused to accept anything less than perfection, and once kicked him out the bed when he knocked a pillow to the floor.
His Bluebird could be a bit dramatic.
Once Shadow Milk noticed him, he grabbed him by the front of his shift and pulled him closer to the bed. Pure Vanilla giggled and pressed a quick kiss to the demon's cheek, taking joy in seeing those pale cheeks light up.
"Give me a moment, love," He chuckled. "At least let me change into something comfortable."
Shadow Milk seemed to have other plans, however, and pulled him down onto the bed. It seemed he was a bit huffy, as he laid almost half his body on top of Pure Vanilla- mostly out of spite. He could tell because the eyes in his hair were narrowed, and his pupils had turned into slits.
If he didn't know better, he'd assume that he was a cat demon instead of a bird.
Still, his ran his fingers through Shadow Milk hair, feeling his body relax against his. The demon liked this- the soft touches, and gentle press of his fingers against his nape or pulse point. He was weak to it, demon form or not, and Pure Vanilla took full advantage of it.
Pulling one of the blankets over them, Pure Vanilla wrapped his arm around Shadow Milk's waist and settled in for the night. Shadow Milk had hidden his face in the crook of his neck, his lips lightly brushing it and sending a shiver down his spine. Then, he spoke.
"P-pure… pure…" he croaked, his cords straining to get the words out. Even now, in a human form, he's unable to truly speak. "Pure vah… va-nilllla…"
"Shh," Pure Vanilla shushed, kissing the top of his head. "Don't hurt yourself. You'll feel sore in the morning."
"Lah… lah…" Shadow Milk tried, but his voice failed him. Instead, he grumbled under his breath and dug his claws into the front of his shirt. He'll try anther time.
As the room grew quiet, the couple fell into any easy slumber. Pure Vanilla's arm remained secured around the demon's waist, acting as a promise to never let go. An odd romance indeed, but Pure Vanilla wouldn't have it any other way.