Slayer

The Fall, the Hit, the Break (Slayer&Never).

// - R e i s a n
[I have lived one thousand lies.]

Reisan watched as the small, copper haired woman ran on ahead, probably with the intent of provoking him into scurrying after her. With a short laugh, Reisan contented himself with walking, intending to show Sierra a level of trust in the fact that she could not run from him. Unconscious to the fact a large smile curved his mouth wickedly; Reisan pushed his hands into the pockets at his pants, exposing a narrow strip of heavily scarred but tanned abdomen as he walked with single-minded purpose.

Fluffy clouds danced and whirled slowly across the sky above, partially blocking the sun from shining down for but a moment, dappling the ground in shadow. Peering up at the sky, Reisan sighed. Memories of soaring high above, carried by his large silver tainted black wings, delicate feathers caressing the winds plagued his mind. Reisan felt as though his heart was being squeezed when he remembered his old life. The life that he could never go back to, all because this being so often referred to as “God” kicked him out of heaven. Scrubbing a calloused hand over his features, Reisan slipped his hands into his pockets and continued after Sierra, lost in deep thoughts of complete desolation.

A brightly coloured, cheerful looking shop came into Reisan’s view, musing to himself, he thought dryly; // If I wasn’t so messed up, or if I were human, I would bring Sierra here every morning just to see her smile. // Shaking his head, the Fallen’s shoulders slumped forward as he entered the store, gaze settling on Sierra as she ordered her meal.

Strange, dark emotions flittered through Reisan as he noticed the boy behind the counter gazed at Sierra with an expression that said exactly what he’d like to do with her. Rage blinded his senses; even as Sierra turned and spoke to him before walking over to a worn booth, settling down to await her meal. The beast stirred within its cage, snarling with menace. What right did this human think he had to look at Sierra like that...? // She isn’t yours, Reisan; she could never be with someone like you. Broken. Scarred. Disgraced...// The words floated through Reisan’s mind, breaking through the red haze that covered his eyes and had fire licking scant millimetres beneath his skin.

Licking his lips, Reisan looked up at the menu board, settling on something called a ‘cappuccino’ as a drink and a plate of some food called ‘pancakes with ice-cream and syrup’, deciding they would be the most energy filled substances to get him through the day, even though his millennia old body required no sustenance to survive, Reisan had no idea how to sit down and share a meal with another. In five long strides, Reisan found himself standing in front of the booth Sierra was seated at. He stretched out his form, yawning as he did so, cracking his knuckles before he seated himself on the bench opposite the female.

Reisan was overcome with the sudden urge to tell her this was the first meal he had shared with another. And also the first he had eaten in over 800 years. “Uh, Sierra, I… Tis’ a first for me.” The confession rushed out of him before he could think, his accent thick. “I do not need to eat or drink, doing so is an unnecessary choice, but I am able to take in sustenance as it suits me. I’ve never shared a meal with another, nor have I consumed food for over 800 years.” Running a hand through his hair, Reisan had no idea why he felt obligated to share that information with Sierra.

Behind the window to his left, clouds ambled across the sky slowly, the sun trying with vain to break through for long periods, instead settling for breaks in the clouds to dapple the world with its warming rays. The Fallen unconsciously rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, crossing his arms on the table, tracing one of the raised ugly scars marring the flesh of his right arm; the action calming him.

Footsteps neared their table as the boy from behind the counter came towards them, plates of food balanced on his arms and their drinks held within each of his hands. With haste, the boy placed their meals on the table before scurrying off, out of sight. Heady scents filled the air, making Reisan’s mouth water as he inhaled. Glancing over at Sierra, he noticed she had unrolled a knife and fork from a napkin and started to eat. Mimicking her actions, Reisan did the same, cutting into a pale, flat disk shaped dough that appeared to be a pancake, swirling it in some syrup before placing it in his mouth.

Flavour exploded on Reisan’s pallet, chewing slowly, the fallen closed his eyes, exhaled and groaned softly. The pancake was light and fluffy, the syrup sickly sweet and lightly flavoured with an assortment of fruits, none of which Reisan had tasted before. Glancing at Sierra with an expression mixed with surprise, wonder and sadness. Never before had someone cared enough to show him things like this. It was expected that Reisan was the emotionally blank, uncaring angel who carried out justice. No-one had asked if he was ok, cared enough to show him kindness. That was until this tiny slip of a woman. Although the probably hated him and believed him to be her captor, Reisan had experienced more of the world with this single woman than he had with any of his brothers or on his own.

Blinking slowly, Reisan was all but purring with the deliciousness of the food he was eating. Swallowing a mouthful, Reisan set his knife and fork down, reaching out slowly to touch Sierra’s forearm softly so she looked at him. “Thank you, Sierra, for sharing this meal with me.” With a swallow, Reisan breathed slowly. In. Out. Before removing his hand and settling them in his lap, hunching slightly as he looked out the window at the world beyond. A pair of lovers were kissing on a bench, an elderly couple were laughing and smiling, swinging their entwined hands back and forth between them, children laughed and ran about in the park under the tender, yet watchful gazes of their mothers. It seemed that everyone bar Reisan was entitled to happiness. Everyone but him had found it and yet happiness was something he had never known. Each smile never touched his eyes nor his heart.

Materialising himself a dark grey hoodie, Reisan refused to meet Sierra’s gaze. Too scared by what she might see in his eyes, written all over his tired and weary face. “Sierra, I… I’m sorry for what has happened to you. My brothers will do anything to get their hands on you. I’ve tried to keep you safe, but it is clear you are unhappy under my care. You may go, do as you please, but go far from here, tell no-one your name and be careful. I-I’m too broken. Too scarred, too insensitive, I don’t know how to act with people. Please, please forgive me.” The confession rushed out of Reisan, gaze moving to the plate of pancakes before him.

With a sigh, Reisan met her gaze for but a glimpse, pulling the hoodie over his head before striding from the small shop, shutting the door behind him with the sound of a tinkling bell. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, Reisan headed towards the beach, guided by the soft sound of waves lapping at the beach and the ever present smell of salt water. With each of his footsteps, the land beneath Reisan’s feet faded from earth to sand as he made his way to the rockier part of the beach, perching himself upon a large, flat rock which jutted above the sand. Gazing out over the water, he watched as the sun lowered itself below the horizon. Waves crashed upon rock, sending water spraying into the air. The world moved on, grew old, changed, evolved, lived, died. That is, everything except for one oversized, emotionally unstable Fallen Angel, who had no place on earth, nor in the heavens.

The Fall, the Hit, the Break (Slayer&Never).

// - R e i s a n
[I have lived one thousand lies.]

The bed beside Reisan was cold. Jerking himself into a sitting position, his gaze tore around the room, detecting wafts of steam sliding out from underneath the bathroom door. //Sierra must be taking a shower.// Reisan thought to himself. Blinking his obsidian orbs slowly, Reisan tried to ignore the images flowing through his mind; of warm water sliding over Sierra’s tanned skin, the slight sound of movement and indeed, drops of water hitting her soft skin had his jaw tightening and his muscles bunching. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Reisan ran a hand over the scratchy bed linen, which some time years ago had been new and white, but now lay a hue somewhere between faint brown and grey. Lying back, the fallen tried to get some more sleep, closing his eyes and ignoring the sound of Sierra shuffling around in the bathroom.

A soft scent hit Reisan’s nose as he smelt Sierra before his eyes even fell to gaze upon the petite vampire. Sunshine, coconut, mango, lavender and the slight tang of salty ocean water. A heady perfume that Reisan had already committed to memory and associated with Sierra. Swallowing quietly, Reisan lay immobile as she moved around the room, padding lightly across the floor, shuffling around in cupboards and in the fridge. The simple act of being able to lay quiet while another moved around, was a big thing for the tough Fallen; while he lay unguarded, Everans too far out of reach if she were to even think of being as silly as to attack him. Not that he would use the blade against Sierra. Well, not unless he had to. There were many ways he could immobilise her and then use restraints to try and calm her, if it even came to that. Surely the girl had more sense than to pick a fight with such an ancient warrior.

Paper rustled. Sierra had found something and was reading it. Opening his eyes into slits, their obsidian depths hidden by a fringe of black lashes focussed on the small woman as her face light with excitement. Dear Gods, he hoped she wasn’t interested in whatever lay on the paper. He just wasn’t in the mood for relaxing. He had to protect her, even if that meant making an enemy out of himself and denying her the ability to even leave his side for but a moment. Flame licked beneath his skin as images of what had happened to her at the hands of one who he had called his ‘brother’ played over and over. The snap of bone, the dark purple bruises blossoming over pale skin, the vacant expression in her usually vibrant eyes, he just couldn’t take the assault of feeling that he had towards the event. He shouldn’t care anything for her. And yet he did. The immovable, emotionally lacking Fallen felt a quickening of his heartbeat and tightening in his body every time he lay eyes upon Sierra.

//Sierra.// He spoke the word aloud in his mind, allowing himself the taste the very essence of her as the name rolled around his mind. Ore flames gathered beneath his skin as she continued to move around, coming closer and closer to the bed. Reisan swallowed and closed his eyes tightly, trying to appear asleep. Springs groaned and the bed creaked as she dived under the blankets, startling Reisan, fire licking from his fingertips to set the bed spread alight. Shoving she small woman out, Reisan laughed loudly, the sound startled, as flames danced and writhed, rebelling against his call to withdraw back into his skin, burning marks into the grey bed spread, filling the room with a slight smoke. Thank Gods the fire detectors didn’t even work.

“Shit.” Reisan growled in a low voice, ripping off his shirt and walking over to the scratched, stainless steel sink, jerking the tap on full ball as water splashed everywhere, turning to steam as it came into contact with his skin. Swinging around, he strode over to the bed, water running in rivets down his forearms, sizzling softly. Extinguishing the flames with the soaked material, Reisan frowned at the mess he had made of the bed. Sheets blackened and charred from where the flames had eaten away at the cotton. “Uh, sorry about that, you startled me.” Chuckling humorlessly, Reisan looked at Sierra, a wolfish half-smile gracing his lips. “Next time, don’t startle me so much, I could have hurt you.” A frown creased Reisan’s brow as his features turned serious. Getting slightly aggravated at the fact Sierra would probably never believe what he was doing was for her own good; that he was actually far from the bad guy.

The shirt in Reisan’s hands was starting to drip water into the floor, giving the Fallen something, other than Sierra, to focus on. Clearing his throat, the Fallen caught sight of a piece of paper laying atop the pile of clothes he had created for himself before he had gone to bed. Standing barefoot and wearing only a pair of loose, low-slung military pants, Reisan strode over to investigate the piece of paper. Balling the shirt in his hands, he murmured the bold, colourful words as his eyes scanned along. Sighing, he balled up his shirt and threw it into the bathroom where it landed on the while tiles with a splat. Keeping his back to her made Reisan uncomfortable, it made him feel as though she was judging him because of his scars, the deepest of which lay upon his back in vertical lines, scarring deep gouges into his otherwise tanned skin. Picking up his bundle of clothes he turned to eye Sierra, the party invitation crumpling in his hand when he moved. “If we go. And that’s a big, IF, my dear. You will not defy me in any way, you will not leave my side. Even to feed. And I’m guessing that is the reason you are wanting to go, yes?” Pausing for her answer, he scrubbed a hand over his face, gaze settling upon her small form once more. The beat within him stirred when he noticed just how good she looked in the clothes he had summoned for her. The fact that she had brought forth these feelings in him had him confused, yet oddly satisfied that he had been able to care for her.

“I’m going for a shower, Angel, stay here. The room is warded so no-one can get in or out through any passage.” Shock flitted through Reisan when he noticed he had given her an affectionate name. //Angel. Angel? Where the fuck did you get that from, Reisan. She isn’t yours and nor should she ever want to be. You’re damaged. Broken.// The beast taunted him from within, knowing just how deeply the fallen had started to care for this woman. Grunting, he moved into the shower, tossing his clothes onto the floor, far enough out of the shower’s reach to ensure they wouldn’t get wet. Unbuckling the belt at the front of his pants and undoing the button, Reisan realized he had forgotten to shut the door. Chuckling to himself, he moved to do so.

Stripping himself naked, the tall fallen stepped into the shower and shut the glass door afterwards. With a turn of his head, Reisan caught the metal shower head on his brow, the unexpected pain had flames licking up his arms. He took a breath to calm himself, adjusting the shower head to compensate for his height and stepping under the hot jet of water, he groaned and massaged his temples, grateful for the luxurious heat. There had been many times in his life that Reisan had not had the luxury of bathing, and when he did, it was mainly cold water un a tub or out in a river or stream. The shower and hot water systems were something Reisan could actually thank the human race for inventing. Lathering his skin with a bar of soap, he rinsed off before reaching over to the small shelf and selecting a bottle of coconut and mango shampoo. Opening the bottle, the pungent perfume hit his nostrils, one scent that had him longing to bury his face into the fall of bronze curls that belonged to Sierra, nuzzle is face against the curve of her neck and simply hold her in an embrace while he deciphered the complex perfume that was Sierra.

Shutting off the shower, he stepped out and grabbed one of the towels hanging on the rack to his left, towelling himself off. The soft, fluffy white towels looked near to new, probably the only new things this hotel had seen in years. Pulling on the pair of black military pants he had summoned, Reisan threaded his belt through the top of his pants before bending down to grab his shirt. Opening the door, Reisan ran a hand through his blonde locks, tasseling the strands to air them before slipping on the black tee that stuck to his chest like a second skin, defining his heavy muscles. Buttoning his pants and bucking his belt, Reisan strode over to the bed, sitting down to pull on some heavy socks, following them with his combat boots. His whole attire screamed sexy but killer. Emphasis on the killer. Looking over to Sierra, his heart beat slightly harder as he smiled at her. Slightly surprised by the fact he was smiling, Reisan stood and walked over to the smaller woman, touching her cheek lightly with the knuckles of his left hand. His smile was genuine. Possibly the first one he had managed since falling.

“Come on Angel. If you wish to attend this party I will take you. But do not run from me. I’m not the enemy. As hard as that may be to comprehend, you’re the first person I have felt this at ease with. Do not make me regret placing my trust in you, little one.” The scent of mangoes and coconut clung to her, invading his senses, overriding them and giving him the urge to once more bury his face into the sweet curve where her neck flowed into her shoulder. His left hand slid to one of her copper curls, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, the scent a drug that seemed to calm the beast within him. “You look stunning.” Sighing as he straightened, Reisan ran a hand through his hair again, before turning to the door, opening it to reveal the world outside. Stepping back like a gentleman, Reisan bowed and gallantly swept a hand in gesture towards the door. “After you, Angel.”

The Fall, the Hit, the Break (Slayer&Never).

// - R e i s a n
[I have lived one thousand lies.]

Emotions flittered through Reisan. She had accepted his offer of allowing her his blood. Worry creased his brow, why was he being so god damn nice to her!? She held the key to his ultimate salvation, the key to the revenge his immortal soul had longed for ever since he saw his wings laying broken and mutilated in the dirt before him. That day, a part of Reisan had died. The light had gone out of his soul and was to be replaced by a strangling darkness which threatened to choke what little good was left. Sighing, he took notice of Sierra’s words, allowing himself to close his eyes to the beautiful melody that was her voice. The cuffs lay constricted around her slim, tanned wrists. The runes had done their job well, holding against her abnormal strength.
Standing up, Reisan allowed himself to tower over Sierra’s small, dainty form. They were different in every way. She was light, he was darkness. He was fire, she was water. Reaching around, the fallen took her bound wrists in his hands, eyes locking with hers as he spoke chanting words. Fire slid into the boy’s midnight eyes, blazing with the power and magic of his chant. The runes outlined with smouldering flames, glowing softly before the fire slid out of the carve marks and into his hands. Runes flashed up Reisan’s forearms to pool at his scars, stretching and contorting as they lit up in a sick map of fiery strokes. Reisan’s brow knitted in confusion, this had never happened before! Normally the runes just flashed and obeyed his command. Having used magic and the art of casting runes for centuries, Reisan considered himself a master at manipulating and bending the dark power to his will. The boy had only placed the simplest of guarding runes onto the corroding iron, never before had he experienced any kind of trouble with the casting or removal of runes, not even with the most dark and dangerous ones such as casting portals to hell. Blinking, the boy looked down at his arms to realize the fire had withdrawn. What the hell had just happened? Had the girl even noticed that he used magic instead of the handful of random keys in his palm? Reisan scrubbed at his face with his hand, attempting to clear away the haunting vision of the rune fire.
Sierra spoke with a low tone, but the words were lost to the boy. He saw her pink tinted lips move, suggesting the flow of words, but nothing registered. Frowning, Reisan allowed her to lead him to a small yoga mat before lowering himself to lay flat. The cool mat comforted him, pressing cold into the heated skin of his back. Lungs burning for air, the boy realized he had been unconsciously holding his breath the whole time. Lowing eyelids to veil his obsidian orbs, Reisan allowed himself to breath, in, out, trying to calm himself of the nerves which ran havoc through him. Sierra continued to talk, although this time her soft voice managed to penetrate his mental walls.
“I am immortal, Sierra, you need not fear killing me. I have been cursed to live in darkness and choke on the hate of a self-destructing world by the being the inhabitants of this planet call holy and gracious. If he were as they believed he would not have ripped out my wings. He took who I am Sierra, he broke me. Now I am nothing more than scars. I am a weapon, one who has taken the lives of many. The bastard placed immortality on me in the cruellest of tortures. I am to see babies born, grow up, fall in love, have children of their own and die, a forever turning wheel. God took my ability to die.” Pausing to let his words sink in before he continued, “A small bite from you, little vampire, amounts to nothing in the memories of what I have endured. I lost more blood when my wings were ripped out, and I was sent down to earth with a broken body and a shattered soul. Do not think me soft; do not mistake me for one who cares. On top of everything I have lost, I’ve experienced too much death, its blackened me and taken away all that is good. I am fire, Sierra, I burn those who come closest to me. It takes away everything until I am nothing.”
Reisan was surprised at how soft his voice had been as he spoke of himself. Never before had the fallen ever had the urge to share anything about himself, until now. This Sierra, beautiful Sierra made him feel at peace after thousands of years of torment. Smiling weakly, eyes raised to meet the smoky violet ones peering down at him with hunger and curiosity filtering in their depths. All the anxiety and tenseness drained out of her features, it was as though keeping her fangs hidden brought her pain and releasing them brought a feeling of bliss. Reisan, probably more than anyone, knew how she felt. The angel knew what it was like to keep the true nature of yourself hidden. More than once he had been forced to contort his wings and crush them beneath jackets to keep who, no what, he was hidden from people when he spent time on earth. The simple act of releasing his wings from their position and take to the sky was one of the only things that brought agony and sadness to Reisan’s heart.
All conscious thought flew out the window as Sierra brushed her lips against his neck. Supressing a moan of pleasure, Reisan sucked in a quick, sharp breath as her fangs sunk into his neck. The pain lasted only a moment before waves of pleasure rolled through him. Groaning in appreciation, Reisan allowed his hands to settle on her ribs, holding the girl to him in an embrace neither pulling her towards him nor pushing away. The boy’s veins sang and his blood rushed to exit his body to be drawn into her mouth. It was well know that vampire bites were addictive and brought extreme pleasure to both people involved, but Reisan wasn’t expecting anything like this. Feeling edgy and out of control, tension leeched its way into Reisan, but it was no match for the desire and arousal Sierra brought him.
Reisan felt the girl shift to withdraw her fangs, sated with a belly full of blood; she seemed less uncontrolled and spoke with a loosened tongue, as though she had been drinking too much alcohol. A breath hissed out of Reisan as she leaned back to straddle his hips. The fallen hadn’t realized how aroused he had become. Clenching his jaw, the angel turned his thoughts to other things, allowing his body to calm down. Thankfully, Sierra remained oblivious. Reisan allowed the breath he was holding to hiss out from between his clenched teeth. Eyes looking up cautiously into Sierra’s face as she wiped a smear of his blood from her mouth.
A warm trickle of blood slid down Reisan’s neck, slightly annoying him. Sierra shifted against his hips, causing the angel to once more clench his teeth, before she reached back to pull his shirt over her head to press against his neck and stop the bleeding. //Oh God!// Reisan pleaded in his mind. She was beautiful. And there was no doubt there was a connection between them. But no. NO! This could not happen. Would never happen again. Reisan refused to be the reason for this girl’s death. Fire danced tauntingly just under his skin as though proving his thoughts. The material pressed against the wound, soaking up any free-flowing blood and pressing against the wound to stop the bleeding.
Reisan watched with flickering orbs as Sierra stood up and waltzed over to the fridge, inspecting the interior and selecting a red cordial, before walking back to offer him a drink. The icy, strawberry flavoured water slid down his throat, extinguishing some of the flames writhing, begging for him to let them roam. Allowing his eyelids to drift down, covering the obsidian orbs beneath, taking a shaky breath, the boy attempted to calm his racing heart. //What the fuck Reisan!? Pull your fucking act together!// Growling words through his mind before he voiced them, or punched something…or someone.
[color=white]”Why the fuck is she not chained up Reisan!?” A low pitched, barely controlled voice broke through Reisan’s mental walls. Groaning, he looked over to where his brother, Lucas, stood at the door frame. A dark stain spread across the floor, leeching its way across the dark tiles in a sickening, oily black as Reisan realized Lucas had brought something to knock Sierra out. Fire roared to life within him, battering its way towards the surface, demanding to be let out and to hurt. Kill. Protect. The boy barely had time to throw up a block before it roared its way to the surface... all for Sierra.
Bearing his teeth towards the older angel at the door frame, Reisan couldn’t help but laugh as Lucas was thrown backwards after coming into contact with the invisible protective barrier at the door. Slipping his aloof, haunting mask back over his features, Reisan got up, eyes flickering to Sierra before glaring down at her, all previous pleasure and thoughts towards her thrown out the window. “Stay here Sierra. Do not make an attempt to help me. Do not move. Do not speak.” Fire writhed against the barrier he had hastily thrown up to protect her from being hurt by his flame, flickering dangerously in his previously obsidian orbs in a warning. Stalking back towards the door frame, Reisan acknowledged Lucas.
“You should have known better than to think I would not put protective runes on the door, brother. Sorry if I bruised your ass. And your ego.” Reisan glared at his brother who lay sprawled on the floor, Lucas hadn’t made an attempt to get up. Frustration and worry filled Reisan. Why the fuck was Lucas not getting up!? Walking through the door way, he felt the protection runes falter, before going out. The fallen swung around to look at the door. //What the fuck is going on!?// Reisan growled to himself. First the runes holding Sierra had acted strangely and now his strongest runes of protection had suddenly gone out. Something was wrong. Something was happening and Reisan had no idea what. Confusion gnawed at his insides.
Before the fallen had time to react, a fist smashed into the side of his face, catching him when he least expected it. The floor beneath Reisan rose up to greet him, as he smacked dazed onto the tiles, slick with the sickly green syrup concoction Lucas had brought with him to knock out Sierra. Blinking away the haze pain brought to his sight, Reisan looked up into the sneering face of Lucas. The fallen spat words at Reisan before strolling through the un-warded door to seize Sierra. Anger flared through Reisan. //Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine!// The word keened through his mind as his eyes locked with the fear filled smoky violet ones of Sierra.
With a loud growl, Reisan struggled to his feet, slipping on the syrup coated tiles, glass shredding his hands before embedding itself deep into his flesh. “You fucking asshole Lucas! Get the fuck away from her before I tare you limb from fucking limb!” Reisan’s rage and hate for Lucas cleared his mind, honing his gaze on the dark haired boy who had a strangle hold on Sierra. Lucas could easily kill her then and there, a gentle twist of her head could disconnect it from her neck, a gentle thrust over her heart could send his hand deep inside her chest to rip out her heart. The possibilities of her death were endless. Reisan looked into Sierra’s eyes once more, hoping she would twist out of his grasp the moment he attacked Lucas.
Instinct drove Reisan into action, sending a bolt of unseen flame at the other fallen, causing him to loosen his grip on the girl. Sierra struggled against his hands, tearing herself from his grasp. Reisan could only watch in horror as Lucas swiped at the girl, hand curling around her throat crushing her wind pipe and snapping her neck in a sickening crunch. The sound slapped Reisan in the face. Gritting his teeth, the angel roared in fury as something snapped within him, took him over and consumed him from the inside out. Sierra crumpled to the floor, eyes stared at the ceiling with an unseeing focus.
The beast roared again in fury, the sound shaking the whole building with its belligerent anger. The sound chilled Reisan to the bone. //Where the fuck had that come from…?// And then it hit him. It had come from himself. Fire had overtaken Reisan’s mind and body, finally released from its cage, the fallen could only watch as it, no he, tore at Lucas, ripping his arm from its socket, inflicting pain and hurt on the other immortal. Reisan felt stronger, faster, invincible even, his already heavily muscled frame filled even more, adding ropes of steel corded muscle. Reisan’s golden hair swirled around his head, disobeying gravity as it crackled with electricity. Lucas didn’t stand a chance.
Snarling and prowling the space between his fallen brother and Sierra, Reisan struggled to get back in control of himself. Movement caught out of his left eye as Sierra’s body healed, mending her broken neck and crushed wind pipe even though she still remained unconscious. Violent coughing erupted from her small frame, distracting the beast long enough for Reisan to get under control. This time, the beast willingly settled back in its cage, curling in on itself and going to sleep, content and settled after finally being allowed to roam freely. Shuddering in deep breaths of cool air, Reisan turned and strode over to Sierra. Dropping to his knees, the boy gently brushed a few strands of hair from her face, eyes darting over her with worry. Reisan had to get her out of here. The fallen was right to have had suspicion of his eldest brother; he should have doubted Lucas had changed. Scooping Sierra up into his arms, Reisan grabbed Everans by the sheath, walked out of the room, up the stairs and out into the pallid moonlight.
Lights flew past as cars drove around and signs screamed for attention, drawing the gaze of various passers-by. At this time or night, or rather morning, only thieves, druggies, whores and clubbers would be out. Slipping from shadow to shadow, Reisan tried to keep out of view. A man covered in blood, carrying an unconscious woman who had bruises all over her neck and holding a massive sword would cause panic among onlookers. Bright signs faded into security fences and dilapidated buildings with crumbling bricks. Up ahead, a sickly yellowed light sat alone and desolate on the road before Reisan. Somewhere in the distance a woman screamed, gunshots sliced through the quiet night and all was silent once more. Bugs swarmed in the pool of light, mesmerised by its glow as though it would give them something, or save them perhaps.
Sighing, Reisan walked on, his footfalls the only sound in the still night as his eyes fixed into the darkness. The boy was drawn to a neon sign like the bugs behind him had been to the street lamp. The sign read “Premium Accommodation. Vacancy.” Due to the burnt out lights, chipped paint, graffiti and bars on the windows, the building indicated by the sign looked horrific and spoke nothing of premium. Smiling to himself, Reisan realized it was the perfect place to lay low for the night. His brothers would not suspect he had come to this part of the neighbourhood, and this meant the fallen could at least get a good night’s sleep, a shower if he was lucky and enough time to allow Sierra to heal properly. At the reminder he held the limp girl in his arms, Reisan gazed down into her face, features illuminated in a sickly gaunt expression by the moon above.
After placing her in one of the faded, once floral printed, sofas, Reisan strapped Everans once more to his back, before pushing open the glass door, setting off a tinkling bell which alerted the owners someone was at the front desk. The young teenage male behind the counter looked to be about 19, sickly thin with his greasy black hair ruffled around his head, horrific acne and thick glasses. A scratched nametag suggested his name was Eric. Compelling the boy was easy enough, so Reisan was able to secure himself and Sierra one of the new rooms. Smiling, the fallen thanked Eric before swiping the small set of keys from the counter and proceeding outside once more. Gazing down at the number attached to the keys on a small tag, Reisan noted they would be staying in room 13 on the second floor.
Once more gathering Sierra into his arms, Reisan started the short climb to their room, all the while the girl remained unconscious, oblivious to everything. Opening the badly painted green door with a tacked on ‘13’, the smell of fresh paint and cleaning products assaulted the Fallen’s nose. Walking over to the lone double bed, Reisan placed the girl gently on the covers, noting a small shiver dart over her skin. Eyes roaming over her cautiously, noting she had no clothes other than the small bikini she had been wearing for the whole day. Rubbing his palms together, Reisan knew he should use magic to summon clothes for her. Turning his back to Sierra, Reisan padded to the centre of the room, dropping to sit cross legged on the floor, eyes closed, arms spread palms up. Chanting words, Reisan felt the familiar brush of power as magic stitched and formed clothes for the girl.
Opening his eyes, a neatly folded stack of clothes lay piled before him. Simple black skinny jeans, a dark grey long sleeved shirt, socks, a white bra and panties set and knee high leather boots greeted his touch. Returning to his chant, Reisan summoned some clothing for himself. Black jeans, black shirt. His comfort clothes and modern battle armour. The girl obviously preferred skimpy, vibrantly coloured clothes, but with his limited ability to summon clothing, what he had would have to do. Collecting the piles of clothes, he got up, placing hers on the small bedside table to the right of the bed. Turning, the fallen strode into the bathroom, locking the door and stripping himself of clothes before turning on the shower and stepping into the scolding hot water.
After towelling himself dry and dressing in his new clothes, Reisan walked back into the small bedroom watching from the shadows as Sierra slept on. Crossing to the barred window, the fallen looked out into the night’s sky where planes made their way across the vast expanse of darkness. A bitter taste coated Reisan’s mouth at the sight of the planes. Pathetic humans thought they could claim the sky with their giant metal contraptions. Humans thought themselves kings of everything after they claimed the sky with these planes, thought them swift and elegant when in reality, they had the grace of a toddler learning to walk. They had nothing on the agility nor the grace and speed of true flight of the birds and not a single thing on the flight of angels. Sighing, Reisan turned away from the sight, both angered and sickened by the human race once again.
Sauntering over to the bed, the boy gently picked up Sierra, placing her under the covers before crawling in after her. No way in hell was she leaving his side. Not when she was hurt and he had just stolen something that his brothers and Lucifer wanted so badly. Yawning widely, Reisan closed his eyes, shut off his thoughts and relaxed into the bed. Sleep pulled him under, wrapping him up in warmth and safety before the nightmares began.

The Fall, the Hit, the Break (Slayer&Never).

// - R e i s a n
[I have lived one thousand lies.]

Reisan peered at the girl before him intently, obsidian eyes glowing faintly as embers smouldered in the depths. She intrigued him, not only had he studied her form, but she had returned the gesture, pointing out his scars, saying she had seen worse. He doubted that. She may have seen worse physical scars, but the ones which lay tucked away from view were so horrific it seemed impossible he could go on. They were more gruesome than anything his eyes, hardened by years of death and blood of the innocent souls he had slain, had ever seen.
Running a hand through the strands of his golden hair, Reisan sighed, emotions racing through him, causing havoc and confusion to race through his mind. “The shirt stays.” Keeping his voice low, Reisan held her gaze; the boy knew she was trying to seduce him, trying to make him release her. Glancing down at his belt, Reisan considered using one of his poisoned knives on her. He had three that would send her into slumber. The first, a short knockout of one minute, one for an hour, and one that would lock her permanently in sleeps grasp, a death sleep.
Her questions rolled through his mind. How much could he reveal to her without scaring her to death? Reisan felt edgy, it had been hundreds of years since he had found a woman which appealed to him. And the last one had ended up nothing more than charred remains. Memories of the night burned through him, of himself sitting at a desk, drawing the sunset, her laughter breaking through his focus. The look her brown orbs had held as she approached him as though she was walking towards a wild animal. The feeling of her hand in his as she led him through the inn, to his room. Of how innocent she had looked as her soft lips trailed from his collarbone to meet his own. Pain had rippled through him, softly at first, lapped at his feel like gentle waves, but growing in strength until they became massive white-capped waves of fire, completely beyond his control. Her screams as she burned before him, and the last thing he remembered before she dropped to the floor, was the look of horror in her eyes. He was a monster.
Reisan snapped back to reality at the impatient clearing of a throat before him. Tremors danced up and down his body, contracting muscles as memories of that agony tore through him. He had taken an innocent life, one which had only sought to bring him pleasure. Sweat formed all over his skin, creating a sheen in the glaring fluorescent light. Taking a shaky breath, the boy had never experienced anything like that in his life. Waves of sadness, anger and utter disgust within himself coursed through his veins. Never could he let his guard slip, never could he allow himself to form a relationship to anyone. Or anything.
Lowering himself to sit cross legged on the floor, Reisan gathered his thoughts. Eyes focused on the streaks of red nearest him, of his own life’s blood spilt on the ground. Nothing made sense to him. This girl before him had this strange pull on his heart. Anything that was unknown to Reisan worried him, made him back away and plan again. The allure of her gentle sing-song voice caressed his ears in gentle waves. “No. I will not be killing you. It is my job to keep you from harm until I am told what to next. And yes. Cursed one. You are of light and dark, constantly dragged between both. Cursed.” Looking up into her smoky violet orbs, Reisan noticed her fear.
Sighing softly, the boy knew how she must see him. As a creature of darkness, one without feeling, no care for her personal boundaries. “Do not picture me as the bad guy. You have no idea of how I have suffered. Do not associate me with the murders and rapists of this world. I am nothing like them.” Flinging words at her, Reisan allowed hate and anger to lace his voice, turning his words to daggers. Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Reisan knew he had to control himself before the fire overtook him completely, and God knows that would happen if he were to lose control with her around.
Slowly, cautiously, Reisan opened his eyes. Flames had ignited, dancing along his flesh without his knowledge. Breathing in and out, calming himself, Reisan watched as the flames withdrew back under his skin, settling just underneath, ready to spring forth at his command. He didn’t know how to handle females. Sure, in all his years on earth, he had indulged sexually. But he had never been able to go the full way. His element always took the life of every female he had gone beyond pleasuring orally.
Obsidian orbs focusing once more on the streaks of dried blood, it suddenly made him realize, she was vampire. Vampires needed blood. A shudder past through him. It was rumoured that being fed on by a vampire was erotic. But Reisan couldn’t just waltz out onto the street to pluck a random stranger for her to feed off. She would surely kill the person; she looked hungry enough to do so. Steeling his nerves, Reisan realized that he must do it, he was immortal, ancient blood flowed through his veins, blood as powerful of that which coursed in the veins of Lucifer himself.
“You look hungry.” Reisan began slowly, making her aware of just what he offered. “If you wish it, you have my permission to drink at my vein. I am immortal, you cannot kill me. In saying this, you cannot control nor compel me in any way either.” Raising his gaze to lock with that of hers. It had only just occurred to the boy that neither knew the others name. “My name. Is Reisan. I am a fallen angel, the longest and hardest to fall of any since the Dark Prince himself. What is your name?” The thought of him offering his vein to this cursed girl was ludicrous, utter foolishness. But Reisan couldn’t help himself. A small smile curved his mouth. “Oh and one more thing, I have cast runes on the doorways. No-one but me can pass through, unless I disable them. So banish your thoughts of running away, looks like you’re stuck with me for a while.”
A small voice managed to break through his thoughts.”Sierra.” The name was beautiful, it suited her.
“Sierra.” Repeating the name aloud, Reisan allowed his tongue to caress the word. “It is a beautiful name. Your parents named you well. I see strength in you, and innocence.” Reisan highly doubted that she had lost her virginity; she seemed too pure, too innocent. If he was entirely true with himself, Reisan was yet to lose his own. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had the chance to. But the volatile nature of his element had destroyed nearly all hope of having full sex.
Seductive flames danced within his eyes, never before had he toyed with another in this manner. His formal, ancient way seemed lost in this modern world, but never would he change. Casting eyes over his naked torso, Reisan traced along one of the major scars adorning his front. The large scar glared at him, raised and angry. These scars reflected who he was, the pain of what he had become. Drifting his eyelids down to conceal his orbs, Reisan allowed himself to look into his past, of a time when large, graceful wings sprouted from his back.
He had been beautiful once. Well, in the ways of beauty portrayed by ancient artists who managed to capture the portraits of kings and queens. Today, beauty was defined by how sexually attractive or desirable you were. Women found him irresistible, but that view was strictly held by others, never by himself. Reisan was brutality, anger, hatred and agony. Never would he be anything else.
Sighing softly, he knew that it hadn’t always been that way. There was a time, centuries ago when he had smiled and laughed freely, he was of pure spirit. Images of his wings raced behind his eyes. Large, coal black wings with accents of gold and silver. Memories of how they felt wrapped around his form, insulating him from the cold and the heat traced along his skin. Red hazed his vision. Throat constricting as the fallen remembered the agony of Raziel and Gabriel ripping them out, the sight of his wings, bloody and broken, never more to gift him with flight, had broken him. That night, over two thousand years ago, had broken the last tie which held him tethered to all that was good and cast him out into the world of darkness, the only illumination in the dark world he faced, was his own flame as it burned him from the inside out.

The Fall, the Hit, the Break (Slayer&Never).

// - K e e n a n
[Rip it out, Tear it down]

The girl in front of him danced over, purring in a voice of silk from between her soft rose lips. Keenan still felt edgy after having sex with the whore, Arcanzite still racing through his system. The voices hadn’t yet broken through the high of the drug, but they ran their fingers along his skin, probing him, begging him to listen. Snarling, he turned his attention back to the girl. Holy shit she was pretty. And dressed in nothing more than a few scraps of clothing, hair spilling over her shoulders; hips swaying gently as she moved. Keenan knew he had to bed this woman, whether it be in this alley, pressing her up against the wall, or back in his bed. Delicate hands framed his face, brushing over his lower lip. The girls hands gently traced down his neck, shuddering in anticipation, Keenan allowed his own hands to roam over her back, gently brushing the sides of her breasts as he moved.

Groaning with need, the feeling of her skin beneath his hands was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Leaning in to brush his lips against her mouth, trailing them along her jaw and down her neck in soft, teasing kisses. The girl arched into him, smiling with greed, Keenan called upon his element of wind, to gently blow the strands of hair from her face. Hands circling her waist, the boy went to hoist her off the ground, to lean her back against the wall, fingers brushing hungrily along the insides of her thighs.
The emergence door he had just come from burst open with force, bursting outwards, hinges screaming in protest. Lucas stormed out angrily, obviously high off Arcanzite and edgy. Snarling, Keenan loathed Lucas with a cold malicious hatred. Keenan was the youngest, and therefore the one who got the blame for everything. Reisan was ok, at least, but Lucas? Growling, Keenan allowed the girl to gently drop from his grasp, hands retracting from her flesh to ball into fists at his sides. “What the fuck do you want Lucas!?” Words growling towards the startled form before him.
All of a sudden, Lucas was yelling at him. “Get the fuck off her Keenan!” Before mouthing, “Girl! Tattoos!! I’ll get Reisan!” Confusion darted across Keenan’s face. What the hell did Lucas mean? Turning around to face the girl once more, he looked up and down her body. Inky shapes covered her from head to toe, swirling over her curves in intricate patterns. Silver light speared over them, as the full moon above broke through the clouds. Illuminating the flesh of the girl in front of him, revealing her tattoos for what they really were. It was her. The one who could free him from his curse, the one who could bring an end to the voices who threatened to destroy him, and all he had left.
Laughter bubbled dark and malicious from his throat. The irony that such a dainty figure held the key to his salvation. Grabbing her wrist, Keenan yanked her towards him, hands hastily mapping her body, brushing over her breasts with a lack of tenderness. Crushing his mouth to hers, a coppery taste met his tongue as he tangled it with hers. This bitch would pay. When he was done with her, she would be on her knees, begging Lucifer to end her life.

// - R e i s a n
[I have lived one thousand lies.]

Blundering his way through the mass of dancing bodies, Reisan casually made his way back to the small VIP platform where he and his brothers had just spoken to Lucifer. Growling as a whore ran her hands over his body, the boy turned to her, fire licking dangerously just below his skin and smouldering in his eyes with a dangerous glow. Any mortal with half a brain would have felt the urge to flee, to get away from him, but the girl before him was drunk, pissed off her face, and high. The disgusting scent of weed laced her body, breath reeking of alcohol, most probably vodka.
“Get your fucking hands off me, whore.” Reisan projected his voice towards her, adding all the hate and anger he could to the sound. Blinking up at him, she jumped away, reacting as though she had been zapped. A sadistic smile creased his lips as he smirked at her, before resuming his attempt to get to the lounge. Whisking a glass of vodka from the tray of the same topless waiter as before, Reisan lifted the glass to his lips, taking a mouthful.
The clear liquid slid down his throat with a familiar burn, igniting his stomach with heat. Placing the glass on the small glass table before him, Reisan realized the one he smashed his fist through earlier had been replaced. Flexing the hand which had been injured, Reisan felt no pain. Glancing down at it, jagged scars replaced the open cuts from before, the brothers all healed with an unnatural quickness. But Reisan was the only one who retained his scars, the only others which adorned his bothers bodies were the deep gouges on their backs from where their wings were ripped out, and from where they had been cut by holy blades.
Brushing the remaining flakes of dried blood from his skin, the boy looked up as his older brother yelled his name. Throwing his gaze from his hand to the face of his brother, Lucas shouted at him, “Reisan. Keenan has found the girl. She's outside; take her down to the gym. Keep him from trying to do anything stupid with her. I'll get some drugs to knock her out for a while. Go!”
Confusion, shock and a few other unknown feelings registered at the words. “You had better not be fucking with me Lucas!” Launching out of his chair, Reisan grabbed the glass of vodka. Condensation perspiring to form watery droplets on the outside of the glass, coating his hand with a soothing coolness. Quickly downing the remainder of the clear liquid, Reisan leapt from the VIP platform to land softly on the balls of his feet. One of his hands drifted to the hilt of Everans, the holy sword warmed in his grasp, urging him to unsheathe her, urging him to spill blood on her gleaming surface.
Reisan snarled warning to people, urging them to move out of the way, those who did not listen to him were thrown aside. Racing through the door Lucas had come from, Reisan unsheathed Everans, preparing to be met with battle. The blade balanced elegantly within his grasp, glinting wickedly in the silver moonlight. Onyx eyes detected the locked forms of Keenan and the girl. Growling, Reisan strode over to the pair, grabbing his younger brother by the shoulder, hurtling him away from the girl before he got his pants down.
“Fucking hell Keenan! Do you have to fuck everything with tits that walks!?” Reisan had no real problem with his younger brother. He liked him a hell of a lot more than Lucas. Over the past thousands of years, Reisan could always count on Keenan’s blade in battle. They had fought side-by-side in nearly every war, unstoppable when their two elements were combined. Reisan felt the fire element within him. Extending his hand, palm towards the ground, he earthed out, draining the overload of fire, watching it melt a small portion of the asphalt near his feet.
Shards of amber and shades of red flecked in his eyes, a gold rim formed around his pupil, screaming a signal to those around him to watch out or they’d get burnt. Reisan felt feral. Being so close to his brothers for an extended period of time always did this. His orbs flickered to that of the small female form, leaning back against the filthy wall. Striding towards her, Reisan extended his hand to lock around her wrist. “You’re coming with me, Cursed One.” Snarling the words towards her, the boy couldn’t help but feel the fragility of her wrist, the delicate feminie skin, tanned and flecked with a spattering of freckles. It would be so easy to snap her wrist, to kill her in that moment, but she meant too much, she was the key to their curse.
Not waiting nor caring for her protests, Reisan dragged her behind him, fury radiating out of his pores. Keenan slunk off into the shadows, probably in search of another woman to drown his pity in. Leading her through the labyrinth of corridors and doors, the boy led her into the gym beneath the club. They were deep underground now, the only sources of light radiated from the bright artificial lights, attached to the ceiling. Gym equipment of various uses stood in different parts of the room. Grabbing a conveniently placed coil of chains, Reisan towed the girl behind him, leading her onto the large padded floor space the brothers used to practice fighting on. Reisan sneered at his reflection in the floor to ceiling, wall length mirror which adorned the north facing wall. It was designed to allow those using the area to see themselves, how their position was, to correct it. Although, Reisan already knew he needed no correction in any element of fighting.
The adjoining west facing wall was lined with a collection of weapons, all standing ready to be used. Over the thousands of years, the brothers had quite a collection of weapons; they had everything from executioners’ axes to small ninja blades. A decent sized support column stood at the start of the large platform. Looking over his shoulder at the girl, Reisan noticed that all she wore was a skimpy bikini. Sighing, he unbuckled Everans, before he drew off his shirt, handing it to her. It would be large on her; his muscular frame filled the shirt, making it emphasize the shape and definition of his muscles; but for the moment it would do.
Rolling his shoulders, Reisan hoped she could see his scars, hoped she squirmed. A series of large scars adorned his back, but the two angled diagonally inwards, running from his kidney to his shoulder blade were the constant reminders of what he had lost. Turning to face the girl, he noticed she still held his shirt in her hands. “Put it on, before you catch your death.” Chuckling to himself, Reisan replayed his words, she was going to die. And he would make sure of it.
The boy waited until she had put on his shirt, as he predicted, it hung loosely over her frame, falling to mid-thigh, the sleeves, which he usually wore rolled up, hung past her fingertips. Walking around behind her, Reisan grabbed both her wrists, cuffing them together with a medieval set of handcuffs he found amongst a pile of discarded weapons. Tightening them as much as he could around her slim wrists, making sure she could not slip free. The heavy iron, although aged, was still as strong as the day it had been made, holy runes etched into the sides made it useful to hold demons and mythical creatures of any sort.
Once the boy had made sure she could not escape the cuffs, he chained her to the support column. Hatred glared towards him from the depths of her smoky violet orbs. Turning his back on her, Reisan bent to pick up Everans, unsheathing her before leaning the sheath against the mirror. Breathing deeply, he concentrated. Calling on his inner peace, Reisan felt the familiar heat of fire lick through him, blazing in his orbs, now completely red, flames dancing in his iris. Fire licked its way along Everans’ blade, singing in delight as he whirled around, practicing his sword work, cutting down hoards of invisible enemies.
After about an hour or so, Reisan felt he had expelled enough of his element to keep from overloading. Sweat filmed his body, glinting in the soft light created by the flames still dancing along his blades edge. Murmuring his thanks, Reisan reached for the sheath he leaned against the mirror earlier. The soft leather, familiar and worn with centuries of age accepted Everans with pleasure. A sharp sting resounded through Reisan’s hand, making him curse. A large line of blood soon formed across his palm. “Fucking shit. Everans don’t be a bitch.”
Snarling at the weapon, Reisan heard chains rattle. Whirling around, the boy watched as the girl he had just chained to the column, strained against it. When her orbs drifted up to lock with his, Reisan noticed her canines had elongated into fangs. He couldn’t help but laugh when she snapped at him, proving that she was vampire. Holding her gaze, Reisan squeezed his palm, allowing crimson drops to spatter heavily against the blue mat beneath his feet. Holy blades always took longer to heal, so Reisan would have to put up with the pain.
Striding towards the girl, Reisan lowered his voice, allowing fire to dance in his orbs, “Those little teeth don’t scare the big bad wolf, gorgeous.” Allowing himself to take her in, the boy finally realized something. //Damn she was pretty//. The swirling of her intricate thorn and rose tattoo amazed him. It seemed too beautful, too unnatural to have been penned. So how did she get it? Eyes trailing up her body, following her tattoo, Reisan's eyes came to rest on the ink at her breast. Lips curving in a seductive smile, Reisan had never met a vampire this young before.

Slayer's darling characters~

// Keenan Levethian Azurai...

TO BE UPDATED
Age:
Birthdate:
Occupation:
Sexual Orientation:
Species:
Hobbies:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Clothing:
Relevant History:

Physical Description:

Height:
Eye Colour:
Skin Colour:
Hair Colour:
Notable Scars/Injuries:
General Physical Ability:
Optimist/Pessimist:
Introvert/Extrovert:
General Intelligence:
General Attitude Towards Friends:
General Attitude towards strangers:
Mental Toughness:

Slayer's darling characters~

// Reisan James Azurai...

Age: 615
Birthdate: 13th March
Occupation: Assassin, fallen angel and badass soldier.
Sexual Orientation: Straight.
Species: Fallen angel
Hometown: Unknown.
Hobbies: Killing, hunting, spilling blood, luring women.
Likes: killing, blood, fighting, running, working out, riding horses, heavy metal, hunting, swords, chainmail, green, burning things, reading, writing poetry, pain, sinister thoughts, money, fighting
Dislikes: Losing, kindness, not understanding, life, the human world, feeling emotion, tears
Clothing: Wears dark clothing, often black. He likes making people squirm, so he is often seen without a shirt, showing off his horrific scars.. Always carries an assortment of weapons all over his body.
Weapon(s) of Choice: Swords and fists. He is very gifted with using a sword and has fought in many battles. He is extensively trained to use magic and knows how to use poisons. Many of his shorter knives are coated in a poison of sorts. The toxicity of the poison ranges from those which kill in seconds, those which take longer to kill you and are very painful, to those used to knock people out.
Relevant History: Reisan and his two brothers were once commanders of the army of angels in heaven. They were the closest three to god as well as Lucifer, Gabriel and Raziel. Reisan, Keenan, Lucifer, Gabriel and Raziel were the archangels. Dealers of justice, correctors of all wrong and in charge of keeping the peace. In the time of the great upheaval, Lucifer was thrown out and cursed to become the opposite force to balance out heaven, During which time Reisan and his two brothers sided with Lucifer, agreeing with his ideas and in doing so, secured their fate in being cast out of heaven. This was a great blow to the three, especially Reisan as he was closes to God. Raziel and Gabriel were given the task or ripping out the wings of the three brothers, before beating them. Raziel and Gabriel trusted in God that what they were doing was right even as it felt so wrong. Reisan and his two brothers

Resian and his brothers could be fallens who were cast out for siding with Lucifer. But he won't let them into hell. SO. They have to find one of pure blood and part of the balance. One that represents both light and dark so she may be sacrificed for Lucifer to finally start the final war with God and the Angels. He bargins with the brothers and agrees to let them command the armies in the final war and gain their place beside him as his fallen sons of darkness and evil beings, but they must find and bring the girl to him.

Physical Description:

Height: 6ft 5'
Eye Colour: Onyx Black. Turn red when he is fucking pissed off, and fade when he is feeling desire or pleasure.
Skin Colour: Tanned.
Hair Colour: Dirty blonde.
Notable Scars/Injuries: Many, all across his chest, back and arms. He has two scars that run in a diagonal towards each other, these scars cause people to be wary of him. They believe him to be cursed.
General Physical Ability: Extremely fit and muscled.
Optimist/Pessimist: Optimist.
Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert.
General Intelligence: Very smart.
General Attitude Towards Friends: Does not have friends. Tends to distance himself. He has never felt love or kindness. He never smiles in happiness or laughs.
General Attitude towards strangers: Extremely cold, rude, if you piss him off you'll end up with a sword in your gut. He has a short fuse and an uncontrollable temper.
Mental Toughness: Strong

The Fall, the Hit, the Break (Slayer&Never).

// - R e i s a n
[I have lived one thousand lies.]

The hair on the back of Reisan’s neck raised as a cold feeling passed through the room. Only one thing, or rather person, had that effect on him. An ominous voice projected from his right, “Hello brothers.” The voice brought memories. Ones he would rather forget. And scars he had to live with. Running a hand under his shirt, Reisan felt for the deep gouges where his black and silver wings had once resided. No-one bar fallens and other mythical creatures could see them. Shifting his onyx gaze to the form sauntering over to the group from his right. Reisan felt fire lick through him; onyx orbs gathered a heated rim, amber flame rippling in their depths as he looked at the form.
“Hello Lucas. And yes. I still have this fucking sword. And if you’re not careful she’ll see your fucking head roll. Do not forget, brother,” Reisan sneered at the only thing that related them, blood. “Everans is mine. She helped me win every battle I have fought in, even the ones with you. So fucking shut up before I gift her with the one blood she so desperately desires.” Mustering the coldest tone he could, Reisan felt an ashy texture coat his mouth. Clearing his throat, the texture dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. Meeting the firm grasp of his brother Reisan fluidly resumed his position, watching with a steel gaze as Lucas picked on Keenan. “Leave him be brother. And yes, Lucifer, state your reason for calling us together. You know what happens when we stay together for too long. I’m sure historians would love to find out the real reason for both world wars, among other wars over the past two thousand years.” To make his point, Reisan clicked his middle finger and thumb, causing a small flame to ignite and dance just above the tips.
“Ahh yes. The reason you ask.” A voice sinister, stroked their ears with all the delicacy of thick smoke. Taking a sip of his vodka, the ice clinked musically against the sides of the crystal glass, swirling in the clear liquid. All eyes turned to Lucifer, before becoming restless as he tested their patience by making them wait. “Reisan, keep your hand off what sword. Keenan, keep your hands off that bloody whores tits. Lucas, stop baiting your brother. I could have just as easily done this myself. But I am showing you respect by asking this of you, now listen to me.” Lucifer kept his tone even, and yet malice and power seeped out, spearing through the room. Unease danced along Reisan’s spine.
“Lucifer. This is not the place. State your business.” Reisan kept his voice low, calming the Dark Prince. Lucas glared at Reisan, he always thought himself the more powerful brother, the eldest and therefore the most superior. None of that was true. Sure, Lucas was older. But only by three years. God had gifted Reisan with powers his brothers knew nothing about, he was nearly as powerful as the being in front of him; who was the embodiment of darkness Flexing his wrists, the angel looked towards Lucifer expectantly, shifting his hand away from the jewelled hilt of Everans.
Swirling the remaining drops of watery vodka around in his glass, Lucifer looked at the three brothers in turn. “What if I told you I knew of a way to lift your curses.” The three brothers gawked at Lucifer. They had spent the past thousand years searching through every known scroll and biblical text written by everyone from prophets to ancient kings. Their searches had turned up nothing. The scrolls held no knowledge they had not already come across. But then again, Lucifer was the Devil. He had more connections than the brothers ever would have. Its amazing what people will do in exchange for their souls.
“Lucifer. There is no way. We’ve looked. For a fucking thousand years and yet we have found nothing!” Slamming his fist down on the small glass table before the group, shards glided into Reisan’s skin. Deep into his hand. Blood oozed thick and dark from the wounds, although his blood was still red, the poor lighting cast the liquid a disgusting grease black. Snarling at his hand, Reisan heard laughter from the other three men as he picked out the shards.
“Young Reisan, I am the Devil! Prince of Darkness! You think I have no way to get this information?” Eerie laughter cut through the night. “This information I chanced across also foretells of how to start the final war with heaven. How to win against the God who cast you out. If you side with me, I will call you brothers. You can lead the armies into battle against your so called ‘Father’. And in return, you will be set free from your curses.” A barely clad woman waltzed over to them with champagne flutes on a tray, balanced precariously at her shoulder. The top half of her was naked, large breasts bulged out, towards their sight. Pretty obvious they were implants. The only thing on her was a sparkly thong, which didn’t do a good job at concealing anything, and a large diamond pendant that hung from her neck on a simple black cord. The bubbling liquid was slightly blue, clearly laced with a heavy dash of Arcanzite. Reisan sneered. Of course Lucifer would do this. “I swear Lucifer, you had better hold yourself to this. Tell us what we need to do. No fucking lies.”
Grinning wickedly, Lucifer slipped come cash into the whores’ thong, giving her ass a small slap, before taking his flute. “It is an extremely old prophecy which requires the sacrifice of one of the Balance. One who represents both light and dark. She must be sacrificed on a Blessed Altar on cursed ground. I have not finished deciphering it yet. I will send message when I have. Until then, look out for girls with thorn tattoos from head to toe. They are unnatural tattoos. You’ll know when you find her.”
A dainty, tanned hand with manicured, fake nails handed him a flute. Lucas was in conversation with Lucifer, Keenan was one step away from fucking a whore, and Reisan, well. He just sat there. The world went by, babies were born, people died. And yet he never aged. He stood still. And watched as the world around him moved on.

// - K e e n a n
[Rip it out, Tear it down]

The whore in front of Keenan ran delicate hands over his body. Whispered praises and words to him. The world around him was one of her. Her large breasts, her small thong which barely covered her, disappearing between her rounded ass cheeks. The Arcanzite in his system swirled the world before his blue orbs, creating distorted shapes and psychedelic colours. His erection grew impossibly large. Thank God, Lucifer and his brothers were gone. The pain of his psychic powers needed release. And be that in the act of madly fucking the brains out of the pretty woman in front of him, so be it. Kissing her roughly, they fell back against the bed which stood at the centre of the room. God he hated this. Fucking hell. Why did God have to ‘gift’ him with this ability. What the fuck did it mean!? Tearing off his clothes, he bent the whore over the end of the bed and thrust into her. This. This was the only heaven left for him.
Keenan had long accepted the fact he would never go back to the real Heaven. The moans of the woman he was madly thrusting into broke through his thought. He had not realized she had climaxed, her orgasm rippling through him, causing him to ride her harder. The voices in his head stopped as he reached his own orgasm, releasing deep into the woman before him. His sperm would not cause her to fall pregnant, it only effected virgins, and this piece of quivering flesh beneath him was sure as hell no fucking virgin. Sliding out from the woman beneath him was a pleasure in itself. For him, there was no sensuality in this act. There was only a need.
After showering, and adorning some new clothes, black and designer, form fitting and new season. Keenan looked as though he had stepped off the cover of a magazine. The whore still lay naked on the bed, as he had left her. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a few crisp, Hundred dollar bills throwing them on the bed beside her. Grabbing her knee, Keenan roused her from sleep. “Whats your name.” He asked in a compelling tone.
Mumbling with tiredness, and obvious soreness the name Dea slurred from her lips. Grasping her head, he locked eyes with her. Wiping her memories of the moments which took place a few minutes ago, Keenan replaced them with ones of another man.
Crisp, salt air teased at his nose, as Keenan stepped outside. The alleyway near the ocean seemed deserted. But something had his attention. Something was down there. The moon broke out from behind a choke of clouds, illuminating the dank passage. The silhouette of a woman projected into his view. She was doing something. To. To a man. Curiosity flashed through Keenan’s mind as he stalked towards her. Upon arriving where he thought he had seen a woman, the only thing Keenan found was a hobo, sleeping askew on the ground before him. Nudging the dirty man with his foot, the Hobo’s head rolled to a side. Two cuts deep into his neck about an inch apart came into his view. The man was dead And the cuts looked like… like fang marks.

Slayer's darling characters~

// Sven Njord Siguard…

Age: 19
Birthdate: 18th June
Occupation: Pirate, Basterd Viking Prince, Pickpocket.
Sexual Orientation: Straight.
Hometown: Harkness.
Hobbies: Running away
Likes: Rum, sleeping, eating, running, sunshine, clear skies, salt, sea, corsets, tightly clothed women, black hair, blue eyes, tattoos, the ocean, horses, sand, women, nightmares.
Dislikes: his father, memories, crying, scars, people, emotion, smoke, rats, thieves, wearing a lot of clothing..
Clothing: Is usually shirtless wearing only low slung loose trousers. If he has a shirt on, it is a loose white one that is often not buttoned up.
Weapon(s) of Choice: Fists, swords, bow and arrow. He has been taught with basically every known weapon. He can hold his own against anyone regardless of weapon.
Relevant History: Sven is the son of the high Viking Lord, Jarl Siguard. His mother was a servant girl, who worked in Jarl Siguard’s home. One night, Jarl Siguard got very drunk, his wife was away visiting her sick sister, he forced

Physical Description:

Height: 6ft 3’
Eye Colour: Brown.
Skin Colour Very tanned from sun exposure.
Hair Colour Chocolate Brown with natural highlights of blonde and red.
Notable Scars/Injuries: He is heavily scarred. Many are wounds from battle or by being injured by others, but some are self-inflicted.
General Physical Ability: Very fit, always does push ups etc, every morning.
Optimist/Pessimist: Optimist.
Introvert/Extrovert: Neither. He stands in the middle of everything. He cares and at the same time, does not. He does not care if he gets hurt.
General Intelligence: Very smart, but does not let on.
General Attitude Towards Friend: Good natured, Friendly, Trusting, Up for a laugh, Good
General Attitude towards strangers: Does not trust easily. Often cold to start with, but as he gets to know you, he opens up more. Once you are on his bad side, you had better watch out.
Mental Toughness: Strong

Slayer's darling characters~

//Pete...

Age: 142
Birthdate: 6/9/1669
Occupation: Pirate, Plank Walker, Fisherman, Drunk, Mutinous Bastard.
Sexual Orientation: He will try anything once.
Hometown: Glacier Falls.
Hobbies: Sleeping, drinking, fishing, having sex, plaiting his beard/nipple/back/crack hair, being cool.
Likes: Sexy women, hookers, virgins, corsets, skanky boots, fish, rum, whiskey, having his nipples licked, body hair, oceans, ships, fires, tall tales, tattoos, facial hair, Vikings, singing.
Dislikes: baths, being sober, working, getting wet, shaving his facial hair, beer, spewing, sharks, peg legs, sexy women who are married, people picking on his height, seagulls, wives, getting robbed, walking the plank, the English.
Clothing: Is usually shirtless, barefoot and only wearing shorts, he is proud to show off his body/facial hair and tattoos.
Weapon(s) of Choice: Fists, swords and axes.
Relevant History: Pete is an old style pirate. Back in the day he was captain of his own ship. That is, until the English Imperial Fleet caught up with him for public drunkenness, sleeping with the kings wife, mistreating whores and urinating on the English Flag. After spending 2 days in jail he planned a mass breakout with all the inmates. After escaping, he fled to Cuba where he was a major drug lord by the name of Senior Peterman, shipping Opium from China. This was short lived as the English caught up with him and hauled back to his English jail cell. After escaping for the second time, (this time because his inmate tried to get “up close and personal” with poor Pete) he joined a ship crew and set out back to sea. After pissing off the entire crew he was made to walk the plank. Luckily, he managed to swim to a deserted island where he became best friends with a palm tree. After 9 years, 6 months, 3 days, 7 hours 49 minutes and 2 seconds, he was finally picked up by another Pirate ship. He became a deck hand and slowly worked his way up to Captain as he influenced the crew into mutiny against the then Captain. After making him walk the plank, Pete finally had everything he wanted. 3 days later, he was made to walk the plank as the crew didn’t like him very much. This time, he was picked up by the English and hauled back to jail….for a 3rd time. After being branded a pirate and put on public display for people to throw rotten vegetables at him, he managed to escape by biting off a guards finger. And to this day, he has been on the run. Too bad for him, the guard he bit the finger off is now Commander of the entire English Imperial Fleet. Poor Pete. He enjoys company of whores and is a regular at Madam Lurve’s Sex Box on Proz Street. He has his many tats to disguise himself so the English won’t recognise him. He is often one for a tall tale. Best seen when he is drunk.

Physical Description:

Height: 4ft 9’ and 3/8ths
Eye Colour: Brown.
Skin Colour: pale and covered in tats and hair.
Facial/Body/Head Hair Colour: Snow white
Notable Scars/Injuries: many scars. Mostly hidden by his body and facial hair. Although, he does have nasty visible whip scarring from when he was in jail.
General Physical Ability: Very fat.
Optimist/Pessimist: Pessimist.
Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert.
General Intelligence: Shit for brains.
General Attitude Towards Friends: Good natured, although he can be sour. Is always there for a laugh.
General Attitude towards strangers: Rude and obnoxious. Although, if you catch him drink, he is always able to tell you the best whores and places to drink. Often fills strangers with tall tales.
Mental Toughness: Weak