Tea Party in Hell

Characters/Pairings: Sort of Kristoph/Dahlia
Words: 387
Summary: 'For those who felt no guilt, remorse or regret for their deeds, Heaven, Hell and Purgatory were all the same.' Kristoph, Dahlia, and tea.

God lied.

Hell wasn't fire and brimstone, nor Heaven angels and harps. There were, unfortunately, no such easy boundaries.

Afterlife was, quite simply, what one imagined it to be.

Kristoph Gavin leaned back against the white chair he was sitting on, raising a porcelain cup of tea to his smiling lips. The sun was bright, the sky blue and the grass green. Far off, in the distance, he could hear the sound of a river and a waterfall.

(And the distant, pained screams of a man.)

He didn't drink the tea, of course; he was holding the cup up to hide his insincere smile and silver-steel eyes as he watched... her.

Dahlia Hawthorne sat under a great oak, her usual parasol providing shade for what little sunlight that managed to penetrate through the leaves. A teacup sat untouched next to her. She was a vision in pink, white and red - all fire and warmth and the hot feeling of poison coursing through your veins. The contrast she made with the flat green of the grass and the rough brown of tree bark made her a perfect model to draw a portrait for.

Unfortunately, his plethora of skills did not include art.

She was painting her nails with clear nail polish, a small smile tugging on the edges of her lips as she worked. When she noticed his scrutiny, she looked up and gave him a smile that reflected all of his insincerity. She was like a moon.

For those who felt no guilt, remorse or regret for their deeds, Heaven, Hell and Purgatory were all the same.

God lied, Kristoph mused as he decided to take the risk. He took a sip of the sharply bitter tea.

It smelled of bitter almonds.

Over the cup and his slowly shaking hands, he could see the darkness behind her smile blossom until it consumed her. She gave him a triumphant smirk even as her eyes widened in horror, dropping the bottle of nail polish on the grass as she rushed over, all false worry and mock concern.

He closed his eyes as his vision went black. She had won this round, but it didn't matter in the grand scheme of events.

After all, they had an eternity to play this game.

Afterlife is what you make of it.