Indigo water spilled delicately over the curved surface into the soft rectangular basin. As a result, the existing water formed small circles that expanded outward until the entirety of the pool was one entity again.

Mephistopheles found this concept absurd- it was unrealistic in practice.

Creatures do not have the mental capacity to make a mistake and simply come together again as if nothing happened.

He scrunched his nose, scooting his slim body to the smooth marbled edge above the turquoise water. Ruffled ebony hair shaded but did not fully cover his left eye, for a cream cloth eyepatch shielded it. Raising his right leg to pull up his raven pants, he dipped his big toe into the water below.

The smoke-colored rabbit on his lap didn't seem to appreciate this, squirming in a failed attempt to avoid the water below. Mephistopheles's lips curved into a faint smile, slowly setting the bunny to his side, comfortingly brushing his perched ears behind his head.

The approaching sound of heeled boots smacking against the ground interrupted the quiet scene.

Mephistopheles groaned audibly. How could one being make such an annoying sound with his feet?

He lifted his foot out, hastily fixing his pants as the rabbit hopped swiftly into a corner behind a quartz vase that held lengthy, thick leafy-green bamboo stocks. He raised himself off the ground, rushing over to the corner of the dimly lit pool room, kneeling on the floor, reaching towards the little quivering animal.

"Belphie~ c'mere.." He softly encouraged in a feathery, sing-song voice.

A pair of beige arms came reaching from behind Mephistopheles's hips. He blinked in alarm.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Me? What about you?" A clear, oddly pleasant voice questioned curiously.

Mephistopheles scowled at the frost-haired boy, who was taller and muscular in stature, yet not older, not in maturity or otherwise. A heaping fur snow coat hung off his broad shoulders and, below, a pewter sweater with perfectly ironed black pants. Yule was a fitting name for someone who paraded around like it was always a celebration.

"You scared Belphie-"

"I'll retrieve him!" He beamed, shoving his massive body into the corner, wrapping his callus hands around the animal, and scooping the animal into his arms. Mephistopheles grimaced, looking toward the glass panels above. The sparkling night sky-speckled with stars and plants here and there, looked back at his wide-eyed unnatural amber eyes. He inhaled a deep breath. Where had today gone? His knees beneath him felt wobbly and tense as if chains were tied to his ankles, dragging him down. Yet his mind felt light as if floating somewhere, unbothered.

He glanced over at Yule, who was holding his precious rabbit by his front paws, dangling him.

Seizing his arm, he tugged on it. "Let him go, now," he demanded, not allowing him to reply. Instead, he ripped the creature from his arms. Mephistopheles inhaled, waiting a moment or two before collecting his irritation before speaking. "How's Ribbon doing?"

Yule met his gaze with delicate baby-blue eyes. Then, nervously, a chuckle slipped out.

"She isn't taking the news very well. Not from me, Sugar, or Spice. And Lord, certainly not Faustus.." he explained.

Mephistopheles adjusted the cherry cravat around his neck, scoffing. One reaps what he sows; this was no different. But, on the other hand, he couldn't exactly blame the wife of such an ambitious, albeit fraudulent, excuse of an aristocrat. This family was accustomed to dining in a hall, eating several course meals thrice daily. Their plates-plastered with elaborate arrays of foods throughout the span of the day. Peppered sunny-side-up eggs for breakfast, lox, and jasmine tea for lunch, and grilled asparagus, a side dish for cooked lamb.

How could Ribbon maintain hundreds of maids and servants? Furthermore, how could those workers tend to the six-story mansion with over sixty-six windows? On top of all of this, upkeep that horrendous lavender hair of hers pulled into a ridiculous French Pouffe.

Unlike Yule, he did not love any of these mortal beings, not Ribbon, and certainly not the two brats she pushed out. But, of course, he did not want them to suffer either. Inevitably, they would, indirectly, at his hands. Faustus, the man of the hour was nothing more than an ignorant, arrogant fool. His time dwindled like sand in an hourglass; he might as well enjoy his last hours of fame, fortune, and family before it was gone for good.

Yule turned his back on the shorter man. He began to stroll away, his fur-trimmed grey boots once again clicking on the multi-colored tile floor.

"His deal expires tonight, Mephisto," Yule broke the silence. "Midnight."

"I am well aware," He replied, noticing that his friend had begun to walk away. He straightened his light grey long-sleeve collared shirt down, catching up with him. His eyes were staring at Yule's elaborate boots, which had little sparkly white spirals going up and down, contrasting his shabby, weathered tortoiseshell ones.

The taller white-haired man hung his head as he paced onward. "I, too, expire tonight," he whispered somberly.

Mephistopheles's eyes widened, his mouth going dry. He shook his head. "That can't be! You're immortal, like me."

Yule examined the cracked ceiling as the two exited the pool room into the long hallway. The fleur-de-lis patterned walls the two passed by were adorned with French and Germanic paintings depicting scenes of both love and loss. A porcelain-tiled courtyard sat quaintly with large moonstone pillars connecting four hallways, flourishing in greenery and tropical flowers. Fuchsia hibiscus, lime-green palms, fuzzy succulents, and violet orchids. It was a lovely center to this labyrinth of a house.

"You are immortal... Correct?" Mephistopheles repeated himself, securing his arms around the animal.

"I am, but I am no deity or angel. I am only a phantom. Once these twelve days of festivity end, I do as well, until next season arrives," Yule explained to him.

Visibly, Mephistopheles glowered. "If you are to bring goodwill towards men, why not stick around?"

"My brothers will be waiting for me when I return. They all have their unique gifts to bless humanity; surely you know the feeling, having six other brothers," He smiled tenderly down at him.

"You'd be mistaken. I'm not one of the elitists. I simply execute deals. I have no real authority or family," Mephistopheles firmly stated.

Yule wiped his forehead, shifting his gaze to the yellow-eyed man. "Mephisto-"

"You!" A voice boomed from the hallway directly in front of them. A pompous, gluttonous man faced the two, panting. He appeared to be much older than the two, clothed in heavy royal purple robes with golden trimmings on the sides. His belly hung a few inches over his pants, and slight wrinkles were all over his fair face. His dark brown was neatly combed over, and he had a matching beard, which had begun to gray.

"What do you want now, Faustus," Mephistopheles rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I have one final wish!"

"Which is?"

"I want the deal off, please, for my family's sake," Faustus lowered his voice, pleading with the slightly taller man, folding his hands together as if praying.

Mephistopheles forced a laugh, stepping farther away from the human.

"Denied," He held a hand up. "Even if I wanted to, you'd have to talk to the elitists downstairs, and they don't really," he paused,"re-consider deals."

"But-"

"No harm will fall on your family, but your choices will affect their livelihood. Ribbon may have to work. As for the children, perhaps sent away. The maids and servants won't be able to make ends meet,"
Mephistopheles exaggerated.

The man's oakey eyes swelled with sudden realization. He collapsed in front of the two, grasping Yule's pants. Yule's round sapphire eyes gazed at the blubbering human.

"Oh please, benevolent spirit, there must be something you can do to aid in my mishap- you must help me!"

Mephistopheles cringed, escaping into a corner of the courtyard. Humans should realize their actions have consequences, why does Yule have any sympathy for him?!

Faustus sobbed into Yule's coat about The Holy Spirit or something akin. He noted Yule had managed to calm him, rubbing his back and listening attentively.

Utterly disgusting.

Though the calming yet cheerful voice lured Mephistopheles in.

"I have no power in the heavenly realms. Humans may think of me as a figment brought to life. I'm only the embodiment of this holiday," Yule soothed Faustus. "I'm afraid your quarrel is between you, Mephisto, and God alone."

Must he constantly remind me that he's leaving me to my own devices?

The night grew onward, and as it did, the stranger Mephistopheles felt. The weather was rapidly changing. He was seated directly overhead the open-roofed courtyard. The rabbit's little nose and furry cheeks moved in a circular motion as he happily chewed on a palm leaf. The bitter Northern winds had significantly picked up. The very top of his forehead ached with some terrible migraine sensation as if his very bones were going to pop out. Besides that, his eye, the one covered, stung as if something were in it.

The black-haired man hunched himself over a stone bench, grasping it in agony as his animal companion hopped over in concern. Yule caught a glimpse of this, giving Faustus a final pat on the back before rushing to his friend's aid.

"Are you okay?"

Mephistopheles didn't answer immediately, and his shoulder blades felt like they were coming together. The pain continued to run its course, sinking and coiling its way into his flesh. In fear of lashing out, he kept quiet. A tingling, burning sensation trickled from his tailbone to his feet, as if a feline had sunk its claws into him, dragging them all the way down his body. In spite of the pain, it ended as soon as a tiny snowflake landed on his blush-tinted nose.

"What time is it?" Mephistopheles whispered.

One snowflake, two, three, and then the group was suddenly plunged into a blinding white blur. The wind whipped around in a circular, almost blizzard or tornado-like motion. The beautiful floors under the might of the wind trembled and then started shaking. The noise was deafening, howling like an injured wolf. Giving into the force of the storm, the ground itself split into two unequal parts. Beneath them was now a layer of mafic lava, drawing closer and closer to the surface.

"Yule! Belphegor!" Mephistopheles cried out frantically, digging through the accumulating heaping mounts of fluffy, powdery snow. His rabbit was nowhere to be found. Every time his hand touched the snow-it scalded his now deep scarlet skin. Frantically, he raised a trembling hand to his eyes, realizing his skin had drastically changed. He clenched his jaw, baring his sharp teeth as he winced, shutting his eyes. The eyepatch was gone.

What remained of the courtyard was a bipolar wreck. One side lay covered in white snow, and the other with the snow melting quickly by the minute. What replaced the snow on the one side was puddles of water on top of smoldered dirt ground, almost like the desert floor but a deep grey. Mephistopheles was standing on that very ground. He shakily stood up, twirling as a tail had sprouted from his lower back, a tuff of black hair on the very end. Wings unfolded as well, lightly touching his hips as the man, now demon continued searching for his friend, and pet.

"This is farewell for now my friend, for life is an accumulation of greetings and goodbyes, none are forever!" A clear voice pierced through the combination of hell being uprooted and Father Winter raging war.

Mephistopheles hesitated, but turned around, unfolding his wings in defensiveness. He faced his friend, who was consumed by the piercing white vortex. Yule's hands and head were all that remained of his ever-evaporating body. He really is some kind of ghost! Yet his surprise soon turned to bitterness.

"How can you say such a thing!?" Mephistopheles hissed in response. "How can you leave me!" Anger melted to fear as he like a child separated from his mother toward the divide in the ground.

"Please! Please don't leave me!"

Yule simply waved, until inch by inch, he disintegrated into thin air. He would live in the demon's mind for the remainder of the following year.

Mephistopheles ignored his aching body, stomping his enormous, dinosaur-like feet into a puddle. He continued doing so in frustration, the slimy olive water splashing up to his knees. Grunting in disgust, he bared his oversized fangs.

Why? Why me? Why?!

Intrusive thoughts swarmed Mephistophele's mind. His one true companion was gone, and the other-most likely dead. He peeked up, his yellow eyes bloodshot. He soon noticed the annoyance that was Faustus, his face planted into the ground. The human's hair was singed, and the sides of his face were covered in soot. The man let out a muffled groan, trying to heave himself upward.

A sudden urge shot into Mephistopheles's veins and ran to his brain.

What would Yule have done? No. What would Yule want to be done?

He sunk his fangs into his lips anxiously, enough to draw blood that ran down his lips, down his chin. However, the decision was made.

Apprehensively, he began making his way to his former master. His pants were torn and tethered. Little pieces of fabric were burnt at the ends, revealing a sour shade of wine, accompanied by a rotten golden yellow.

"Begone demon.." Faustus somehow managed to whisper, attempting to elevate his head, squinting his blurred vision to see Mephistopheles.

"Silence, I'm helping you, fool," He growled in response, leaning his shoulder down, propping Faustus's limp, fatty arms around his shoulders as best he could.

A weary smile laced the human's chapped lips. "May God have a place for you in his kingdom..."

Mephistopheles glared. "Let's not go that far.."

"Going so soon? Why.. you've just arrived!" A shrill voice rang in Mephistopheles'x ears. It was not the warm, booming voice of Yule. This voice was like an icicle, rigid, sharp, and ready to pounce on those who were unsuspecting.

It was unwise to look directly at whomever this being was. He dropped Faustus, who landed with a "plop" on the rugged, cindered ground. Mephistopheles's lemon eyes followed as he turned his head, tilting it.

A creature stood nearly ten feet away. Their body was toned, and their chest was exposed. They bore the head of a male goat with spiraled, plum-shaded horns and flared nostrils. A set of glossy hooves sat evenly upon the rough ground. A pool of frothy, raspberry blood was accumulating at their feet, dripping down from their crooked mouth. In their unhinged jaw lay two items. On the left, is the mangled corpse of Mephistopheles's cherished rabbit. On the right, is a tarot card, depicting a tower crumbling.