The crystal alembic worked absolute miracles. For the longest time, the solutions that Karazelle distilled with her stolen school equipment always wound up thick and murky, but now that she had some proper Phrodival kit, she was producing much purer distillations. The special alchemical honey improved the yield of her base mixtures, the various plants and herbs she bought had promising potentials, and the few scraps of advice she picked up at the markets were being put right to use. After so many weeks of failures and roadblocks, she was back on track with her little chemistry project.

But the Succubus couldn’t concentrate, not for a second. She just sat on a stool, deep in her hidden lab, staring at the pink steam as it wafted from her latest batch of rapidly-cooling potions. It floated up towards the vent in the ceiling where it lingered for a moment before disappearing altogether. For a while she had worried about residue buildup in the old ventilation system, but at that moment she had something more concerning on her mind.

That one-eyed Devil. The one hiding in Cobalt’s body.

She was so casual with him; playfully calling him ‘kid’ as she handwaved all of her explanations and returned snarky remarks to the Matriarch. Karazelle just wanted to grab her by the neck and throttle her for daring to intrude upon her teacher’s life, but the moment that woman’s blood-red eye glanced at her, the Succubus felt herself paralysed by intense fear.

The same fear that rendered her so powerless that day, back when Diate had inflicted himself upon the school. For all his bluster and bravado, that man had a terrifying stare, but this Lilith woman…? She was something else. Something meaner. Something that made Karazelle fear for Cobalt’s safety more than she had ever done before.

And yet... she remembered those nights she spent just talking to him. Lying in bed next to the Incubus as he struggled to spit out his feelings. He warned her about the other Devils before they attacked, and for a while it seemed as though he was trying to tell her something else, too. Was he trying to tell her about this Devil hiding in his mind? The one who supposedly turned against her own kin?

It beggared belief, but… she wanted to trust him. Cobalt was in deep, deeper than she thought possible. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do whatever she could to help him out of it. She just hoped he wouldn’t push himself too hard; it was clear to anyone that his health was on the decline.

Standing up, Karazelle stepped over to the workbench and took a sniff of one of the potions. It smelled right, and the colour was good, but the consistency was just a little off. As it was, it looked pretty close to the Red Rose Extract that Jezebel had given her last year, but… That’s not what she was trying to make.

She had to isolate and distil the compounds that promoted relaxation, clarity and peaceful thinking, while toning down the aphrodisiac’s more intended effects.

Truth be told she barely understood what she was doing anymore. This started as another elaborate attempt to get into the Incubus’ bed, but now it felt almost wrong. Because after what happened during the psycheflensing, Karazelle now knew that she wouldn’t need any fancy lines, flirty tricks or alchemical shenanigans.

She would just need to…

The Succubus swallowed hard.

She would just need to sit down and talk with him. Openly. Genuinely. Help him through his own feelings.

“Oh sugar… You have no idea, do you…?” she mumbled, sitting back down on the stool.

The things he said while under Cherry’s spell… She couldn’t get them out of her head. Words so filled with desire and devotion, heavy with genuine yearning and tinged with turmoil. The way he described Jelli and Izzbelle, Whitney and Elya… even her… it was like confused poetry of his own making. When she leaned over the banister and looked down into his drug-addled eyes, she saw tears leaking down his face.

He spilled everything. What he wanted. How he felt. What he desired, deep down, through all the social obligations and personal grief.

Cobalt couldn’t remember a word of what he said down in the Punishment Chamber, that much was obvious.

But Karazelle did. And for the first time in a long, long time, she didn’t know what to say in response.

She had never felt so genuinely touched. Not from the childhood mentors who raised her. Not from the people she used to flirt around with. Not from her closest friends. And certainly not from her mother.

Karazelle got close to Cobalt that cold autumn evening – all those months ago – with the intention of making him a little flustered.

But there she stood now, red-faced and unable to think.

She took a deep, clarifying breath.

“Hoo… Get it together girl, c’mon…” the Succubus breathed, lightly slapping her cheeks.

This wasn’t about her. She had to remind herself of that. Everyone else came first; she could tend to her own needs if time allowed. Right now, Cobalt was suffering. From the Devil, from school, from general stress; everything. His dad was back, for crying out loud! His entire world had been thrown into complete chaos! What he needed now more than ever was a steady presence by his side.

And by hellfire’s grace, that was going to be Karazelle Terna.

“Knock knock, Whoretits,” yawned a voice from the door, startling her into almost tipping out of her stool.

Whitney was leaning by the door, staring around at the underground alchemy lab with a bored expression on her face.

“What the Hell are you doing down here, Butterskin?” Karazelle grumbled, glaring daggers at her.

“I could, like, ask you the same thing. You disappear for days and then I see you sneaking down here. Wanna explain what all this stuff is?”

She gestured to the generator and the lab equipment, which the Succubus just shrugged at.

“It’s a Succubus thing; you wouldn’t get it. Would be too over your head, anyway.”

Rolling her eyes, the Nymph stepped inside. She peered up at the scribblings on the chalkboard, but wound up bumping into the workbench, rattling all of the bottles. Thankfully, she managed to catch one as it fell to the floor.

“Watch it! This is sensitive stuff, alright?” Karazelle sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose.

“What is this?” Whitney murmured, peering closely at the alchemical mix.

“Don’t drink it!” the Succubus suddenly cried, remembering all the previous incidents when her friends got too involved with her work.

Whitney pulled a shocked face.

“Why the Hell would I drink it?! What do you take me for, a child?!”

“Just put it down, alright?!”

“I asked you what it was!”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Why not?! What are you even doing down here?! What is all this-?!”

The bottle slipped from the grasp of her prosthesis hook and shattered right at the Nymph’s feet. The two demons looked down at the puddle of pink fluid and broken glass as a thick plume of pink vapour gradually rose up to Whitney’s face. Before she realised what was going on, the Nymph inhaled.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me,” Karazelle sighed.

Whitney raised an eyebrow.

“Is this… are you making perfume down here?” she asked.

“Stop breathing it!”

“Why? What’s it gonna… duh… oh I see… you fuh… Whoretizz…”

She fell to her knees, her one visible eye dulling to a peculiar pink colour. Recognising the signs of aphrodisiac intoxication, Karazelle gave an irritated sigh and stepped over to the Nymph, grabbing her shoulders in an effort to pull her away from the spilled biohazard. Once at a safe distance, however, she suddenly reached up and pulled the Succubus down to her level, clinging tight to her as she stared into the middle distance.

What was it going to be this time? By now Karazelle had grown inured to the bizarre effects her potions had on people; whatever it was, she could handle it.

A moment of tense silence passed as Whitney hugged her tight, silently shaking.

“… You okay, Butterskin?” she asked quietly, patting the Nymph’s shoulder.

She responded by abruptly crying all down Karazelle’s back.

“That’ll be a no, then.”

The Succubus tried to stand up, but Whitney responded by clinging tighter to her and bawling as hard as she could, soaking her blazer through. While she was glad that she wasn’t going to have to deal with another Jelli situation, this was a little off-putting for a whole host of different reasons.

“I’m sorry~!” she wailed, her voice muffled by her clothes.

“Come on, Butterskin, that’s… what are you apologising for?” Karazelle sighed, patting her back.

Maybe if she helped her through… whatever this was… then she could get on with her day.

“I don’t know~!”

Well, there goes that idea.

Karazelle just knelt by the Nymph as she cried her little heart out, until her entire back was drenched. Despite the odd situation, it was a step in the right direction; at least her creations were getting closer to the intended effect of promoting personal peace and happiness. Right now they must just be intensifying whatever emotion the imbiber was quashing down. A little more fine-tuning, and it would be ready.

“Everyone hates me~” Whitney wailed.

“No they don’t.”

“Yes they do… They think I’m annoying…”

“For the love of- Right. C’mon, get up.”

Grabbing Whitney beneath the arms, Karazelle hoisted her to her feet and carried her over to the stool. She just hung there listlessly like a big ragdoll, eyes streaming as the Succubus propped her up in her seat.

“Now,” she sighed, planting her hands on her hips, “where’s this all coming from?”

Whitney sniffled and wiped her face, succeeding only in smearing tears all over her sleeve.

“… It’s stupid anyway… You’re gonna think I’m annoying, and-”

“I always think you’re annoying, Butterskin; that’s my job. Now out with it.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“… I said some really stupid things when Cobalt was at me house. Really, really, really stupid things.”

Karazelle’s face softened. The Brode estate had pulled out a lot of stops to try and keep that whole mess under wraps, but Charles Brode liked to blab at his wine socials, and because Viola Terna often moved in the same circles, the gory details eventually trickled down her perceptive daughter. Suffering an outburst of such a magnitude after losing an arm… It was honestly a miracle that Whitney turned out half as well as she did. Nobody but her and Cobalt are quite certain what went on within the storm of electricity that she summoned around her house, only that it was something serious.

“Oh honey…” Karazelle sighed, running a hand through the Nymph’s hair.

“I- I was just so scared and confused, and I did some things that I shouldn’t have. Just to hurt him. I- I’m so stupid…!”

“You were outbursting, Whitney. You weren’t operating at the peak of rationality. I’m sure he knows this.”

“But look how he’s been these past few weeks! What’s happened! He hates me, doesn’t he?!”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Grabbing both sides of her face, Karazelle brushed the hair out of the Nymph’s eyes and gazed deep into both of them. The tears were coming thick and fast; much higher in volume than they ought to have been. Her scleras were red, her pupils were pink and dilated, and there was a film of tears covering them that seemed to amplify her gaze tenfold.

“Cobalt adores you, Whitney.”

“How do you-?”

“Trust me. I know.”

She took a deep breath.

“Everything about you. Your sense of fashion. Your taste in music. Your funny little doodles. Your singing voice. The way you throw yourself into your guitar practice. The little stomps you do after lacing up your boots. Everything,” Karazelle told her.

Her cheeks burned red as her ears twitched. In all honesty, the Succubus didn’t know how much of this she was remembering from the Punishment Chamber and how much she was pulling from her own perception of the Nymph, but she kept going anyway.

“The way your eyes sparkle when you talk about the things you love. The little snorts you do when you laugh. The way your teeth shine in the sun whenever you smile. The twitches in your ears when you drink something. Every single thing, Whitney. No joke.”

“B- B- But-!”

“But nothing. I promise that whatever aspect of Whitney Brode you consider annoying is the pinnacle of endearment to that man.”

She blinked a few times, sending a cascade of tears down her cheeks.

“… Why…?” she breathed, her voice choking up.

Sighing, the Succubus pulled Whitney’s head into her chest and hugged her tight.

“Because that’s just the way he is. With all of us. I wouldn’t bother trying to question it; just know that no matter what, Cobalt…”

She felt her throat close up. Hearing the Incubus say those three words down there…

“… he cares about you. About us. A lot.”

Whitney didn’t answer. Instead, she just squeezed Karazelle tight. A few moments of silence passed between the two, punctuated only by the flickering of the lights and the humming of the generator.

“Hey. Why don’t you head on up to my room? Get comfortable, pull up a movie on my laptop, and stick some of that popcorn in the microwave. We can have a sleepover,” the Succubus suggested, patting the Nymph’s head.

Pulling back, she looked up into her eyes, looking almost surprised.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you too, you idiot. Now go on; I’ll be up in a minute.”

“… Okay…”

Wiping her nose on Karazelle’s shoulder – much to her annoyance – the Nymph slouched off the stool and slowly stumbled out of the underground lab, her footsteps echoing off the ancient stone corridors of the underschool. The Succubus just took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, waiting for her rampant heartbeat to get a hold of itself.

She understood why Cobalt had such words to say about the girls. Hell, she agreed with him for the most part.

But when she thought about the things he said about her… she felt like she didn’t deserve it.

Like she…

“Oh sugar… what the Hell are you doing to me…?”