Ved
	He moved briskly, with purpose, his fingers fiddling in his pocket with a pair of brass-knuckles he had received from his grandfather on his 16th birthday.
[i]"You're a man now kid, and a man in this family won't be caught dead without one of these."[/i]
	He hadn't gone a month without using the bittersweet present in over five years. That was the day he first started hearing the voices.
[color=9e0b0f]"You really think this fucking psycho will help? Bitch probably doesn't have a clue what she's talking about."[/color]
	He said aloud, in the strained, deep voice of his demon.
[color=ed1c24]"Yeah well at least I'm fuckin trying, last attempt you made put me in a hospital for Schizophrenia."[/color]
	Wrath kept quiet after that, it wasn't a fond memory for either of them, being locked away for over a month getting pumped with meds that only blurred their vision. He slipped his fingers through the slots in his brass knuckles, keeping his hands in his white and green hoodie pockets. He looked down in contempt as he saw dust settling on his otherwise spotless combat boots. He Polished these damn things twice a week and had lost his polishing kit on the flight to Scotland, resulting in the horrible idea of not being able to clean them for an indefinite period of time. With the crunching of gravel at his feet, he came into the vision of the castle and vice versa for the other, presumably possessed, members.