She stepped back, taking care not to stumble upon the stairs, but somehow unable to stop the tremors that now racked her body. "Goddamn it." she said faintly, not in fury or relief, but just because it felt like something had to be said to put an end to this whole, horrific event.

She managed to shape her budding turmoil with a scoff of amusement. Now would be a good time to redirect them to their normal life; all she had to do was get up and out of bed. But the second she did that, this peacefulness -- this content? It was gone.
Who was she really leading on, here? Feofil? Or herself? "... we hit a lot of firsts yesterday."

Saskia and Feofil had settled in the living room when, after making sure the princess was not in earshot, his mother leaned over and whispered, “Something feels off with Pari. Is she okay?”

At that moment, Pari stepped out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. She was on her way over when Saskia screeched, “Pari! A demon?! Are you alright?”
Pari fixed Feo with a Look and said shortly, “I’m good. Nothing happened.”
“Oh my god. You need to go home and see your parents, Parisa. They’re already worried sick about you and don’t think for a moment I won’t tell them what happened!”
The Look Pari fixed Feo with grew frostier.

"It was just the two of us in a house for like a month," she blustered. "And we were both hot and alone, so..."
"He's loved you for years." Sparrow said with concern, touching her shoulder. "And I know you love him too."
"Would you please fucking chill out?"

"After," she admitted. "I... couldn't sleep, so I went to his room, and..."
"There was a demon attack?" Sparrow's eyes widened as she grabbed Pari's hands. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. You didn't snoop on that part?"
"No, only the thing with Feo... I just got here." she confessed," And I heard your voice, and Kyros, and I was so excited that you were talking, I didn't want to interrupt..."

"Sorry," she replied meekly as Pari shrugged. "That's really all there is to it. It was a bad decision made after a stressful day."

The smoke laced the air in a thin spiral and slowly snaked its way to Melat, who had been advancing at a steady pace. The moment it drifted to her nose, she froze in place. Her grimacing smile, stretching her cheeks so wide that her pink gums had been entirely exposed to them, smoothed away until she was glowering down at the two with a stony expression, and a lance of fear skewered Pari's stomach. Somehow, her lack of expression was worse than the grin. "Feo..."

Pari shook off the shock that was starting to sink into her bones, especially because it was accompanied by a stir of ever-present guilt. Well. If she was going to feel guilty, she might as well stave off until she'd done all the depraved things that needed doing.
"Not yet." the princess snarled, stalking forward and past him, up the staircase, with seemingly little hesitation. She approached Melat like a bull upon a matador, but instead of goring the demon with a horn, she used the kitchen blade that had been tucked into her hand. It was about half the length of her forearm and she took a quick gasp for air before gripping the base with two hands and plunging it upwards, through Melat's chest, where she felt the pushback of ribs and nearly retched at the feel-- but Pari forged on, shoving as hard as she could until she could shove no longer, until the blade was stuck so fast that gravity would not pull it back down. Her hands were covered in blood, but it was black. Melat didn't utter a single noise in response.

"Feofil," she ground out again, heart sinking at the tension in his face, the paleness of his cheeks and his trembling hands. "Don't do this."

He was pushing himself too hard. She'd seen what happened to Krill, what happened to any of the Lumanliscs when they submitted to whatever high it was that Altair seemed to give them. They were glorious in that moment, but the ensuing days of bleeding from every orifice and puking up even the thinnest of broths and near-death experiences, not to mention all the demons, were enough of a drawback to leave her glad she wasn't one of them. If Melat didn't kill him, this express of power would, and Pari wasn't going to sit around and play damsel in distress in the meantime - especially when he hadn't even groveled sufficiently, yet.
Every thought churned more anger in her stomach. Anger and fear in doubles, then triples, and then in such great amounts that it felt like armor encasing her ribs, squeezing them too tight, crushing her heart in the process. Melat with her beastly expression and her too-long limbs. Feofil, only feet away from the monster, willing to sacrifice himself first, either not realizing or not caring that this meant Pari would be subjected to the horror of watching the demon tear him to ribbons of meat and bone and skin. "Stop." she issued again, but this time her voice was full. It echoed through the foyer, bouncing off the wood-paneled walls, crashing into both Feofil and Melat. She saw the moment it took possession; saw him drop his hands, eyes still wide and frenzied. But Melat...
Melat was frozen. She was inches away from the first step off the floor, still leaning dangerously forward, still wearing that solemn expression that promised a painful death. But she had stopped.