[u][i]Atticus-The Keep[/i][/u]

She was different, and remarkably so. The strength and pulsing lust that thrummed from her tiny figure like a struck harp chord rang against his body, telling him, demanding him to push to the very limit of his being. The inked demons, and angels alike, that littered his back writhed and bucked, yearning for the amorous duel that was about to transpire. 

So singular was his infernal, carnal focus that Atticus did not comprehend the world beyond the body of Siya until the roar of a werewolf pierced through the hood of desire, and rang hollow in his ears. He dropped his hands from the vampire’s body, and let out a low growl of disbelief. Atticus’ mouth opened to let out a litany of curses, but he stopped as Siya summed up their combined angst with her own slew of dark oaths.

In lieu of dressing, Atticus merely refastened his jeans, and willed his body to transform into its true demonic embodiment. His skin bled into a burnt red, a long reptilian tale snaked from his lower back, bat-like wings split from his shoulders, and a pair of long, curling ram’s horns sprouted from above his burning eyes. 

For the briefest of moments, he regarded Siya, standing there clothed in his shirt, her doll-like body slight, but somehow exuding a grim, deadly essence that brought a smile to his face. To her statement of things not being finished between them, his eyebrow raised in a silent gesture that said, [i]Oh, we’re not even close.[/i]

With a nod of finality, Atticus shifted his manner fully to that of a man prepared to deliver souls to the very gates of Hades. He moved to the bedroom’s door and opened it to the hallway. The sounds of a strange cacophony of shouts, explosions, shattering glass, and cries of agony filled his ears. 

“Shit.”

Atticus moved into the hallway, his wings tucked tightly against his body to allow him to move in the tighter confines. When he reached the entrance to the great room, what met him there defied belief. 

He saw the riven window, glass shards strewn about the grand space in all directions. There were balls of energy flying and exploding in the air. His friends were there, all moving and reacting in a strange dance he could not yet comprehend. Aislinn Hoyle, who appeared either dead or unconscious, was being hauled bodily away from the crippled body of her brother by Archibald Bain, and on top of it all, it was…raining?

As he stood there, frozen with confusion, Bain caught him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Assassins are amongst us! They’re cloaked somehow. We must get Aislinn to the shade gates. Nothing else matters.” The vampire called to Atticus and Siya, just as he swung his sword in a broad arc, the blade striking nothing but empty air.

Atticus heard Bain’s words, and leapt, his wings beating him upward into the high ceiling of the keep. With the rain that fell in torrential sheets trying to push him downwards, he circled as best he could, his eyes scanning the floor below.

For several moments he flew without success. The roar of the rain reverberated inside of the keep, and frustration built in his chest. With a beat of his wings he glanced over towards one of the massive fireplaces, now steaming and dark beneath the unnatural rain. Beside one of the stone statues that made up the hearth, a disturbance was visible in the falling drops. The unmistakable silhouette of a large, humanlike form shone in relief as the water pooled off the invisible figure, and bent the light around it.

“There!” Atticus bellowed, pointing with a red finger for all his compatriots to see.