“Is something the matter?”

The fake concern in his voice sends you into a rage, and you want to lash out at him.

“Y-You-” Your voice quivers in disdain.

“Really now, if there’s a problem, you should tell me,” Solomon says, his voice teasing, clearly enjoying the way you’re struggling. “How am I to know what the issue is if you don’t say anything?”

You strain to reach for him, intent on wringing his neck—or well, you would if it weren’t for the restraints. Still, you manage to reach out a few inches, fingers curling around where his neck should be. You smile, although it’s more of a grimace—the knots are starting to slip, and you try again, reaching for the damned sorcerer, hoping the knots will come loose entirely.

“i swear to all the celestial beings, Solomon, if you don’t-” You stop again, another pained groan forcing its way out of you. “when I get free-” A shudder rolls over you, and you dig your nails into your palms hard enough to bleed.

“Should you really be invoking those names considering you’re here in Devildom?” Still smiling, he reaches towards you, tugging the blindfold back over your eyes. Your vision instantly becomes a field of black.

"And maybe if you diverted less of your focus to that insignificant group of brothers, you might have sensed my presence trailing you," he continues.

There’s a noise - no, several noises. Footsteps. The soft shuffling of fabric. He’s walking around you, circling. The obvious comparison of Solomon as predator comes to mind. And you… you’re bound, helpless. Easy prey. You swallow, nervously, tension rising in your body as you stiffen. You hate that you can’t see him, can’t try to guess as to what he might do.

A little louder now. You can feel his presence at your side, a hovering poltergeist.

Gentle fingertips brush over your fingers, trail over your palm and over the tiny cuts your nails have left there. He tsks, taps on your palm and you can imagine the faux-disappointed look on his face that soon morphs into a smug little smile.