From a seat across the room, a being not from this world watched the woman as she slept soundlessly in a state of deep unconsciousness. He tilted his head and his thumb came to brush across his lips as he continued to stare at her fragile frame on the bed. It had taken him a large amount of courage to bring the woman a visit. His guilt tortured him, imprisoned him and his shame was almost too destructive for his own good.<br/><br/>Comical self-loathing, he was ashamed of himself. He did nothing to stop them as they burned her skin, tore her clothes. Her flesh glistened under blood and sweat. Yet he simply sat through it, watched them as they abused her mentally, exposed her to intimidation physically and the more she resisted, the more they added to their torture, strangling her, beating her up, asking for what she could never give them.<br/><br/>She was innocent but he could not interrupt the things where he failed. He did not want her to go through the pain and that is why he did what he did to Fabiano that one night in the alley; so that she remains safe. If the soldier never got shot, they would never have requested backup, they would never have done to her what they did. And then, he would never have to stand there feeling helpless, enraged, when he could have done something.<br/><br/>Asmodeus still did not understand the way of the mortals the way he thought he did, and her sacrifice was necessary as he came to believe. He had to remain quiet. He had to watch. He could have exposed himself but the Fuhrer dominated his existence on earth. He was in the possession of not only a simple object such as a ring, but powers greater than that through his Seal.<br/><br/>Nothing was more wretched than the mind of a man conscious of guilt, even to a demon. For now, he was no more Oberstleutnant Erlind Kohler; he came to her as Asmodeus, and where he was to take her, there was no Nazi regime, no Germany, no war. No one to spy on them, no one to interrupt them, no one to do her harm. For once, he just wanted to be close enough to her to converse with her. They never had a chance to just speak. Shattered, she pushed him away at the clinic but he was understanding of her situation. She might pretty much do it all over again, but he would have lost nothing trying.<br/><br/>He forced himself to step aside from the chair, and move towards the bed where he sat near the sleeping form. He pondered to touch her hair, to feel the texture of the locks for the first time and so he did. He could wake her up, give her the energy to feel good once again, but Isolde needed that rest. Like a sleeping beauty she would sleep, unresponsive to her environment; not only for a night but for days, and nights. It is what she needed. Isolation from the physical world. A glimpse of something much more than the usual perception of her reality.<br/><br/>She needed a different version of that reality.<br/><br/>In a heartbeat, Asmodeus was one with her. His energy ran in her veins. What one would call a demonic possession, Asmodeus would call it 'mind-your-own-business'. He had used the last remaining energy source left in his materialized form to help her feel better in her sleep. He would need to vanish into the unknown to regenerate. It could take a week, it could take a year, it could take forever. That was a risk to take. If one was to overcome their sin by allowing the Holy Spirit to transform them from within, Asmodeus could pretty much do the same thing, and transform Isolde's unconsciousness into a safezone of some sort throughout her long, long sleep.<br/><br/>He locked her fears and doubts away and replaced them with a delightful excitement and feelings of hope and ecstasy. A quiet mind cureth all. He tested her brain activity and found out that she was in a deep REM stage, perfect enough for their transcending voyage into dreamland.<br/><br/>If Isolde was to wake up in her dream, she would find herself laying on dry white sand, sand warm enough to make one wish they could remain there forever. The sparkling sun rays delicately teased her bare legs, reaching through the fabric of her shirt to caress her flesh with comfortable heat. The glorious turquoise waters at her fingertips if she wished. Behind her, a breathtaking view of palm trees, lush vegetation and plants unknown to mankind decorated this isolated home.<br/><br/>His cerulean eyes bore into her soul as he came to lay beside her to her left. While she was on her back, Asmodeus turned on his right side and shifted his upper body up on his right elbow. One leg came to interlace with one of hers and his heart caught in his throat as he tensed. He drew a gentle yet strong hand down her right hip, along the top of her right leg, then between her inner thighs without venturing into the heat source. His hand paused there, lovingly stroking the inside upper portion of the thigh while his lips brushed up against the flesh of her neck.<span style="font-style: italic">“Wake up, Isolde.”</span>He whispered in her ear.