[Open] The Forsaken World

[Merciless_Medic]

Kansif chuckled at the mention of being called a coward and shook her head. "No, I was merely meaning that you have more restraint than me. Judging by your body and size, I know that you can tear half that city apart without breaking a sweat. But, the place is filled with demons. I can feel their power drawing upon the people who live there." By the mention of Skoll, Hati, Fenrir, Odin, and Ragnarok, she looked at Hrafn puzzled. She didn't recognize them at all. Perhaps she came from a different realm that was more alien to Kansif than this realm? Maybe. If that realm has a setting sun and a moon, then it is more home than this infernal land. At the mention of them not worshipping gods but being them, the comments that were made back at the city made sense. No wonder why she was confused. When the mention of her claws came up, she smiled a very toothy grin before putting her hands away. She felt pretty proud and gave a hearty laugh that sounded like it came from deep within her toned feminine belly. Her claws were quite useful up until one of the nails gets broken off and she'd have to wait for it to grow back again.

 

Now on the last subject, she looked at her fairly puzzled. She did her best to relay the visions and message she received from Luthic, as she found a comfortable spot to sit down. She chose a swing, and found that it was quite comfortable, slowly swinging back and forth as she talked. Why weren't there any back at Faerun? She tested the chains with her hands by aggressively pulling them down before finding them adequate enough to keep swinging and letting her full body weight relax on it. She couldn't lean back, but it was perfect for what she had to begin with. Although, she found the chains odd. What were they made of? Iron? It didn't feel like iron, but maybe the metals here were different.

 

"Well, there is no sun and moon, but not for the reasons you gave. My goddess gave me a vision of this place, a quick rundown of what happened. Apparently, her powers were summoned here and she sent me to investigate. I thought it was going to be a quick trip that was going to take a day, but I see I'm going to be stuck here for far longer. I don't exactly know for how long, but anyway my goddess told me through a vision that this world was graced by darkness. It is always dark, not because of Ragnarok or whatever that is, but because of something else. Something else that is causing all these creatures to appear and become more common. Judging by how the humans have reacted, I'm assuming this hadn't been like this for very long, so they are still trying to get used to this. I don't think there are wolves who chase the sun and moon here. I believe the sun and moon vanished by some other means or a perpetual twilight graced these lands with its infernal hands, blocking the view of the sun and moon. Still though, I don't think I have ever seen this before. I'm but a little daunted at the advances these humans have made in their city. Hell, I don't even know what this thing I'm sitting on is made of or what it is even called."

 

After that ramble, she looked over at Hrafn and chuckled. "Hehe, whoops. Sorry for going on a rant. I tend to do so, especially when I talk about my war stories. Anyway, I'm a Half-Orc. Half Orc, half human. My father is a human and he won my mother's heart, who is the orc shaman who follows Gruumsh, the husband to my goddess. I have my own village to look after but since I won't be back, hopefully my family can run things for the time being." She sighed a little out of sadness and homesickness as she looked back up at the stars. She tried resting back, but found that she had forgotten there was no backing. To save herself from a comical fall, she used quite a bit of core strength to get herself upright and she sighed in relief. "Heh, almost ate dust." She got up and looked to Hrafn, determination in her eyes. "I still think we should find a way to get in. Whoever summoned us here summoned us for a reason. Maybe this twilight can be reversed."

[Lycanious]

Vaz emitted a hum of approval, but didn’t dwell on the matter any further than that. She may not have been fallen, but she did spare Vaz from what was likely to be an otherwise miserable encounter with Malvorin’s puppet. The least they could do was be sighted with her enough to convince any other passing entity that they’d have to deal with one of their contracts before an overriding offer could be made.

 

After asking more about Jorath’s questionable survivability, Vaz rolled their eyes and grumbled under breath.

“I’ve asked myself that before, occasionally to his face. Jorath works in a similar business as mine, securing souls for those with a lot of power but very little time. But where as some of us are meticulous and actually remember where they put important paperwork, there are others that just don’t and it’s so...so...”

Vaz pinched the bridge of their nose and exhaled loudly, trying to dispel the rambling, unhelpful rant they were managing to work themselves into. It had been a long night.

 

“...He’s a delightful individual, really. You’ll probably end up liking him more than me once you’ve met him. I just wish he’d be more careful in this line of work. Doris is little more than a glorified thug we’ve had the displeasure of encountering once or twice, but there’s far worse to draw the ire from out there.”

Vaz dropped their hands to their sides again, frowning as they tried to tune their mind to the demon’s in question. Vaz had seen them eat before, so they were apparently corporal enough to have to tend to some mortal aspects and habits. Perhaps he was back at the food court he’d apparently been chased out of? Or would they just prefer somewhere quiet and unassuming, safely tucked out of view of the wrath demon?

 

“...I suspect that wherever he’s found himself, it’s in the opposite direction from Doris. There’s a quieter set of streets up ahead, bordering a quaint little park. I’ve wandered through once or twice and it seems rather devoid of human activity. If I had to make a guess, I’d say we start with anywhere that has a healthy supply of snacks or looks like a good hiding spot and work from there.”

Edited May 7, 2020 by Lycanious
Slight wording change for clarity.

[ValidEmotions]

She nodded once, thinking about the information given. "So, then, you have worked with him before." Something plucked at her thoughts, searching for the words to give it proper form. "Yes... I thought moving away from Doris was a fair starting assessment." Almost idly, she motioned with her hand to gesture slightly back and to the side. "He hasn't left the area where we first encountered Doris. If Jorath knows how to survive well despite the mistakes he seems to make so frequently, he's not likely to be near him. The only problem lies if Doris is between us and our sought-for demon." 

 

Argia followed Vaz's suggestion for the park. If Jorath wasn't there, perhaps she could use the silent area as a safe space to discover what she could do in this world? Maybe there was something other than that muted anger waiting for her attention. 

 

At last, words shaped some of the thoughts that had surfaced. "Vaz, Doris spoke about not recognizing my aura. What is that? And, if Doris sensed something from me, do you know what Jorath's is?" Was there a way she could use Vaz's knowledge of Jorath's aura in a similar manner as she could use lifelines? If Doris was in want of a 'seeker' to find Jorath, maybe auras couldn't be detected from a distance. She wasn't certain, but it seemed something worthy of trying. 

 

The streets became less and less populated, as Vaz mentioned. "How is your wound?" she asked, glancing at them. Should she inquire about the feathers? Her companion seemed tense earlier whenever this Fall was mentioned, but perhaps that was more due to the misunderstandings at the time. Still, the prospect hesitated in her throat. Best to wait for another time when less pressing matters were before them. 

Edited May 7, 2020 by ValidEmotions
Found more to add :V

[RavenWolf1010]

Gabriel turned from the raptor and stared at the out held jacket. Then she looked up at Jorath as if she were going to say another snide comment. Instead she gingerly took the jacket and dropped her eyes. "Thank you." Maybe, just maybe, she had been too abrasive. He is the first demon she had met after all who had ever not tried to kill her on sight. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Like she hadn't heard that one a thousand times. "Uh... you know in order to wear this comfortably I'm going to have to..." she made a slicing motion in the back of the fabric. "For my wings..."

The raptor called to her and she momentarily turned. "Safe nest? No, my apartment was discovered and now I do not have a place to lay low." Danger may come. To who? She looked back to Jorath. It was probably the both of them, she just wondered if it could have been because he was helping her. Her concerned look turned into a scowl. He's strong enough to take care of himself though. They are essentially ruling this world after all.

But all that could change with just a few words.

Silence. I won't keep hearing of this. 

 

----

 

She watched curiously as she went to one of the swings and sat down. Kansif seemed unsure of its' strength in supporting her but after some testing decided it was strong enough. As she spoke, the wolf sat down nearby and listened intently. No wolves that chased the sun and moon? No wonder why she did not sense her family. That means I really am all alone here. She swallowed a mournful howl and looked to Kansif. "I believe it is a swing. Albeit it is a much more advanced one from the one I last saw. Most of the time they are made from wood and rope. Not chains and... whatever else it is." She got up and went to sniff the seat of the swing (regrettably). Aside from all the other smells what the seat was made of was new to here. "Interesting," she said as she listened to her explain what she was. "I have seen many creatures but never an Orc." A few questions lingered but she thought it best and probably most appropriate if they were left unasked. "Getting in can't be too hard right?" Hrafn turned and looked back at the city. "It's pretty big and always dark here, we just have to find the right spot."

 

[AlexisV]

[Near Gabriel and Jorath]

 

Askee-ah waited for Gabriel and Jorath to finish thier exchange. She eyed Gabriel's wings, made a small noise of consideration to herself like a tiny growl, but figured that Gabriel was likely too tired to fly. In Askee-ah's oldest memories, tired fliers were easy prey, and there was no telling whether what hunted them could fly too. Besides, she couldn't work out a way to say "let me know if you can fly." The only native word she had concerning fliers was a danger call. Humans talked about flying sometimes but she'd never seen one do it, and didn't really believe they could. This particular situation hadn't come up before.

 

Askee-ah scratched the ground with one foot, made two loud clicks with her throat and jaws, and swept her head in the direction she was going.

 

("Follow, I will lead.")

 

She set off at a quick walk, glancing behind her now and then to make sure Gabriel was keeping up.

 

Her nearest nest wasn't far away, but she needed to take much a longer route than normal to avoid busy areas where they might draw unwanted attention, while still allowing Gabriel to keep up.

 

She turned to Gabriel as she paused to consider the route ahead, and dipped her head, flashed both sides of her muzzle, and gave a short trilling call at the same time as she scratched the ground with her right foot.

 

("Where do you come from? What sort of being are you?") 

 

She had asked in a way that meant one or the other or both in a single question. Humans liked to talk while they traveled, perhaps Gabriel would too.

 

 

[Elsewhere in the city]

 

Askee-ah woke in her nest high above the display cases of the natural history museum.

 

The museum was open now. Several of her human packmates were here in what amounted to a devotional capacity, peering at the fossils and informational tags and imagining a world and creatures long gone, and some not so long gone.

 

One of them was the museum's senior security guard, who always made sure the back door was unlocked for her. She could sense him keeping watch over the visitors and displays, always alert and aware, yet relaxed to be at his most perceptive. Askee-ah appreciated his almost raptor-like mannerism. (In addition to fossils the museum housed a small wing of rare ancient human artifacts. These were occassionally the target of cult activity and vandalism, so the need for alertness from the security guards was real.)

 

And the other visitors in the hall were rarely unawed by the display of enourmous dinosaur bones. The proximity of both types of humans gave Askee-ah a pleasant wash of belief, fresh and alive-seeming like the air after a lightning storm.

 

The three raptors untangled themselves from thier cozy heap and crouched in the dark, taking amused pleasure at being quiet enough not to spook the humans below as they stretched and groomed each other, and thought about what to do with thier "day."

 

Askee-ah's upper lip bared a little at that thought. Someone needed to right that imbalance, to bring back the dawn. And she wasn't the "right" being to do that, but perhaps none in this world were.

 

The two somewhat-mortal raptors wished to go explore the city and patrol with thier kin staying under the overpass, she made no objection to this. This vessel of hers was far away from where she had left Argia and Vaz anyway, and there was something she wanted to do before finding thier trail again.

 

A higher part of her mind was always aware of each of her raptor vessels and thier proximity to each other, as naturally as existing and breathing. It took her no effort to find the raptor nearest to her intended goal, perched on an apartment block that was a frequent target of extortion-minded demons who didn't yet know better.

 

And indeed, not far away was the fresh scent of two demons.

 

The nearby raptor hopped across the rooftops and ran a steel tightrope over to listen to them.

 

A powerful demon in stylish and slightly eccentric dark purple was berating a slightly smaller one dressed like a cheap insurance salesman. The small one hissed and bluffed like a hunter trying to convince itself and others that it was not afraid for being unwilling to face danger

 

Askee-ah sniffed. It was one she had chased and scared off from somewhere long ago, she couldn't remember if it was from this building or not.

 

The larger demon wasn't having any of it. It broke into human language, out if frustration or an attempt at mockery. "There ARE no rivals here, can't you feel that? Have you gone totally mortal? Malvorin will NOT be pleased if you let this one go!" It snarled and spat a final curse. The smaller demon's composure broke for a moment, showing a shiver of fear.

 

Askee-ah lashed her tail like an expectant cat. It was right to be afraid.

 

The larger demon stalked off, and the smaller slunk into the shadows, nearing the building with what it might have thought was a hunter's hidden grace, but wasn't far off from the slinking fear of prey trying to hide.

 

That raptor waited for the other from the museum to reach it. She stalked up a narrow alley, hidden behind a large stinking dumpster that would confuse her scent well enough to get close, very close...

 

The demon leaned against a corner, peering up at the lighted windows of the building Askee-ah guarded.

 

It watched for a long time, breath tense, trying to calm itself. At last it felt sure enough of itself to keep going. And then it heard a noise just behind it, jumping a little. It looked back to reassure itself that there was nothing there, and screamed like the star actress of a slasher film (Askee-ah quite enjoyed those movies) as it caught sight of a raptor with teeth bared and claws outstretched, leaping over the dumpster just behind it.

 

It ran.

 

Askee-ah chased, angling around it and chasing it to the alley where the other raptor waited.

 

She pounced, grabbing claws full of the demon's cheap suit jacket and shredding it.

 

The demon fled as fast as its meagre supernatural speed could boost it, shedding guises and glamors that hid its horns and tail. Comically tiny wings burst from its jacket and beat frantically as it ran, the two raptors in close pursuit as it blundered into an arterial and was nearly run over by several cars.

 

Horns and tires and the demon's voice screeched. The two raptors scaled a traffic light post and ran across the outstretched beam, the heavy light pendants bobbing and waving.

 

The first raptor pounced and flattened the demon, them leapt aside as headlights swept across it and a horn blared.

 

They let the demon run on, stupidly, into a more secluded area and then trip down a drainage ditch.

 

The hunt from there was a short one.

Edited May 7, 2020 by AlexisV
Italics

[Lycanious]

“Auras? That one’s a tricky one...”

Despite recent revelations, Vaz found it was still surprisingly comfortable to spout off all these little bits of information they’d gleaned over the centuries in front of her. Perhaps it was her genuine intrigue that allowed for it, most others either told Vaz to shut up or cut to the chase after a few sentences. Vaz always found that a bit puzzling though, what exactly did people expect from a knowledge demon?

 

But none-the-less, it was a pleasant concept. Once they’d found a way to chase off Malvorin they would have to have a chat over that lengthy brunch that had been promised earlier. Jorath could even pay for the jam tarts he’d inadvertently cost them.

 

 “I’d define them as a sort of mark that tells you more about an individual.”

 Began Vaz once more, eyes glazing a little as they sifted through the semi-metaphorical files of their mind.

“But I suspect that the way it works for everyone is a bit different. I remember two clients bickering once over whether mine had flecks of gold in it, but I knew a seeker that would always describe people as having a distinctive smell instead.”

 

At her prompt the thought did cross their mind over whether such a thing would help them hone in on Jorath, but Vaz tended to have to be within talking distance before they could even try to glimpse such things. Their ability was mostly a passive one anyway, a vague concept that would scribble itself onto a new page in the Compendium and wait for Vaz to read over it later.

“I’m not sure how you’d perceive Jorath’s, if indeed you’d perceive it at all. I suppose as both demons we’d have some similarities between us though...so...if you sense anything similar to me, let me know?”

 

When the recent injury was mentioned Vaz rolled their shoulders a little, trying to decipher the state of their wing as much as possible without drawing it out.

“The joint seems fine. I think he’s just opened up an older wound and broken some feathers. Don’t worry about it too much.”

[ValidEmotions]

Jorath

 

He shrugged at Gabriel's comment. "Doesn't bother me; a jacket's fixable."

 

As conversation shifted to a "safe nest" of sorts, Jorath took a step back and gave a flourish of a bow to the two beings. It probably looked oddly formal, contrasted with his tank top and jeans. "Well, it's been a pleasure, but I believe this is where I shall take my leave. Gabriel, when you want to talk some more about the power you seek, let me know. I'll find you or you'll find me." He started stepping away but paused after a moment. "Oh, and, don't forget your sword." Something had to have caused that stranger's sliced coat and it hadn't gone unnoticed by Jorath earlier when Gabriel jerked to reach for an object that wasn't there. 

 

Leaving the alley, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, he let the easy expression on his face fall away once the other two were at his back. The chips hadn't been enough. He'd known that, of course, but he had still hoped they would last longer than they did. Jorath ignored the returning tension in his back and grit his teeth against the ache that echoed in his left leg. When had been the last time? Some weeks ago? No. It had to be just around when the world lost its dawn. Except, that felt wrong, too. He really should consider keeping a calendar, or something, to track it. Had to be only a couple months back. 

 

Jorath turned his head slightly but quickly, cracking the joints of his neck and attempting to alleviate the stiffness. 

 

After the seclusion of the alleyway, he nearly wasn't ready to be surrounded by humans again. His feet carried him there, though, and he stopped as he recognized the area with all its stores and food options. A frown made itself at home on his lips. Ditraxol could still be nearby. Some of Malvorin's better demons knew more about Jorath than he was comfortable with. It was how he wound up making such a risky bargain in the first place. It meant he needed to go another direction.

 

Picking something at random, Jorath moved at a slightly faster pace than he needed to or should have. The occasional human or two looked in his direction as he brushed past them.

 

"Hey, sweetie. Where you in a rush to?" Jerking to a halt, Jorath stared at the woman before him. Her lips were painted pink and her brunette hair fell in a waterfall of waves upon her shoulders. She smiled at him, brown eyes soft. "You okay, hun? You look stressed about something."

 

Shaking his head, he lifted a hand to carefully grab her shoulder and move her aside. He thought better of it and twisted his body, instead. "I'm fine. Thank you," he replied, looking away from her.

 

She grabbed his wrist, then his hand. The contact warmed his skin. "You're cold as ice! Come on, let's get you inside and warm. Whatever's troubling you, I'm sure it can get worked out once you're not so exposed."

 

Admittedly, he hadn't felt any of the cold; he typically didn't and just wore a jacket for the aesthetic. Jorath's skin, however, was growing hotter beneath the human's touch. "Miss, please." His pulse quickened.

 

His mouth was starting to water.

 

Jorath worked his hand free from the woman's grasp, stepping back immediately and keeping his arms close to his body. "Look, I don't know you. I don't need anything, I promise. I'm just trying to get from point A to point B without a hitch. Alright?"

 

She laughed, though her eyes seemed sad. "Aren't we all, dear?" 

 

Oh, she is going to get eaten alive in this world. The thought pained Jorath faintly. He ran his hand down his face, feeling the remnants of the heat that had bloomed in his skin. And it'll be my fault entirely....

 

He threw the thought away and tightly folded his arms across his chest. No. It wasn't happening. He'd gone this long without much issue--he could keep pushing it longer. The human was speaking but Jorath ignored her word, moving and stepping around her so he could put her at his back. Eventually, her voice faded from his attention and, when he looked, she was gone. A breath escaped his lungs; he hadn't even realized he'd been holding it in. 

 

Worse, still, he didn't know which way he had been traveling. Glancing at his surroundings, his pulse continued to race, silver threading beneath his skin. The streets were empty. Crap....

 

They grabbed him by the back of his neck and pitched him into the pole of a streetlight before he could register the aura. Flesh and bone collided with solid metal, causing both to ring and vibrate. The air fled from Jorath's lungs, leaving with a short cry before he collapsed to the ground.

 

"Jorath! Yitaak reikaar o Malvorin." Dark boots belonging to the speaker stopped in front of his face.

 

Gasping for air, Jorath grunted as he gathered his hands and knees beneath him. "Hello, Ditraxol," he coughed out. "Hatloge o Malvorin plixnam nil plisht." That earned him a kick in the stomach, tossing him onto his other side. Jorath used the momentum to get back onto his feet, staggering faintly until he caught his balance. He watched the wrath demon and rolled his shoulders.

 

Ditraxol grinned, revealing sharpened teeth. "You going to run again?"

 

"Actually," Jorath began. "Yes." He jumped as Ditraxol charged, dodging sideways. He grabbed Ditraxol's arm as the demon stumbled past, a growl rising from his chest as he used the other's speed against him and slammed Ditraxol into the side of a building. Brick crunched beneath the impact. With the wrath demon upside down and scrambling to his feet, Jorath fled down the otherwise quiet streets. He could fight the wrath demon but, with the continuous tension in his back, Jorath couldn't risk it. At least not in the city. Still, he could pull on a bit more from his Realm, allowing him to scale the next lightpost and jump across to a rooftop. He heard Ditraxol shout after him and metal rend.

 

The crushed-up arm of a street light sailed through the air to his right, nearly clipping his arm, and tumbled across the asphalt. Jorath inhaled sharply, glancing behind his shoulder only for a second before looking ahead and jumping to the next roof. If he kept going, he could cut through the park some streets ahead and lead Ditraxol out of the city where they could avoid anything remotely human. 

 

Argia

 

"I perceive with lifelines. I don't know if that makes them like these auras you detect." Argia mused over the contrast. "Probably not, if gold flecks are a thing?" That wasn't adequate enough. How to explain it? "I can feel your beginning and several transitions since then. I should be able to feel your end, as well, but I've already explained that I cannot. It is like touching rope, though I suppose yours feels more like the feather of a quill. Or maybe silk. Doris's lifeline is... rough and prickly." 

 

Now that she lingered on it, she realized there were differences after all. Before, she hadn't given it thought. Maybe because humans all had largely similar sensations to their lifelines. But Vaz and Doris's were thoroughly different in essence. 

 

She stopped walking, something disturbing her. "Vaz, there are lifelines at this park of yours." They didn't feel human so, without Doris in the same place, she couldn't figure out how to identify them. Argia looked back over her shoulder, scanning the vacant street. Her gaze drifted to their right. "Doris is coming this way." She frowned. "And I think I have discovered Jorath's lifeline."

 

[[Whoa. Whoops xD Anyways! Jorath's just gonna... keep going... :V Everybody to the park! If you want, that is lol]]

Edited May 7, 2020 by ValidEmotions

[RavenWolf1010]

Gabriel watched Jorath bow with an mixed expression on her face, a mix between confusion and amusement. "Noted, well thank you again." When he brought up her sword she cursed and looked to Askee-ah. "My sword... I must've dropped it somewhere around here while I was trying to escape." Before she was able to simply call it back to her yet with the state she was in she wasn't sure if it would still work. "veni ad me."  She closed her eyes and waited a few moments. When she opened them there was still nothing. "It might take some time for it to find its way to me." The angel explained as they continued to walk. Until she could cut slits for her wings she draped the jacket over the front of her and her shoulder. It ached still but it had nearly closed. It was sure to leave a nasty scar. She only struggled a bit to keep up with the raptor as she walked and was grateful when she stopped so she could catch up. "What am I?" The question kind of surprised her, most things that dwelled in this realm long enough knew what she was with one look. Though to be fair she wasn't much of what she used to be anymore. Then she hesitated telling Askee-ah. Was it a good idea? Would she cast her out once she knew? Surely she would find out sooner or later. "I'm an angel." Gabe finally said with some hesitation. "An archangel if you want to get specific." If Askee-ah knew about angels she wondered if she would even believe her after seeing how weak she is. 

Edited May 7, 2020 by RavenWolf1010

[AlexisV]

Askee-ah sent a mental note to her higher mind, to have her raptors try to pick up Gabriel's scent and find this "sword" she was missing. Askee-ah wasn't quite sure what it was, "sword" was normally a kind of very sharp metal claw, but the way Gabriel spoke of it finding its way back to her, maybe in this case it was a symbiotic species like the pets humans kept?

She considered Gabriel's words. She had heard humans talk about angels, and made a connection quickly to pictures and stone figures of winged humans she's seen.  Ah, that's what they are.

 

Humans regarded them as guardian-beings like herself, with the sense that they were mythical rather than having real flesh and blood forms like Askee-ah did. And there had been a few words and muttered ideas of angels being gone from the world. 

 

She remembered a small side passage that would allow them to continue and started walking again, a little more slowly this time. 

 

She considered Gabriel as they walked. A supernaturally powerful, but definitely physical being like herself, one that looked tired and lost.

 

Askee-ah flicked a claw, waved her tail and trill-chirped.

 

("You must be far from your home territory.")

 

A thought, both happy and dark occured to her suddenly. After all, humans made pictures and small figures of dinosaurs too... She dipped her head, cocked it, and made a low, harsh, drawn out sound.

 

("Was your species extinct?")

 

She continued with a musical sort of trill, bounced from one foot to the other, and left her mouth open for a momeny before repeating the low call, less drawn out this time.

 

("Humans thought of me and brought me back from death.")

 

She dipped her head twice and clicked. 

 

("Maybe you too.")

Edited May 8, 2020 by AlexisV
Italics, text formatting bug

[Lycanious]

“It’s...a unique variant, I’ll give you that.”

Pondered Vaz, practically beaming beneath the scarf at her description of their lifeline.

“I like the sound of mine though. No end, just the branches of a feather. Full of all sorts of possibilities and choices.”

 

They paused at the mention of more lifelines, now unsure about the park that lay ahead of them. The growing concern that Doris was around made them want to continue forward, but there was no guarantee that these denizens of the park weren’t also working for Malvorin. At least with Doris, Vaz had some idea of who they were dealing with. The announcement of a possible Jorath being thrown into the mix earned a raised eyebrow, but made the decision for Vaz. Shaking their head, they tuned their ears to the sounds of crushed metal and guttural voices in the distance and motioned for Argia to follow.

 

As they paced closer to the noise, a shimmer rippled across Vaz’s face. From the top of their forehead two horns sprouted into view, jutting forward before elegantly curving up towards the sky. They curled slightly inwards too, the ends jagged and uneven, as though at one point they were connected in a single arch that had broken. It was an involuntary reaction, Vaz wasn’t even aware they were on display until they turned to make sure Argia had her blade at the ready and felt the extra weight in the motion. 

 

Confounded horns. Argia might not have understood the significance but any demon that crossed their path would recognise their appearance as a cautious, defensive response. Vaz groaned internally but let them remain in view, unwilling to expend the additional effort they would need to keep concealing them right now. At least it made them feel more comfortable in their skin, so to speak.

 

The cacophony of shouts and crunching metal was growing louder and Vaz grimaced at the hypothetical images that played in their mind over exactly what was happening the next street over. A tail had at some point materialised along with the horns, long and whip-like as it arched over Vaz’s injured shoulder like a scorpion and hovered protectively above it. It was tipped with a sharp and gleaming arrowhead shape, and the way Vaz held it suggested that it would make ‘Doris’ second-guess charging blindly charging them. Maybe. That was the current plan, anyway.

 

Vaz hadn’t yet spotted Jaroth, but judging from the colourful language and gestures being made towards the sky by Doris as he lumbered into view, he was lurking somewhere on the rooftops.

“I wouldn’t bother with him, my dear.”

Called Vaz, waving for Doris’ attention as he stewed with rage at the end of the street.

“Believe me, whatever contracts you’re hoping to score off of his remains are just going to be nonsensical and covered in half-chewed crisps.”

[AlexisV]

It took Askee-ah some time and much determined searching, but she found that she'd strangely enough been fairly correct in both her ideas about Gabriel's sword.

 

It was wedged tightly between bars halfway up a decaying fire escape, and was indeed a sharp metal claw like she remembered, or more like a long straight branch with the broken segments of two smaller branches sticking out of it.

 

It was also alive, and very angry.

 

Askee-ah had poked and nipped at it carefully as she balanced halfway between a window ledge and the railing, tail askew for balance.

Her jaws closed on the handle as she tried to tug it free.

 

WHAT ARE YOU

 

A blazing, brassy voice rang in her head. She tightened her killing claw around the railing and clutched at the bars with her foreclaws in sudden effort not to fall off.

 

She stared at the sword and bared her teeth, feeling silly. It wasn't breathing and definitely didn't look or smell alive.

 

She closed her jaws carefully around the handle again, tasting salt and sweat. Nothing.

 

She tried to tug it free from where it was stuck.

 

YOU ARE NOT ONE OF THE HOST. YOU SHALL NOT WIELD ME

 

The voice crashed and clanged in her mind.

 

"I will not!" Askee-ah snarled, stubbornly contesting with the voice and refusing to let go. "I will return you."

 

YOU ARE A SERVANT OF THE HOST?

 

Askee-ah could barely hear her own thoughts inside her head, but she decided it was a bad time to assert that it was sort of the other way around at the moment, though she would have used a much more equal term like "packmate."

 

"I know your keeper." She mumbled and huffed, and growled and hissed for breath as she tried to get leverage on the handle.

 

YOU WILL CARRY ME TO HER

 

The sword snapped free with a sharp sound, more of its own accord than from her efforts. Several cut peices of steel railing clattered and rang on the ground below.

 

Askee-ah held the sword handle awkwardly in her jaws, and tilted her head to look up. She started to climb and the handle shifted, putting painful leverage on her teeth as she tried to manuever and not drop it or cut herself. She worked her neck and jaws and tried to jam the handle against the back of her mouth, but the length of the sword tangled against the fire escape's support structure a few feet later.

Askee-ah growled and tried to tilt her head to manuever the awkward thing around the steel strap-

 

AWKWARD? THE GLORY OF THE HEAVENS IS AWKWARD TO YOU?

 

Askee-ah shut her eyes and waited for the clanging echoes of the sword's scolding to die down in her mind. She contemplated letting sword drop and leaving it there.

 

I WAS WITH THE LIGHT AND THE GLORY MILLENIA BEFORE YOUR KIND WALKED THE EARTH, ANIMAL

 

Strangely, this didn't dissuade her from wanting to spit out the sword handle.

 

 AH. I WILL MAKE YOU A WORTHY SERVANT.

 

Askee-ah had only a moment to worry about what that meant before the sword melted and slithered, like a very fluid snake, out of her mouth and around her neck. It clung to her skin like rainwater, she shivered and smacked herself against the wall in reflexive panic as the metal crawled across her.

 

BE STILL. The sword commanded. It slithered down her forelimbs and legs, around the base of her neck, and up over her head between her brows. Then it was still. She sniffed and shook her head, but the metal stayed firmly affixed. She caught sight of her claws, they were wrapped in shining, very sharp looking metal.

 

She tried to lift a claw and examine it, but it stayed firmly stuck to the railing.

 

NOW YOU WILL CARRY ME TO HER

 

Of thier own (or the sword's) accord, Askee-ah's limbs started to carry her downward.

 

She hissed and made unhappy sounds as the sword's command nearly overbalanced and let go at the wrong moment, some seventy feet above the very hard concrete below. The metal at the base of her neck tightened threateningly.

 

BE QUIET ANIMAL. THE LIGHT AND THE GLORY OUTLASTS DEATH.

 

That was not very reassuring. Askee-ah didn't fear one of her vessels dying in the conventional sense but she still avoided it on the basis that it was usually an awfully unpleasant expirience.

 

The sword got her to the ground at last, and struck out toward the rather busy sidewalk at the end of the alley.

 

Askee-ah growled unhappily and tried to tug herself free of the sword's direction, without success.

 

DO NOT FEAR. THE SYMBOL I MARKED YOU WITH PROCLAIMS YOU A HOLY MESSENGER, NONE SHALL TRY TO HARM YOU.

 

Askes-ah doubted quite a lot that the sword knew what it was talking about, but she didn't have much choice...

 

((Hope you don't mind my interpretation of Gabriel's sword having a (somewhat overzealous) personality when left to its own devices.))

Edited May 8, 2020 by AlexisV
Text formatting bug

[ValidEmotions]

Argia

 

Following at Vaz's direction, Argia's gaze drifted to their head as a pair of horns began to take form. She faltered a step at the suddenness of it, but quickly found Vaz's eyes as they glanced back at her. Of course. The horns made sense. Though, she would have to ask after why they seemed damaged. Part of her thought it might be a sensitive matter.

 

There was noise ahead, where she knew Doris and another to be. Atropos came to her hand, blade gleaming from the light of a lamppost. She had expected to wield her scythe. That the broadsword had been brought forth was a perplexing matter. Will there be no death today? Her gaze returned to Vaz's back, a tail now in existence. Or is is that I do not want death to take place? Even despite her supposed assurance to Doris that he would get his revenge. 

 

The wrath demon was in sight and Vaz called over to him. His head turned instantly, eyes darkening and sharp teeth peeking from under a snarl. "You again. Your seeker is useless. I found Jorath without her. Malvorin will have the traitor's head and no less. Do not interfere."

 

"What is it that Jorath has done to warrant death?" Argia questioned, the words leaving faster than she could silence them. 

 

Doris rounded on her, snarl turning into a humorless grin. "That does not concern you. Now, be wise and speak no more."

 

She frowned, chin lifting just a fraction, and took a step forward until she stood more at Vaz's side than behind them. "You involved me when you desired me to find the demon for you. I will not let you have him without knowing the sides that are at play."

 

Doris tossed his head back and laughed, a harsh sound that seemed more like clashing gears than anything pleasant. In another moment, it ceased abruptly and Doris bore his gaze upon Vaz. "What sort of stray have you picked up this time, Vazithrazuul? I'd teach her manners, quick, if I were you. She knows not when she steps out of line."

 

Jorath

 

He hunkered down, finding modest shelter behind an abandoned Pigeon roost to catch his breath as Ditraxol found one large object after another to launch at the rooftops. He'd have thought the wrath demon would be agile enough to climb the buildings but, it appeared not. More fortune to Jorath, then. Panting, he growled beneath his breath as his skin crawled and tension shifted through his muscles. Too much adrenaline. Far too much. Near every bone in his body felt as if it were pressing against his skin, as if his skeleton was too large for its container. Jorath worked out his jaw, stretching it at somewhat strange angles in an attempt to release the pressure. Not much good. 

 

Turning, he leaned to look around the roost, taking notice of the lessened noise. He strained his ears, trying to listen on something that was out of reach. Giving up, he pressed his back against the roost, head tapping against old wood. Horn scraped against rotted bedding. He expected that. Tilting his head forward, he reached his hands along the dark bone that sprouted from his temples, stretching back where it branched off in two and curved. The nesting material had snagged on the shorter branch of the left horn, tangling in the iron chains that connected both sets. The links clattered against his ears. 

 

Bird nest dislodged, Jorath pressed his hands against the asphalt covering the roof, watching the silver that slithered in his skin. A low throb found its way into his bones, the ache in his leg worsening still. Keep it together... Was he afraid of Ditraxol? Absolutely. No sense in lying about it. No matter how much he figured he could take Ditraxol in a fight. He'd done it before and survived. Hell. He faced off others in a similar tier and came out--mostly--okay each time. This shouldn't be any different.

 

He heard Ditraxol laugh.

 

Jorath sat straighter, stiffening. There were more auras, not just the wrath demon's. And he recognized the inky one that rustled like old parchment, gold flecks sparking. But who was the burst of dark color and embers with them? Jorath rushed to his feet, sneaker slipping against the asphalt from the movement. "No. No, no..." he whispered, breath hitching in his throat. He sprinted for the ledge of the roof, feeling the tension in his back split and the fabric of his tank top rip as protrusions erupted along his spine. He didn't have wings as many other demons had. Not anymore. They had long since been sheared in half, the remnants folded over and clasped together with yet more chains, stitched against his back. 

 

He skidded to a halt at the ledge, peering down at Ditraxol, Vazithrazuul, and the third individual. Of course, Ditraxol would drag them into this. Jorath's fault. Jumping over the ledge and dropping down to the sidewalk, Jorath absorbed the impact in his knees with the ringing of chains. "Ah, Vazithrazuul," he started, grabbing both Ditraxol and the woman's attentions simultaneously. "Didn't expect to see you today, Handsome. You look striking as ever. Who's your friend?" He walked as he spoke, edging his way to put himself between Ditraxol's rage and his friend. 

 

From the corner of his eye, he could see the woman's face shift subtly, her black eyes examining him up and down. He winked at her, to which she frowned and stared beyond him. Presumably at Ditraxol.

Edited May 8, 2020 by ValidEmotions

[Lycanious]

Vaz stood tall and at the ready as the wrath demon turned to face the duo, tail flickering in a vaguely beckoning matter. 
“We will speak, and do, as we please, Surely you know better than to threaten a zuul with obedience, of all things.”

Their stance remained proud, but Vaz silently cursed themself at the catch in their voice. They’d hoped Doris would miss it, but judging by the widening grin that was etching its way onto his face they could sense every little tremor Vaz was trying to suppress-

 

Ah, Vazithrazuul.

 

Shoulders sagged in relief at the soft clinking of chains and the familiar voice that accompanied them, even if Vaz suspected it was mocking their habit of filling the spaces between words with ‘ah’ and ‘erm’ a lot. Amber eyes locked on to the movement of the new arrival, studying their mannerisms briefly in the hopes that ‘Doris’ hadn’t managed to land a swing on them yet.

 

“Ah, L’antiira, how nice of you to join us. Enjoying an evening jog are we?”

Replied Vaz, lips twitching ever so slightly into a grimace as they caught sight of the protrusions along his back. The tail coiled further forward as Jorath swaggered between them and Ditraxol, it’s seemingly endless length allowing it to now hover somewhere to the side of the prideful demon’s head, blade pointed at the spot between Ditraxol’s eyes. 

 

“My friend?”

A plan started to form in Vaz’s mind, as Jorath provided them with a convenient segue. It was a stretch, but if they could pull it off perhaps they could avoid more zuul’ikaar tonight.

 

“Why, this is the Cold Witch, Jorath.”

Announced Vaz, suddenly perking up as though they’d been begging for the opportunity to introduce her to everyone. The demon side-stepped around Jorath to line up beside them and aimed a melodramatic flourish towards Argia, smugness now plastered on their gaunt features.

“Very powerful, you see. Some even call her the Stealer of Light.”

Vaz continued with a purr, holding a long, meaningful gaze towards the murky sky above them. They tilted their head back towards Doris with a raised eyebrow, as though daring them to challenge what they said on the matter.

“Very powerful. To swallow the sun itself. Would you not agree my dear?”

 

“And of course...”

They continued without waiting for an answer, for what else could they do but ramble in times of distress.

“...As Vazithrazuul themself, you are both quite aware I’m unwilling, nay, physically incapable of lying about such things.”

Vaz eyed Doris cautiously, hoping that their little speech wasn’t falling on deaf, uninterested ears as they semi-successfully ignored the dull ache in their shoulder and clasped their hands behind their back.

 

“But go on. Tell the lovely thief of light itself to shut up again. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to show you how she earned such names.”

Edited May 8, 2020 by Lycanious

[RavenWolf1010]

The angel could feel her face getting warm from her uneasiness. She took the jacket and flipped it over her shoulder and let the cool air hit her skin. Did she ever used to feel these human sensations and emotions? It was always so easy to stay calm, cool, and collected before. Along with becoming more mortal could she also be becoming more human overall? She loved humans but that didn't mean she wanted to be one. With all their constant struggles and woes it was just unappealing. She knew war, fighting, and unimaginable strength. If she did actually become human she wouldn't know the first thing of how to be one. Pushing the thought away she ran her good hand through her dark blonde hair. Usually it was neatly braided but now it was thrown up in a messy ponytail. Had it not been for Askee-ah's calls she likely would've missed her question. 

"I wouldn't say I am far. It exists..." How to explain it in an easy to understand term? There wasn't really one. "It exists above us, watching over this place but unseen. I left that place to come here and defend the humans. My brothers and sisters abandoned our home territory so, there wasn't much for me there." She wasn't sure how much sense she had made but she was too tired to really care. "I would say my kind, as far as this realm goes, is extinct yes. I am the last one left." Gabriel found it surprising when Askee-ah finally revealed where she had come from. "They brought you back...?" That was something she found to be almost abhorrent. Life and death were things not to be tampered with. When the balance is tipped too far the wrong way bad things begin to happen. What was dead was meant to stay dead. Maybe they had a point in leaving the humans, but leaving certainly wasn't the route they should have taken. 

Even though Askee-ah's existence went against everything Gabe believed in she certainly didn't hold it against her. It wasn't exactly her choice after all they brought her back. And if they hadn't where would she herself be now? "What was that like? You seem to remember things from before based on what you showed me... was it just like a dreamless sleep?" Being immortal and the being she was she knew next to nothing about death except for how to deal it. That, and the concept of souls and where they might go (that wasn't really her area to know, she was a warrior angel after all).

[ValidEmotions]

[[Vaz~~ ❤️ You clever, mischievous demon. I love it.

Since my pair are together, I'm just gonna do one perspective in a post :V]]

 

Argia

 

She didn't have many insights or expectations about how the situation would unfold. But she was certainly not prepared for Vaz's extravagant introduction for her. Argia wanted to interrupt them, but she studied her companion's gaze and realized there was a purpose for their overly pleasant demeanour--despite having a wrath demon at their back. She didn't know how much of it Jorath and Doris would believe, much less who the bluff was intended for. Likely Doris. She was beginning to understand more clearly that this was something of Vaz's strengths, utilizing words and relying on various connotations to achieve what they wanted. It was fitting.

 

Argia didn't add to Vaz's words and turned her gaze to the newly arrived demons. Doris was shifting his focus between Vaz and herself, and occasionally Jorath. His face was twisted into something she figured was either frustration, impatience, and something more.

 

Jorath, on the other hand, had only lost a fraction of his smile, blue eyes growing uncertain. "She?" He looked to Vaz. For a moment, he stared at them. The corner of his lips twitched before gradually easing into a frown. "So, she's responsible for the misery, then." His voice was low and his arms moved to fold across his chest. A second after, he took a step back, allowing Argia to fully see Doris. "What sort of fight have you been trying to pick, Ditraxol?"

 

Ditraxol. Not Doris. Argia flicked a glance at Vaz and lifted an eyebrow.

 

The wrath demon stood taller, lurching towards Jorath and grabbing a fistful of the demon's tank. "The only fights I'm picking are the ones that are well deserved, Cheat." His glower turned on Vaz. "Vazithrazuul might not tell lies, but I know how they twist words." Then he looked to her. "Stealer? You don't look the part."

 

"Appearances can never be relied upon to tell the truth," Argia replied.

 

Ditraxol snorted once. "Where is the dawn then, Stealer? I think Malvorin would be quite interested in knowing more about you." 

 

She didn't like the grin that pulled at his face. Grip tightening on the hilt of Atropos, Argia glanced at Vaz again, then at Jorath. This was more about keeping Jorath alive than anything else. Though, she marveled at how unperturbed he appeared, trapped in Ditraxol's grasp as he was. How should she answer the demon's question? Should she risk this Malvorin's attention?

 

Was there something she could do to be as convincing at possible?

 

Her gaze drifted down to her broadsword, falling upon the dark imperfection that cracked its blade. "The dawn is in my sword," she said at last. Brow furrowing and heart beginning to race within her chest, she carefully rested the tip of Atropos against the ground. Maybe it wasn't a direct purpose, but something manifested in the slumbering rage. She could reach her awareness to it and pluck an ember out of its pit. Was this right?

 

Argia lifted her free hand and her gaze, taking in all three demons before her. She snapped her fingers. The dark crack racing down Atropos's blade seemed to ignite. It began at the hilt and burned downward to the end, flames licking angrily at the air. More than one gaze became wide at the sight.

 

"L'anvitra...," Ditraxol breathed, releasing Jorath's tank top and shoving past him to step towards Argia. 

 

She quickly snapped her fingers again, dispelling the illusion she could not hold much longer. As she took a step back, Atropos vanished into smoke. She frowned at the wrath demon and he halted his movement. "Atropos is mine and mine alone. None shall be able to touch it except at the end of my blade without mercy."

 

Ditraxol grinned again, slowly shifting his gaze to Vaz and Jorath in turn. A hand landed on Jorath's shoulder, visibly unsteadying the demon. "Perhaps there is still some luck to be had." He shoved Jorath towards Argia and she briefly caught him to keep him from falling. "Make nice." Looking to Vaz, "Maybe not such a useless wit after all. I, or someone else, will find all three of you in the near future. Though, whether Malvorin wants to make an alliance or simply to eradicate you--" He shrugged then gave another laugh before walking away.

 

She watched him leave. When he was no longer in sight, she caught Jorath's movement at the edge of her vision. Hands gripped her shoulders tightly, nearly disrupting her balance as she was turned to face Jorath completely. "Tell me that was real," he said, too quickly.

 

His gaze bore into her and, uncertain, she looked to Vaz. "I--" Sucking in a breath, she shook her head. "No. That... That was an illusion. Have I made another mistake?" Her gaze returned to Jorath's and she watched as the features in his face slowly fell.

 

Gently, he released her and took a step back. "No. You did nothing wrong." His tone didn't match the reassurance but, a moment later, a faint smile broke upon his face and he turned to Vaz. "Very clever, Vaz. Did you two rehearse this?"

[Lycanious]

They caught her gaze briefly at the name reveal, and despite the tension in the air Vaz clicked their fingers and mouthed ‘Ditraxol!’ in the background in response. Shame, they were going to miss the Doris pseudonym. Felt like less of a mouthful.

 

As satisfying as the solved mystery of the wrath demon’s name was, the feeling was quickly overridden when said demon’s eyes started to bore into two of Vaz’s own. Brow wrinkled at the implication that an inability to lie meant that their words were any less than pure honesty, but they couldn’t deny he was right. Perhaps Ditraxol did actually have a brain in there somewhere. He did seem hesitant to outright duel the Stealer of Light after all.

 

Ditraxol’s attention had shifted back over to said ‘Stealer of Light’ and Vaz followed his example, risking an apologetic, slightly fearful expression now that the spotlight was on her. Vaz flipped wildly through the pages in their head, grasping for something else that would back up their claims and keep up the pretence of mystery and awe. Perhaps if they could work in the title of ‘Harbinger’ somehow-

 

Vaz found they didn’t need to, flinching back like the rest of the demons as Atropos suddenly burst into flames. That was new. They blinked owlishly at Argia a few times as she took the reigns over the situation, now frozen in place save the occasional glance back towards Ditraxol or Jorath to gauge their reactions.

 

To Vaz’s shock, her little trick with the broadsword seemed to have worked. Ditraxol continued to scowl and mockingly suggest their time in this realm was finite, but Vaz was sure to note that the wrath demon was making sure to stay his distance from this powerful new entity he’d been introduced to. After what seemed an eternity, Ditraxol backed down and took their leave. Vaz made sure to regard him with the same, smarmy expression as before to keep up the illusion that they had some semblance of control here.

 

Once he had finally disappeared from sight Vaz closed their eyes and laughed maniacally at nothing in particular, bordering on hysteria for a few seconds before they wrestled back control over their own actions. Sheer disbelief that it had actually worked, and the subsequent relief, had driven them to it.

“The flame was a lovely touch, I must say.”

Announced Vaz once they had returned to their usual selves, spinning on their heel to properly face their companions. The tail lowered along with Vaz’s defences, flickering back out of existence with a puff of smoke. The horns remained though, signalling that Vaz was still a little on edge about something.

 

“Just a little something I thought of. No time for rehearsals L’antiira, believe it or not I prefer you not to be disemboweled upon arrival.”

Announced Vaz on approach, bowing their head in what must have been thanks for the compliment over their wit.

“But you have dear Argia here to thank, mostly. She’s a natural. Hard to believe I was explaining what a pastry was to her a few hours ago.”

 

Vaz regarded her warmly for a moment before their gaze switched over to the protrusions along Jorath’s spine again. Tentatively they placed a light hand on the fellow demon’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him, as though they were worried that if the grip was too tight he might explode.

“You look dreadful. Absolutely horrendous. You have what appears to be some twigs tangled up in your horns. How about you take a breath before you tell your saviours how you managed to get into Malvorin’s bad-books?”

Edited May 8, 2020 by Lycanious

[ValidEmotions]

Jorath

 

He ran his fingers through his hair, a somewhat awkward feat to accomplish given the presence of his horns. Vaz's laughter was a sound Jorath would never tire of. Why didn't he hang around the scholarly demon more often, again? Don't pretend you don't remember. Right. "Ditraxol was my fault," he started, but Vaz's words silenced him, a hand resting on the hot skin of his shoulder. Twigs were of little consequence. For a moment, Jorath ignored the ache in his flesh the contact elicited, absorbing his friend's tender care. He brought his hand up to cover theirs, thumb brushing the back of their hand, and then eased it away in the next second. His pulse still beat too quickly, too erratically. 

 

Glancing at Argia, he flashed a brief and curious grin. "You don't know what pastries are? What sort of demon are you?"

 

"I'm not a demon," Argia replied. So simple.

 

He blinked and parted his lips to say something more but failed to find anything adequate. "Oh. Well. An explanation for later then." Jorath tilted his head back and swayed faintly. Was he starting to pant? He definitely felt dreadful, as Vazithrazuul had put it. "A breather...." That's what he needed, yes. His thoughts were... a mess, at best. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head.

 

Slowly, he crouched down and a soft exhale escaped his lips.

 

"Are you...?" Argia's voice filtered to his ears.

 

He almost gave a short laugh as he could feel her gaze on his back. Only a part of him wondered what she thought but the rest knew that she was likely repulsed by the damage she could see. "Don't worry. Much of the pain faded centuries ago." The words came out with more of a snarl than he intended. Her boot scuffed the ground. Idiot. Always the wrong thing. Jorath inhaled deeply. A groan flitted into the air when a tremor traveled through his back. Get it together, Jay.

 

"Who is it you seek revenge against?"

 

His gaze shot up to Argia, eyes wide for a brief moment before narrowing with confusion. "What?"

 

Argia looked uncertain, her weight shifting noticeably from one side to the other and then back. "Your anger. I can feel it..."

 

A wavering breath filled his lungs and Jorath uttered an oath beneath it. "It's nothing. It's old." He didn't really want to have it dragged out in front of Vaz. It also meant that being around Argia might be an issue for him. Jorath needed to focus. More importantly, he needed to calm down. His hands trembled with arthritic pain, claws already taking shape. Fortunately, Argia said nothing more, but he could feel her watching him as he turned away. Rising, he started pacing.

 

"Something went wrong," Jorath started. He wanted to answer Vaz's question and, since the adrenaline in his body wasn't quieting any moment soon, he might as well begin now. Idly, he lifted his hands and plucked out more nesting from his hair and horns. "I don't really know what. I never do." A twitch in his lip. "One second, I'm with a big-time businessman, setting up the final details for a Soul Contract with Malvorin. In the next?" He tried remembering. Jorath barely did anything involving paperwork. His bargains were always in the flesh. 

 

His hand flew down to the chain at his hip, fingertips touching hot metal. He let it burn into his palm as he unhooked the ends and curled his fingers tightly around the silver links.

 

"Vaz?" he heard Argia whisper. "His rage... It's growing."

 

Crap. Jorath wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach, hunching over slightly with a fresh wave of pain. Keep talking. Focus on talking. "Something about the final bargain. The human said something. It was vague. I can't do vague." That was it. The human hadn't specified his end of the contract, forgot to use a direct name. "Too vague. Wrong result." It all went to crap just because the man had forgotten to speak a single name.

 

He flicked his gaze towards his friend, almost pleading in the scowl that bared his teeth. "Vazithrazuul." Jorath bowed his head again, pulling his eyes off Vaz, and choked back another groan. The protrusions along his spine quaked, growing a few inches longer and sending agony through his tearing flesh. "Get Argia out of here. Now."

 

[[Don't worry, kids! He'll be fine!

.... I think. I have no idea what's happening anymore 😃]]

Edited May 9, 2020 by ValidEmotions

[Lycanious]

Vaz inclined their head, intrigued by the revenge comment from Argia. Their immediate theory was that it was fuelled by Ditraxol himself, but with the indication it was an older grudge...Vaz frowned, but filed the question away for another day. Jorath was looking less together with each passing second. They barely had time to ask “Whose rage?” before Jorath doubled over, cutting that conversation short. Alarm flashed over Vaz’s face as they released their hold on the demon’s shoulder, taking a step back with raised hands.

“Jorath? What’s wr-“

 

Get Argia out of here. Now.

Head whipped frantically between the two of them, not wanting to throw Argia to the wolves of the world just yet but deeming it unthinkable to leave Jorath behind right now. 

“...Go, please. I will find you later, nil lokis, but...”

Vaz made a frantic gesture back towards the park and wrapped a gentle but firm hand around her arm as he walked her forward a few steps. 

“...Might...might be best if you run. Actually. Here.”

Vaz fished around briefly in their pockets, forcing about half-a-dozen business cards into her hands and an elegant, ebony-hued quill that smelled faintly of charcoal.

“That will help, if we find ourselves split for a while. Remember, head down. Make powerful allies. Think. Before you choose.”

She was adaptable, as Vaz had just noted. They were certain she would either make peace with whichever strange lifelines were lurking in the park or find safe refuge among its many dark shadows.

 

“Too vague. Again.”

Vaz huffed, once they had returned to the spot where Jorath was hunched over. They began to pace in a circle around him, mumbling to themselves as they wrung their hands in the air. It was all through gritted teeth and the old, guttural language they used, but there was an occasional spitting of the words ‘vague’, ‘fickle’ and ‘mortals’ as they grew louder in volume. Eventually, they switched from Oldspeak, and started to direct the dialogue at Jorath specifically.

 

“You need to CHECK these things Jorath! You need to run your frustrating, confounding mind over the situation and draw out every beautiful. Perfect. Invigorating little glimpse of information you could ever hope for and you savour it as you watch them practically forge the contract themselves. What did you forget? The power source? The victim? The agreement itself? Why do you DO these things Jorath!?”

Vaz was fuming, hands thrown in the air as they tried to fathom why the demon before them never seemed to follow such advice. It was borderline self-sabotage at this point. Vaz spun to directly face him, and looked about to continue before their eyes settled on those horrid, painful-looking tendrils jutting out of his back again. They sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. Talking had seemed to quell him before, but Vaz could never pick out rhyme or reason as to what sort of words did the job. They doubted vicious snarks were the answer, though.

 

“I just...wish you would take better care of yourself. I take no pleasure from seeing you in such a miserable state.”

Vas finally announced, quieter and with less of a bite than their earlier monologue. They stopped the pacing as they reached his side, hand hovering unsure over the hunched demon for a moment before it decided it would instead pluck out the last remaining twig ensnared in those awful chains adorning Jorath’s horns.

“Look around, L’antiira.”

Vaz murmured, snapping the twig in two idly and watching as its remains crumbled into ash.

“The mortals here are cold, and despicable. They even drove the aeiuwn themselves away. Find someone truely wretched, and feast. It would be the most useful thing they’ve ever done with their pathetic little life.”

Edited May 9, 2020 by Lycanious
They switched from Oldspeak, not to

[AlexisV]

Askee-ah had slowed her pace and dropped back to walk beside Gabriel. She was only a few rooftops away from her nest-building, a place that belonged entirely to her and a few dedicated human followers. A few raptors always stood guard over it and she felt safe enough now to slow down and be a little less wary. Any predator that knew the ground it hunted would know this place was guarded, and any unaware one would be in for an unpleasant surprise.

 

She considered Gabriel's answers in silence for a while.

 

She was something more than mortal, Askee-ah could sense that as well as make a connection to the guardian spirit stories humans told about angels.

But Gabriel didn't sound like a species-soul like herself, if she didn't know about the nature of death. Some kind of guardian spirit that wasn't connected to a species, to nature itself? That idea seemed deeply puzzling to her.

 

Askee-ah thought for a while, a settled on the easiest answer she knew how to give at the moment, a melodic call of three high notes.

 

("Like rain.")

 

That was a mortal raptor word, but the subtlety would need a different kind of explaining. She made a quick leap and turn to land just ahead, facing Gabriel more directly, meeting the angel's eyes with her yellow slit-pupilled ones. She called up a scrap of her vision power.

 

The sensation of the cycle of rain, viewed from the spirit world. How it rose from the seas and formed clouds and fell, travelling down stones and rivers to the sea again.

 

Then she overlaid a brief taste of the cycle of the species she had once watched over and been part of. Mortal creatures that raised chicks and killed prey, slept beneath tall plants and drank the rain, and in turn died, were hunted and eaten. Thier flesh fed other hunters, thier bones fed the earth and the plants thier prey ate, thier blood and broken eggs returned to the rain, and the cycle continued in shelter and prey and water for new eggs and new raptors.

 

Viewed from the perspective of the spirit world, the essence of the mortal being's spirits flowed in a cycle just as the essence of rain and earth, sparks of awareness passing from incarnation to the spirit world and back again, sometimes in the form of individual raptors, sometimes as part of Askee-ah, sometimes as new species or parts of the earth. They belonged to both the raw energy state and the mortal world that was blind and unknowing of the spirit but called neither a permanent home.

 

Because that was what nature needed to sustain itself, and created by needing it, just as Askee-ah had been a creator of balance because balance was needed. She *was* a part of the cycle, created by her efforts to sustain it, her struggle for the survival of her species just as each mortal struggled and fought. Or she had been.

 

The vision faded. Askee-ah panted a little and shook herself, she'd spent more energy and gotten more drawn into the explaination than she'd intended.

 

She looked to Gabriel expectantly for a moment before she began walking again, hoping her explanation would help the angel's adaptation to what she supposed would have to be a life like her own.

A thought nagged at her.

 

humans don't follow cycles like this. If they did you would have become part of the human soul-species as soon as you gained a connection to them.

 

Askee-ah sniffed and put that thought aside as they neared her nest.

It was a dilapidated but sturdily-built five-story structure made of honey-colored brick. Most of the upper windows were fully intact but any within a stone-throwing range of the ground had been long ago broken out and boarded over.

At the ground level a torn awning flapped in the wind over what had once been a grand theater entrace in art deco style. A faded sign jutted out from one corner of the building, inset letters once filled with neon tubes and light bulbs spelled out the words "Searchlight Grande Theatre"

Askee-ah pushed throught the weathered, brass-clad double doors.

 

The entrance room wasn't especially large but it was built to feel vast, with a double sweeping staircase leading upward to the theatre room entrance. A few working lightbulbs twinkled above the crystal veils of old chandaliers. 

 

The room would have had an air of mysterious, stately granduer if it hadn't contained, among other things, two raptors noisily fighting a tug-of-war over a rug they'd probably stolen from a storefront.

 

And at the foot of one staircase sat a man holding a large sketchpad with a drawing detailing the bones and range of motion of a dromeosaur's forelimb. He wore glasses, a metal cast of a raptor's claw on a chain, and clothes suited to long hikes. He was apparently having a heated discussion with another raptor holding out both forclaws and waving them in a jazz-hands fashion.

 

"Yes I know you never had this kind of wrist mobility but I can't just *not* cite my work based on the existing fossil data!" He yelled, stabbing at the sketchpad.

 

Askee-ah sniffed and flicked her tail in a fashion of defeated irritation, and gave Gabriel a rising-falling call, a head dip and a synchronous motion with foreclaws and tail, followed by several low chirps, and a look upward to where a second floor staircase continued upward from the first.

 

("This is our nest, come and go as you please, it is safe. Sleeping places to rest are up there.")

 

One of the raptors lost its grip on the rug and crashed into an old drink cart, spilling metal tumblers and trays everywhere in a cascade of noise that echoed and reverberated through the room's vaulted ceilings.

 

Askee-ah made a low grumbling noise in the bottom of her throat. She scratched the tiles twice with her left foot claws.

 

("Far up there.")

[ValidEmotions]

Argia

 

She wasn't certain of what to do. Jorath's rage filled him and seemed to reach out for her in turn. Something was shoved into her hands and she tore her gaze away from the demon in pain. "Vaz--" She tried speaking but they grabbed her arm and started urging her away. Argia didn't know how to process the discomfort entering her chest at the prospect of leaving Vaz with Jorath. There was distress and tension. She feared for their safety.

 

But she also recognized the possibility that they knew more about what was happening. She might only end up in the way of it. Nodding once, Argia took several steps back, feeling her shawl shift and pull away. It parted in the front and feathers sprouted. Though black and red instead of black and white, her wings still appeared in poor state. They weren't weary anymore, however, and bore her weight after a moment of trying to make them respond.

 

Argia made for the park, focusing on the two lifelines ahead, even as Vaz and Jorath's fell behind. Though she kept her gaze on where she flew, her fingers carefully passed over the cards and the barbs of the quill feather. With Jorath's rage fading from distance, she found herself able to take a full breath in at last.

 

It didn't take long before her wings tired again and she searched for a place to land. Though, trepidation tickled at her thoughts despite the relatively open street. She could see the park just beyond two more blocks of buildings, trees dotting the land as concrete yielded to more natural earth. A play structure sat in the middle of what she could see, figures taking shape before their silhouettes possessed details. 

 

She needed to figure out how to land before her wings gave up again. Glancing over her shoulder, she quickly studied the dilapidated appendages and frowned before looking forward once more. Perhaps if she--

 

Her wings stopped beating and she began to plummet with a brief shout until she made them work again. Her body jerked with the abrupt jolt. That wasn't how to land, she was certain. Had she ever stopped to watch how birds flew? To a limited degree. She searched her memories, trying to recall if she'd seen one landing before. A few times. Their legs seemed to reach out to what they wanted to land on. She could do that.

 

Wind pulled at her wings as she tried to angle herself towards the ground. Her boots touched grass harder than she anticipated and she stumbled several steps before outright falling. Cards and quill spilled from her hands. Grimacing, she picked herself up and brushed dirt off her dress, wings molding back into a shawl. That went... better, at least. She hurried to gather the gifts Vaz gave her before continuing to the park.

 

Jorath

 

He felt Argia's presence fade and the tension in his chest ebbed only slightly. It was enough though. She would be out of his reach. 

 

No longer a target to pursue.

 

Listening to Vazithrazuul lecture him in Oldspeak made him want to laugh and snarl simultaneously. So, Jorath opted for a sharp grunt instead. He barely looked at them, letting the heat from the silver chain in his hand distract from the pain everywhere else. "Ejdhail Vazithrazuul! Ensofhe hij dheowi!" He knew about getting humans and other beings to be as precise as possible. Jorath tried every time. "Dij--" He hissed and tried again, this time in a dialect Vaz was more familiar with. "The man didn't speak a name when he should have. It was already at the end of the bargain!" Not his fault.

 

Yet, the blame was always his, wasn't it? It was always his fault in the end.

 

"I don't forget anything. I ha--" His throat tightened, the chains in his horns searing the bone. He couldn't tell Vaz, no matter how much he wanted to. Something always prevented him. It was the same whenever he tried helping a bargain to be more equal, or less in favor of him. When the pressure loosened around his neck, he swore in various dialects. 

 

Vaz moved closer, voice softening. Don't. I don't deserve that. He deserved every bit of his friend's ire. Not their tenderness. As they plucked a twig free from his chains, Jorath's hands struck, gripping Vaz's wrists. It hid the tremble in his hands. "Skeitlo a epdist djaneht...." Jorath detested what Vaz was suggesting. But, as he saw the silver in his skin from the corner of his eye, he felt his knees grow weak. 

 

Jorath's grip loosened. Before he pulled back entirely, he pushed back one of Vaz's sleeves and wrapped the chain in his hand around their arm. The ends latched together. A temporary measure. But Jorath hoped it would do for the moment. "Fikj--" He hissed again, correcting himself as he dropped to his knees. "Vazithrazuul... You know so many truths." 

 

Jorath started to inhale deeply, his breath hitching as pain rushed up his spine and into his shoulders. Bone crackled as some of the protrusions molded back beneath his skin and others broke off entirely, clattering to the street. His deformed wings absorbed back into his flesh, iron chains only partway successful. Bits of old metal still pierced his gouged back, glinting from streetlights. His horns shrank in length but failed to vanish completely, though the chains had started to melt away, breaking unevenly. 

 

"Gitfjok e tloanrea hegsna." 

 

[[I'm on mobile so I apologise for any bumps.

Um, okay bear with me on some translations. Much of it is from Jorath's focus being shot so he's speaking with an intense mixture of different dialects, even in the same sentence. (This includes the "translated" bits mid-post.)

1 - "I know, Vaz. You think I don't try?"

2 - "I hate that you offer this" basically. Very rough translation. This is on purpose re: garbled langues.

3 - "I will feed as you want me to."]]

Edited May 9, 2020 by ValidEmotions
I didn't like how short Argia's piece was :U

[Lycanious]

Illustrations of more chains, eight in total, flickered into Vaz’s mind as they inhaled sharply and stared down at the metal suddenly coiled around the arm. The ghostly memories of chains were as light as feathers but strong like diamonds, and they were coloured a bright, and vibrant gold because they knew that gold would make everything sting just that little bit more as they-

 

Vaz remembered where they were. In a damp and chilly alleyway, gawking wide-eyed at the demon with an iron grip on them. Vaz took a breath, the ache in their wings subsided to a mostly-negligible level, and once released they moved to loosen the loop of the chain so they could shift it a little further up their arm and away from the faded scars of The Fall.

 

 “I...dislike...this infernal contraption of yours. Regardless of its use.”

Vaz mused, bringing their arm up to inspect it closely as Jorath attempted to morph back into something vaguely human again. Heat radiated from it, but not the warm and inviting sort Vaz had been missing since they came to this world. No, this heat was searing and blinding, leaving a red mark on their flesh that almost seemed to burn through to the demon themself lurking beneath its surface.

“It is a wicked thing. Full of distasteful concepts and secrets I am not privy to.”

They rolled down their sleeve once more, which did less to deter the unpleasant sensation than Vaz had hoped.

 

“Ah, Jorath. Indeed I know many, many things. And I share so many of them at your request and yet...”

They opened their arms, palms facing forward as they shrugged, slow and with a tinge of melancholy they had difficulty hiding. The newly-acquired metal on their arm burned deeper, but Vaz was determined not to give it the satisfaction of any further acknowledgement.

“Somehow, you are so silent. You perplex me, my dear. You are an open book, begging to be read, but your pages are scrawled in a dead language.”

 

It wasn’t right, to be chained like this, metaphorical or otherwise. For a being that embraced their demonic designation as a symbol of rebellion and freedom, to see it warped into a form of punishment, on a friend no less, was unbearable. Vaz longed to pry into those twisted pieces of metal, sift through all the binding rules etched into them and pluck out just one, priceless loophole that would undo them all. 

 

But Vaz only knew of the truths spoken to them. If Jorath could not tell, then Vaz could not help.

 

“You speak in tongues I am only partially familiar with, Jorath. But I will take that as acknowledgement that you will decide to listen to an old Scribe of Truth some time in the near future.”

Head tilted to the side, inspecting Jorath’s current appearance with a thoughtful expression.

“...Do you think something sugary or deep-fried will stave it off a bit longer?”

Vaz inquired in a gentler tone, holding out their arm for Jorath to grip onto once they thought they were steady enough on their feet for it.

“I believe there are food vendors nearby, if you are not yet in the mindset for a healthy meal. I have many coins.”

Edited May 9, 2020 by Lycanious
Wording change for variety

[ValidEmotions]

[[Two things: 1) I added more to Argia's bit in my last post because I didn't like how short it was and 2) I have a feeling this post is going to get dark because Jorath is an entire mess. Also, WALL INCOMING.]]

 

Leave it to Vazithrazuul to scold him for not tending to his own needs more carefully, and then offer up a chance to further delay that self-care in the next heartbeat. A raspy, broken laugh escaped Jorath's throat as he took Vaz's help to rise. It was a mostly humorless sound, but it was something nevertheless. He chewed on his words before managing to free them from his tongue. "No. Save your coin," he said, this time in Commonspeak as his thoughts stopped clamouring. His voice was low, regardless. After a pause to mentally check his faculties, Jorath frowned at Vaz. "It was... an impulse, I'm sorry." He tried not to do such things and involve others. Most times, he managed on his own just fine. Vaz was, perhaps, the one on the receiving end more than Jorath was comfortable with; even if only a few times, they were already too many. There had been another demon or two that he'd used, but they were long gone now. 

 

Every instance left Jorath feeling too exposed, too alert, as if something might leap out at him from the shadows. But, it also gave a sense of familiarity to him, a direction to move towards. So to speak. 

 

Jorath shook his head, clearing the sensation away from his mind. "I can remove it if you need me to," he offered. He'd done it once before, after accidentally attaching it to a human. Mortals didn't have the same survivability of demons, however, and Jorath worked to avoid a repeat of his mistake ever since. Part of him wondered, since he could never determine what visions Vazithrazuul witnessed from it, if they were aware of other times his chain was put to use. If it was even his past that Vaz glimpsed and not their own. 

 

Idly, he glanced down at his tank top and sighed. Dark stains had bled into the otherwise gray fabric, originating from his back. He was going to have to get something new. Maybe get his hands on another jacket in the event Gabriel never returned his.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Jorath gently peeled off the tattered fabric and quickly assessed how much of his adrenaline had seemed to ebb. Silver tendrils no longer decorated his arms but they still reached from his chest like tree branches. It didn't look like a sugary snack would cut it for very long, just as the chips hadn't. His hands tightened on the remnants of his top. "I'll find... something." He couldn't say 'a mortal'. No matter how wretched a human might be, none deserved the fate he could bring under the weight of his sins. At least, that was his stance. Vaz saw it differently and, some days, Jorath envied that about them. He envied their ability to take pride in what they were and to enjoy what it had to offer. 

 

"Jay," he said, the sound of it nearly startling him. Before Vaz could wonder, he provided the answer. "My name, before I became Jorath. Never told you before." No one but the Scribe of Truth knew he used to be human several centuries ago. Jorath didn't really know why he was sharing it now, but he'd been hiding more than enough from Vaz already. At least this he could share. It might not make up for it, but he figured he could reveal a new truth for each one he couldn't speak. 

 

His gaze had drifted to the ground at some point, landing upon one of the broken spikes from his back. Stooping down, he plucked it from the street and briefly ran his fingers along the dark bone. Draping the tank top over his shoulder, he willed everything to a sense of numbness. Jorath didn't know if he wanted Vaz to follow this time, or if the demon would come with regardless of what he wanted. They'd caught him feeding once before, mostly by happenstance. 

 

Knuckles turned white as he clenched the shard of bone but he said nothing further to Vaz, setting his legs into motion while he had all of the apathy he could muster. Fueled by not wanting to disappoint Vazithrazuul any further. He stuffed the shard and his hands into his pockets, directing himself back towards the livelier parts of the city. Many mortals still functioned according to the stamps on their clocks, but there was an entire portion of the population that threw out the arbitrariness of time once it had become obsolete in the eternal night. As a result, the city was in a constant flux of activity with highs and lows for nearly every pocket. 

 

Jorath couldn't blame any of them for wanting some semblance of normalcy. 

 

He inhaled deeply, picking up the ghost of a scent he'd encountered before Ditraxol caught up to him. It mingled with the tinges of other scents, making it somewhat difficult to coax out. But he managed to follow it towards a small rise of apartments and townhomes. Brunette hair tousled in the breeze as the woman spoke with a man. Slowing his pace, Jorath watched from the distance and, eventually, the woman disappeared into one of the units. The man turned and headed elsewhere. 

 

Jorath approached the unit, lifting a hand free from his pocket and readying a knuckle to rap against the wood. He glanced to the side and noticed the man returning. When the mortal was only a handful of yards away, he looked up and faltered. All sorts of creatures that had been hiding in the night long ago came out with no light to chase them away again. That didn't mean mortals had grown outright used to everyone of them, let alone completely welcoming. Jorath tried to grin. "Hello," he said.

 

The man took a step back but otherwise managed a straight face. "Can I help you?"

 

"Do you live here?" Jorath asked.

 

There was a pause, then, "Yes. What do you want?"

 

Jorath's gaze flicked back to the door. He could just ignore the man and go to the woman--her scent filled that 'target' placeholder in his awareness. He returned his attention to the human, standing a fraction straighter. "I'm looking for you." Stepping away from the door, he inhaled and forced his body to relax. A smile came to his face easier this time. He studied the mortal, letting his senses feed him information about the man. "I heard you're in need of a little change in luck these days."

 

At first, the man looked ready to walk away, but then his features shifted into something more like curiosity than wariness. "Well, that depends. Where'd you hear it from?" 

 

Clever. Jorath's eyelids lowered lazily. "A friend of yours." He drew closer to the human. "I can change your luck, you know." Jorath's voice was soft, rough. He could sense the mortal's hesitations. Leaning forward, he whispered against the man's ear, "You don't actually live at that unit. What were you doing?"

 

"That's--That's none of your business."

 

"Isn't it? You crossed my path, that makes you my business if I want you to be."

 

To the man's credit, the mortal became irritated rather than frightened. He stepped away and glared at Jorath. "You're a demon."

 

"How astute of you to notice. Was it the horns that gave it away?" 

 

"What do you want with Hailey?" the man asked. More points to him for ignoring Jorath's quip. 

 

Jorath's gaze darkened. "I need something from her. Would you care to help me? I have to be invited inside but I don't think she'd like see me as I am now." He was lying. There was nothing that could prevent him from entering the building but the human wouldn't know that. "I'll make it worth your while, such a small thing as it is."

 

The man seemed to think about it, brown eyes shifted from Jorath to the door then back. "You said you could change my luck?" At Jorath's slight nod, the man seemed to loosen up, smirking. "Alright. I'll get you inside. I don't think Hailey would mind your horns all that much. She's a kind soul who doesn't always know how to refuse someone." He moved past Jorath, stepping quickly to the door and knocking loudly. 

 

The door eased open a few moments later, the brunette woman with pink-painted lips and soft eyes appearing. "Oh! Hello, Neil. I thought you went home. Is there something I can help you with?" Her eyes trailed away from Neil and jerked to a stop when they reached Jorath. "Oh... oh my...." Hailey's eyes widened and she stepped back.

 

Shame laced the numbness Jorath had built up. He averted his gaze, making a weak attempt to keep the ease in his features from fading away. "Please, excuse the horns. I ran into some... trouble, after I walked away. I'm sorry."

 

"Look, Hails. He needs some help, can we come in?"

 

"Of course! Of course, of course. Come inside," she rushed. She stepped aside so both could enter the building. "Let me get you something."

 

Jorath didn't have time to formulate a response as she took his tank top from his shoulder and hurried into another room. He could hear dresser drawers opening and closing, hangers shuffling a moment after. His jaw clenched tighter. All of his senses started directing towards Hailey again. He needed them on Neil. 

 

"Here, try these." Hailey turned with a dark purple shirt and gray jacket, pressing them into his hands. "Hopefully they're a close enough size. I gather whatever bits I can from around the city. Never know when they'll be needed." She was smiling at him, though worry tinted her gaze. He knew she hadn't seen his back yet, and he would make a point to keep it that way.

 

His throat was tight. "Thank you..."

 

"Hailey," she filled in. She'd misinterpreted his pause.

 

He needed out of the apartment. Forcing his movements to be steady, unrushed, he slipped on the shirt and jacket, slowly tugging on the fabric to ensure an adequate fit. "These are perfect, Hailey. I--"

 

"If you need a place to hide, you're welcome at any time." Her smile faded into something like sympathy.

 

Please don't. Not her.

 

Neil clapped his hands together then patted Jorath on the arm, providing just enough of a distraction. "I'll let Hailey do her thing and see you back outside afterwards, eh?" The man grinned and Jorath tried to say something against the idea. The protest died on his traitorous tongue. Neil gave a single wave to Hailey before opening the door.

 

"Wait." Jorath made a last-ditch effort. "I should thank you, too." He reached out and grabbed Neil by the arm. The potential of the mortal's twisted intentions flooded his awareness. Part of Jorath's hunger stirred at the contact, his palm growing warm. 

 

Neil shrugged him off. "Don't worry about it. We'll talk outside." Then he was gone with a click of the door.

 

Almost. It had almost been enough. You'll find him after. Jorath swallowed down the thought. But the need was already there. Hailey's voice flittered through the air, taking too long to register as actual words. "I'm sorry?"

 

A faint sound left her lips, some kind of chuckle. "I was saying, I can show you the spare room. Usually it's lost teens that come and go but there's still a fair share of estranged adults just trying to make it through the city." She motioned for him to follow her.

 

Numbness returned as he closed his eyes. My fault.... Stepping softly, Jorath let Hailey lead him out of the living space, stuffing his hands to his pockets and thumbing the bone shard that waited. He stepped close to her as she began speaking again. "Yoklist entiga," he murmured into her hair as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She was too kind for a world tearing itself apart. He couldn't trust her gentleness. Or so he convinced himself. Hailey didn't scream but she struggled against him, pulling at his arm and gasping. "Thrixna wezlu, nannetuwa." 

 

The edge of the shard cut easily and deeply into her back. As Hailey jerked from it, Jorath bit into her shoulder. It wasn't so much flesh that he needed to feed upon. But, he had long ago learned that it helped him absorb more of the dying soul as it left a mortal's body. At least, he assumed it was their soul. Felt like it whenever he focused on what his senses were suggesting to him. It wasn't long before Hailey went limp and he eased her to the ground, resting on his knees in the process. Her eyes were glazed over and he passed a hand down her face to shut them. "I'm sorry," he repeated to her, this time in Commonspeak. 

 

Standing, he gave a brief glance at the new clothes gifted to him and brushed his hand through the blood staining it. Silently, he stepped over Hailey and removed them. The jacket had escaped but the shirt wouldn't be acceptable anymore. He tried finding for another in a similar color, only coming across a long-sleeve. It would work. He rested it on top of the dresser and lifted his left arm. No more adrenaline coursed through his body. Taking the bone shard, he pierced it into the wood, slicing his hand in the process. "Take it," he told the air, told the apartment. A moment later, the cut in his hand began to congeal and scab over as a tremor echoed in his bones. He grunted, feeling the rest of the chains in his back melt out of sight. His temples throbbed as his horns shrank to nothing. 

 

He left the bone behind and put the new clothes back on, leaving the apartment. Jorath still needed Neil, but for something other than sustenance. 

 

His Realm needed attention.

Edited May 9, 2020 by ValidEmotions
Why the heck did I use "quaint"? Also, typos.

[Lycanious]

“I...will wear it.”

Vaz announced, although with a significant pause before they finalised the decision. They fidgeting with the sleeve of their coat, still trying to shuffle it to a more comfortable spot along the arm.

“Briefly.”

 

Jay.

Vaz tested the sound out-loud a few times, wondering what its original meaning was. Human names seemed to function a little differently to Vaz’s own, they rarely described ones nature or domain. Sometimes the human wouldn’t even know what it’s original meaning was, which was fine, Vaz supposed, but some didn’t even care and that was appalling. Head tilted to the side, a smile etching its way slightly onto Vaz’s tired features. Insignificant as it may have seemed to the outside observer, Vaz could feel the spark of a closely guarded secret. Its hidden weight didn’t go unnoticed.

“Like the bird. Chatty and constantly getting into fights with it’s more dangerous predators. It suits you.”

 

Vaz walked alongside Jorath for a few minutes, watching their gait in their peripherals until they decided he would function fine on his own. Jorath deserved some privacy after all. Vaz had only caught them once before mid-feast and it had been...most unpleasant, to put it in lighter terms. Vaz was fortunate in their origins, all things considered. At the cost of raw power, Vaz could survive indefinitely on belief and unearthed truths alone. If Jorath desired not to be seen in such an agonising state, Vaz would oblige. They stopped as they came to a crossroads, the right leaning to the lively side of the town and the left to further seclusion.

“You know how to find me once you are done.”

Vaz announced, bowing their head in farewell as they took the left path to slink down an unassuming alleyway.

“I trust that Fi’Faltuun is still on your person, somewhere.”

Fi’Faltuun of course being one of Vaz’s favourite quills that they had parted with, the Sealer of A Thousand Sins herself. She was a refined lady, of exquisite insights, and Vaz would rain down actual, merciless hellfire if anything happened to her or her wielder.

 

Vaz stopped their pacing a few streets further down the road, sliding into a narrow alleyway that was otherwise completely abandoned. They wrenched the sleeve back to stare daggers at the burning piece of metal secured around it, muttering profanities as their hand clenched to bare it better. Vaz had privately given the chain a name of its own, Illstrund, a while ago. It was a name reserved mostly for moments like this, when Vaz needed some sort of personified entity to direct their contempt towards. Vaz glared down at ‘Illstrund’ as it seared more into their flesh, the chill in their air doing absolutely nothing to quell the nasty, horrid sensation it gave the demon.

“Your time is finite, Illstrund.”

Spat the demon.

“As it is with the rest of your wretched kin. I listen. I record. One day, it will be the death of you.”

The chain only ebbed with its usual fire, and in a fit of frustration, Vaz slammed their arm against the cool brick of the building beside them with a snarl. It did nothing visible to the device, it was meant to restrain Jorath and Vaz was not noted for brute strength among their kind, so the movement only served to send a jolt of pain running through that same arm’s shoulder.

 

Vaz cried out again, this time in a mixture of pain and bitter, temporary defeat. The heat of the chain seemed to die down after that, perhaps satiated by the victory it had over them. A heavy sigh followed, Vaz turning so they could face the wall and rest their forehead against it for a moment. The slight click of bone on brick sounded above them, alerting Vaz to the fact that their horns were still visible. No matter, the alleyway was devoid of any other life to witness them. 

 

Vaz noted that the lack of curious observers would be a good opportunity to finally check out what exactly Ditraxol did to their wing. The appendage in question seemed to agree, pressing lightly against the surface of their human shell until Vaz finally acquiesced and moved away from the wall. They shrugged off the lovely trench-coat they had purchased first and placed it neatly folded on the ground beside them. Drawing out their wings was such a rare occurrence they hadn’t even bothered to modify this one yet. But the white button-up shirt beneath it had two long slits in the back, the fabric carefully cut, folded back, and expertly sewn to allow for proper movement.

 

Vaz flexed their shoulders, eyes locked on their own shadow as they watched the injured wing unfurl into the mortal plane. The extra, almost unfamiliar weight of it soon threw Vaz off balance, and they soon drew out the others to compensate for it. Vaz had four wings in total, two that fanned out at the shoulder-blades and a smaller, less dexterous set further down their back. The combined wingspan was still enormous, even with the absence of most of the primaries and secondaries that had been ripped out of it long ago. Vaz could easily brush the walls of both sides of the alley if they wanted to.

 

Vaz craned their neck, easing the top-left wing forward until they could glimpse at the fresher mark Ditraxol had made alongside the more faded ones. The ink-like Ikaar was hard to see against the charcoal-coated remains of broken feathers, but Vaz could feel it pinch at them as they tested the joint near the tip of the wings. They could spy something small and barbed jutting out from it, a spot that Vaz couldn’t quite reach with their arms at this awkward angle. The tail materialised once more, coiling itself around the foreign object and dislodging it as Vaz hissed under their breath. They lowered the wing and brought the object to their hands, frowning down at it. It had the appearance of a black thorn, its tip stained with more Ikaar that Vaz wasn’t sure was entirely their own. Glimpses of Ditraxol’s aura flickered into view, Vaz wrinkling their nose at the tattered parchment and the harsh way that the wrath demon’s scratchy handwriting gouged into the paper beneath it, threatening to tear. How the demon had managed to embed the thorn in their brief encounter puzzled Vaz, and there was a growing unease as they realised they’d never seen the demon in their true, unbound form before. 

 

A sound suddenly pierced through the silence and Vaz’s thoughts, the sound of claws scrapping on metal somewhere around them. The wings snapped shut and pressed tightly against their back, Vaz whipping around to face the noise with tail poised to strike.

“Yi zuul, au nil terras.”

Warned the demon, eyes starring into the shadows before them as they bared their fangs.

Edited May 10, 2020 by Lycanious
Forgot some words

[AlexisV]

Down in the drainage ditch, hidden by obscuring brush and darkness, two raptots made short work of the demon they'd hunted down.

 

They killed it quickly but ate with an uncharacteristic messiness, and for raptors that was a thing better not described or contemplated.

 

Askee-ah didn't particularly like the taste of demon or need nourishment from it in the normal sense, but she made a point of eating what she hunted for the sake of hunting. That had led her to discover by accident that a demon's mortal flesh occassionally retained flickers and sparks of insight and information she could consume.

 

There wasn't much of it in this demon, unsurprisingly. It tasted mostly of excuses and ineffectual anger, though there was a flicker or two of some basic but useful information about the heirarchy of demons.

 

The two raptors looked each other over and were satisfied that they were both spattered and streaked with bits of dark blood and gore, smelling like the inside and outside of a demon. A tinge of beastial rankness, wet ashes and flame, scorched metal and the sharpness that often marked intensely flammable chemicals.

 

They scrambled up the steep concrete bank of the ditch, the cold air chilling and starting to dry the blood that coated them.

 

They left the remains of the demon spread over a rather wide area of the drainage ditch, and the physical and metaphysical stink of it wafted up through the air. Unfortunately it would not go unnoticed, though Askee-ah was long gone but the time it was discovered.

It was a short, quick run across the momentarily deserted arterial street, up to the rooftops and out across the city. The two raptors sniffed at the air as they ran and leaped, and it didn't take them long to pick up the scent of the demon and the other unknown winged being they had left earlier.

 

Less careful than a hunt, but still wary, Askee-ah followed the scent trail. She smelled demon blood in it (it was hard *not* to smell demon blood, coated as she was in it) but this matched the scent of the other demon she pursued.

 

Before long the trail intersected with that of other demons, one that she had just recently encountered... What had his name been? She scratched an itchy bit of drying gore from under her jaw. Jorath.

 

He smelled... fierce, angry, twisted, pained.

 

It was a sick sort of smell, mixed in with that of the pair she pursued. Askee-ah worried a little. It reminded her of madness-fever, a sickness that could send a whole pack into a frenzied, increasingly erratic state before it killed them. Often by driving them to attack prey more than capable of defending itself.

 

But then Jorath's path diverged from the scent trail they needed to follow.

 

The raptors paused and looked down between the gap in the buildings. They couldn't easily see the demon Vaz but they could smell and hear them. Askee-ah wanted to follow Jorath but her current objective couldn't wait.

 

Askee-ah's overmind took over the descision, drawing up her power and releasing it. Wind and shadow and whisps of steam from a roof vent congealed. She needed raw power for the rest of the components, but it was enough of a start that it didn't cost her too much.

 

A flicker of the raw power of creation, the same force within seeds and eggs, swirled in the wind and faded away. And a new raptor crouched there on the rooftop, skin bright as though it was newly shed.

 

The raptor blinked several times and sniffed at the air. Jorath's scent caught her attention. follow, yes.

 

She stood and walked a circle on the roof, as if unsure of her muscles at first, then leaped the gap between buildings and was gone.

 

The first two raptors looked back down into the darkness. It would be a difficult climb down, made more challenging by the fact that she needed to make a good entrance here, and not alert the pair too soon...

 

One of the raptors misjudged a step halfway down. Claws scrabbled on brick and metal, and she looked at the ground and to her companion. Close enough.

 

The two raptors leaped down in a wave of hissing, jaws wide and claws spread, ducking and weaving, adding fierceness and swift motion to the show of being covered in the dark blood and scent of a recent sucessful hunt. And being demon blood, it was meant to command respect from this demon who smelled of not-inconsiderable power.

 

Askee-ah gave a harsh, high call, accenting it with a taste of her power, for show and to grant her audience understanding of her speech.

 

("Mighty-hunter-Vaz.")

 

It was somewhat more of a snarling buzz at the end than when a human pronounced it, but Askee-ah was pleased she could pronounce the demon's name out loud. The ritual greeting would have been difficult otherwise.

 

One raptor gave a rattling hiss, claws spread and body low to the ground, tail pointed nearly vertical.

 

("We seek a pack alliance.")

 

The other raptor balanced at her full vertical height, her tail nearly touching the dirt and her fearsome eyes some ten feet above the ground. She called a complex series of notes and whipped her tail to one side.

 

("To right the dawn and night and dawn.")

 

The other gave a slippery five-note call.

 

("For the path-that-is-balance.")

 

One of the raptors paused. She looked to the other, snarled and burbled, and made a ducking motion followed by a buzzing noise.

 

("Where is the winged-danger-flier? Gzzia?")

 

The other raptor stilled and blinked, looked at Vaz, its companion, and back to Vaz again, with a growing sense she had, perhaps, not set this up as well as she'd thought.

[AlexisV]

[Elsewhere]

 

The sidewalks were reasonably empty, and once Askee-ah began openly strutting between the pools of streetlight they became completely empty very quickly.

 

She scanned for danger with the little amount of free movememt she was allowed, hissing and snapping to herself. On top of it all she deeply resented the riddiculous gait the sword gave her.

 

A while later the sword picked up on something her vision had briefly swept over.

 

FALSE PROPHETS

 

Unsure what those might be, she glanced back. An open space filled with rows of shining cars with colorful lettering in the windows. Flags fluttered from the eaves of a square building, where the words "GIANT SAVINGS" were painted in the windows. A huge wavering humanoid figure holding a club stood atop the building.

 

"Not a real creature, silly sword." She had been dissapionted to find the inflatable figures weren't real prey as well.

 

THEY PROCLAIM SALVATION BY A FALSE IDOL

 

Askes-ah didn't have the slightest clue what that meant or why it might be bad. The sword sounded earnest, but it sounded that way about everything. Unhappily, Askee-ah's feet veered off her current path and started toward the brightly lit windows.

 

WE SHALL SMITE THEM AND BRING THEIR TEMPLE TO RUIN

 

Askee-ah had already tried losing her balance on purpose and shutting her eyes so the sword couldn't "see" through her (it was an unpleasant, itchy sensation) and other tricks. They worked to keep the sword from moving her feet but she was powerless to regain her own control. So she hung on grimly as the sword carried her forward.

 

She'd expected to make for the front doors but the sword had other ideas.

 

With two kicks, the blades on her killing claws sliced an effortless hole through the steel frames and glass windows, and she leaped into the brightly lit, oily smelling office, slipping a little on the tile.

The sword carried her into an awkward leap that landed on a wooden desk with a colossal BANG.

 

There were several humans inside, and they had all become very still. One dropped the small black object he had been holding to his ear.

 

And then the room flared in a blinding light, and sourceless words in a familar brassy tone thundered through the room.

 

REPENT, FALSE PROPHETS. KNEEL BEFORE THE LIGHT AND THE GLORY.

 

With nothing she could do to the contrary, Askee-ah gave in to the path of chaos she'd been carried down and punctuated the words with a screeching battle cry.

 

Two of the humans did kneel. One dived behind a desk, and one crouched to one knee, both hands scrambling for something at his waist.

 

GIVE UP YOUR POWER AND YOUR WEALTH FOR THEY SHALL BE AS ASH.

 

"Don't shoot, just take the money, don't shoot!" A frightened, thin voice from behind the desk called out.

 

There were fumbling, banging noises, and a steel box was thrown up over the desk. It slapped down on the floor and popped open. A ring of metal and a flurry of greenish leaves burst from it.

 

The other man who hadn't kneeled had drawn a small shiny black object from his waist. His arms tensed, and a moment later his expression pained.

 

The sword's voice crashed inside Askee-ah's mind. 

 

GOOD, SEE, THEY ACKNOWLEDGE AND GIVE TRIBUTE 

 

Askee-ah tried frantically to assure the sword he was not.

 

The man drew back the black object, ran a thumb across it, and pointed it again. A deafening POP and a burst of fire flashed from it. The window behind Asked-ah shattered.

 

Another bullet whined past her, and a third shatted a light fixture before the sword realized the danger.

 

But now it was disoriented, it made her backtrack to run, she fell off the desk, righted herself, blundered into a window, slashed and shattered it with her claws, and finally leaped through into the night.

 

She dented the hood of the nearest car as she landed on it. A loud rising-falling screech started emanating from it.

Another gunshot rang out behind her. She scrambled for speed, blade-wrapped claws shredding the steel of the car, and jumped to the roof of another, and another, leaving honking horns and ruined body panels and general chaos in her wake.

 

She hit solid ground and ran until well out of sight of the car lot.

 

Annoyingly, the sword resumed the irritating gait it insisted on giving her.

 

It wasn't long before the lights of another used car lot, unfortunately with similarly worded sale advertising, came into view.

 

AH. THERE ARE MANY SUCH TEMPLES HERE.

 

And before Askee-ah could say anything to the contrary, the sword spoke again.

 

WE WILL BE MORE SUCCESSFUL WITH THE NEXT ONE.

 

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Edited May 10, 2020 by AlexisV
Line spacing fix