tenebrae16 Member
STATUS: Tene's being productive, happy and cute! 8 yrs ago
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- tenebrae16 12 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
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Tene's being productive, happy and cute!
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8 yrs ago
Needa learn to take my mind off all the bad feelings, all the bad thoughts...Slowly slowly getting better.
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8 yrs ago
I don't feel so good Mr Stark - Mood
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8 yrs ago
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -the voices in my head
8 yrs ago
Yay, it's birthday!....Now whut?
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Finally posted!!! Ah, I always feel bad making people wait no matter how patient you claim to be.
The next morning begins with him having a near heart attack, despite the odds of that ever happening were close to nil. The soft cry of despair coming from far down the hallway reaches his ears like a thunder storm, creating the same effect that a real thunderstorm would produce on a young child or a very paranoid astraphobic adult.
He still can't shake his old habits or skills rather. His body reacts even before his eyes fully open, rolling out of bed to land in a runner's starting position on his knees. The blood's pumping through his veins like horses on a racetrack. The doors feels like a sheet of paper, barely blocking his way as he barrels through it and down the hallway. Robes flapping wildly, hair completely disheveled and a deep purple hue beginning to creep up onto his skin, he looked like a madman racing down the hallways. Thank the moon that very little were awake at this hour, most of them reluctant to leave their warm beds after a late night. They'd rather turn their heads and bury themselves in their woolen blankets than investigate the soft whoosh whispering past their doors in the early morning. And as he counts the many closed doors that he races by and the heartbeats behind those doors, his lungs and heart nearly collapse in on themselves when he reaches the eleventh door and finds it wide open and abysmally empty.
He was going to kill the man. He was going to push his spinal cord so far up his body until it snapped and protruded out from his neck should the man have touched a single hair on Javier's head! He was going to break every single bone and pluck out each feather one by one from his wings if he found a trace of his aura clinging to the boy! He was going to-
"He's gone, Father! He left without saying goodbye!!" A tearful Javier runs up to him just as he skids to a stop by the open door. Burying his head against his midriff and sobbing softly. The bedroom stinks of an angelic presence, but it's only residual and the boy is unscathed, at least physically so. Catching his breath, he kneels down to wrap his arms around the boy and picked him up. It had been a while since he had carried any of the younger ones, most having outgrown the age where they should be coddled. Javier was still as light as a feather though and didn't seem to protest his embarrassment like he usually did. Clinging to him in the midst of his sniffling. Gently, he brushed away those tears and tried to soothe him.
"Now, you know he couldn't stay forever, Puer. He probably had something important to rush to."
"Like what? I wanted him to tell us more stories...and teach me how to be strong like him and you..." The boy sniffled.
Bouncing him gently in his arms, he started on the path back to the boy's room, "Don't you enjoy my stories already? There, there, don't be upset. There's nothing to be crying over. C'mon, go get cleaned up for breakfast and afterwards I'll tell you a new story alright? An extra long one, but only if you stop crying. We don't want the others to see tears pouring from your eyes now do we?"
The boy nodded sorrowfully and for his sake, he blocked Javier's view of the heads and tiny eyes peering out from behind their doors. They disappear once he glances over his shoulder, after gently ushering the boy in.
As much as Javier was sad and as glum and solemn the other children were, even the older ones, for the entirety of the day, after having not seen their guest at the breakfast table and hearing from a red eyed Javier, he couldn't help but feel like a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders.
And as the days rolled by and their memory of their guest slowly faded with the intake of more guests and the daily grind of chores, Xephos felt like things had returned to normality. The urges inside of him having subsided and the corners of his mind having dulled once more; thoughts coming slower, no tactical plans...memories...Just the peaceful concentration on what really mattered.
And the pantry was stocked and the fireplace was given a good cleaning after the stove was fixed though the heavy scent of stew still lingered for many nights after and he considered having a stew made every week or so just for variety's sake. Blessings were given and the rare sermon conducted to those who would listen, stories were told on the regular and he hadn't felt this refreshed in a while.
Perhaps the angel's brief stay had been a blessing in disguise, certainly, it had reminded him to get his priorities back in order. What mattered most were the children, their safety and well being, not whatever sentimental temptations still lingered. Yeah...it hadn't been such a bad thing.
On Monday, he carved out another cross from a slab of wood, whittling down behind his locked door. What it symbolized didn't matter to him, but the fact that he had made it...meant something.
On Tuesday, he replaced the rosary beads around his neck.
On Wednesday, he trimmed down his claws until they couldn't be called claws.
On Thursday, he had to pen down a lengthy order for new mechanical parts to improve the church since they had come into a small profit of trade from a gratuitous trader who had spent the night and left some of his goods behind when he left. It was ways a shame when such people had to leave, the children had just started to take a liking to him as well.
On Friday, he got a chill and wondered if it was possible for his immune system to actually break down.
Saturday and Sunday seemed to go by in a blur.
Monday rolled by and he'd let the children out to play since it looked like a nice day. Their laughter brightened his morning, distracting him partially whilst he cleaned up the podium, whistling a toneless tune. (Oil stains always seemed to appear in the strangest of places.)
And then the laughter stopped momentarily and though that should not have worried him greatly, he suddenly felt anxious. Maybe he'd just check quickly, to make sure that they weren't getting into any trouble.
Their laughter had resumed by the time he stepped out the door and relief flooded into him. How silly he was to worry about nothing. His gaze softened as he watched the children stop and wave to him, eyes bright, wide smiled and all...And then they'd pointed towards the man and he froze for a moment.
Unconsciously, his feet led him in slow strides towards the man and a smile stitched itself onto his face despite the slight reddish tint that colored his eyes.
"Good morning, my son. I did not expect you here on this day." He said softly, stopping inches in front of the man. The sarcasm and questioning tone of his voice only evident to the man, "Perhaps it will do you well, to rest after what I'm sure is your weary travel back here. Children, do not tire our guest, he needs his rest." He wondered if he could sneer and have it go unnoticed, but turned his back before he could consider it and strode slowly back towards the church.
He still can't shake his old habits or skills rather. His body reacts even before his eyes fully open, rolling out of bed to land in a runner's starting position on his knees. The blood's pumping through his veins like horses on a racetrack. The doors feels like a sheet of paper, barely blocking his way as he barrels through it and down the hallway. Robes flapping wildly, hair completely disheveled and a deep purple hue beginning to creep up onto his skin, he looked like a madman racing down the hallways. Thank the moon that very little were awake at this hour, most of them reluctant to leave their warm beds after a late night. They'd rather turn their heads and bury themselves in their woolen blankets than investigate the soft whoosh whispering past their doors in the early morning. And as he counts the many closed doors that he races by and the heartbeats behind those doors, his lungs and heart nearly collapse in on themselves when he reaches the eleventh door and finds it wide open and abysmally empty.
He was going to kill the man. He was going to push his spinal cord so far up his body until it snapped and protruded out from his neck should the man have touched a single hair on Javier's head! He was going to break every single bone and pluck out each feather one by one from his wings if he found a trace of his aura clinging to the boy! He was going to-
"He's gone, Father! He left without saying goodbye!!" A tearful Javier runs up to him just as he skids to a stop by the open door. Burying his head against his midriff and sobbing softly. The bedroom stinks of an angelic presence, but it's only residual and the boy is unscathed, at least physically so. Catching his breath, he kneels down to wrap his arms around the boy and picked him up. It had been a while since he had carried any of the younger ones, most having outgrown the age where they should be coddled. Javier was still as light as a feather though and didn't seem to protest his embarrassment like he usually did. Clinging to him in the midst of his sniffling. Gently, he brushed away those tears and tried to soothe him.
"Now, you know he couldn't stay forever, Puer. He probably had something important to rush to."
"Like what? I wanted him to tell us more stories...and teach me how to be strong like him and you..." The boy sniffled.
Bouncing him gently in his arms, he started on the path back to the boy's room, "Don't you enjoy my stories already? There, there, don't be upset. There's nothing to be crying over. C'mon, go get cleaned up for breakfast and afterwards I'll tell you a new story alright? An extra long one, but only if you stop crying. We don't want the others to see tears pouring from your eyes now do we?"
The boy nodded sorrowfully and for his sake, he blocked Javier's view of the heads and tiny eyes peering out from behind their doors. They disappear once he glances over his shoulder, after gently ushering the boy in.
As much as Javier was sad and as glum and solemn the other children were, even the older ones, for the entirety of the day, after having not seen their guest at the breakfast table and hearing from a red eyed Javier, he couldn't help but feel like a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders.
And as the days rolled by and their memory of their guest slowly faded with the intake of more guests and the daily grind of chores, Xephos felt like things had returned to normality. The urges inside of him having subsided and the corners of his mind having dulled once more; thoughts coming slower, no tactical plans...memories...Just the peaceful concentration on what really mattered.
And the pantry was stocked and the fireplace was given a good cleaning after the stove was fixed though the heavy scent of stew still lingered for many nights after and he considered having a stew made every week or so just for variety's sake. Blessings were given and the rare sermon conducted to those who would listen, stories were told on the regular and he hadn't felt this refreshed in a while.
Perhaps the angel's brief stay had been a blessing in disguise, certainly, it had reminded him to get his priorities back in order. What mattered most were the children, their safety and well being, not whatever sentimental temptations still lingered. Yeah...it hadn't been such a bad thing.
On Monday, he carved out another cross from a slab of wood, whittling down behind his locked door. What it symbolized didn't matter to him, but the fact that he had made it...meant something.
On Tuesday, he replaced the rosary beads around his neck.
On Wednesday, he trimmed down his claws until they couldn't be called claws.
On Thursday, he had to pen down a lengthy order for new mechanical parts to improve the church since they had come into a small profit of trade from a gratuitous trader who had spent the night and left some of his goods behind when he left. It was ways a shame when such people had to leave, the children had just started to take a liking to him as well.
On Friday, he got a chill and wondered if it was possible for his immune system to actually break down.
Saturday and Sunday seemed to go by in a blur.
Monday rolled by and he'd let the children out to play since it looked like a nice day. Their laughter brightened his morning, distracting him partially whilst he cleaned up the podium, whistling a toneless tune. (Oil stains always seemed to appear in the strangest of places.)
And then the laughter stopped momentarily and though that should not have worried him greatly, he suddenly felt anxious. Maybe he'd just check quickly, to make sure that they weren't getting into any trouble.
Their laughter had resumed by the time he stepped out the door and relief flooded into him. How silly he was to worry about nothing. His gaze softened as he watched the children stop and wave to him, eyes bright, wide smiled and all...And then they'd pointed towards the man and he froze for a moment.
Unconsciously, his feet led him in slow strides towards the man and a smile stitched itself onto his face despite the slight reddish tint that colored his eyes.
"Good morning, my son. I did not expect you here on this day." He said softly, stopping inches in front of the man. The sarcasm and questioning tone of his voice only evident to the man, "Perhaps it will do you well, to rest after what I'm sure is your weary travel back here. Children, do not tire our guest, he needs his rest." He wondered if he could sneer and have it go unnoticed, but turned his back before he could consider it and strode slowly back towards the church.
Sorry for the wait, I'm gonna have to take a while to reply, but I will soon. Thank you for your patience.
Hmm, it's going a lil slow isn't it?
"You're late." He replied back just as curtly, meeting her courteous nod with a sharp glare, barely glancing at the white mop of hair that turned towards him, yellowed eyes meeting the man's for a mere moment before he hurriedly turned away and made his way to the observation deck where he expected he would run into Dr Winters again. He wasn't really in the mood to discuss experiences with the entire fiasco he had been out through with the broken spine, but it wasn't like one could exactly avoid talking about such a thing.
Certainly, this self regeneration ability didn't bode all too well for the boy, though it would probably be a crucial focus of all future studies. Already, Luka had to wonder exactly how far such an ability could be pushed if a broken spine could be realigned and mended within minutes. Not to mention...Substance X2Z....He still hadn't received any word back on the samples sent in.
He wasn't sure what to expect of the 'canteen', firstly it was much bigger than he had expected and it largely reminded him of the facility. Was this....He turned around to ask when he the door closed automatically on him and he was left in the cafeteria...not so alone.
The bickering was readily filling up the echo chamber that was the cafeteria, coming from the rather grotesque lone figure sat in the middle of the cafeteria. He chose to stay where he was, giving himself to scrutinize the seemingly intelligent creature that muttered madly to its misshapened self. He wondered if such a being belonged to his own mind as well or if it was as real as the woman who had brought him here. He wasn't all too willing to find out by approaching the beast so he just stood there until his stomach growled softy in response to what edible substances lay beneath the trays.
Certainly, this self regeneration ability didn't bode all too well for the boy, though it would probably be a crucial focus of all future studies. Already, Luka had to wonder exactly how far such an ability could be pushed if a broken spine could be realigned and mended within minutes. Not to mention...Substance X2Z....He still hadn't received any word back on the samples sent in.
He wasn't sure what to expect of the 'canteen', firstly it was much bigger than he had expected and it largely reminded him of the facility. Was this....He turned around to ask when he the door closed automatically on him and he was left in the cafeteria...not so alone.
The bickering was readily filling up the echo chamber that was the cafeteria, coming from the rather grotesque lone figure sat in the middle of the cafeteria. He chose to stay where he was, giving himself to scrutinize the seemingly intelligent creature that muttered madly to its misshapened self. He wondered if such a being belonged to his own mind as well or if it was as real as the woman who had brought him here. He wasn't all too willing to find out by approaching the beast so he just stood there until his stomach growled softy in response to what edible substances lay beneath the trays.
Bleh, typos ><
My brain runs too fast sometimes, it's not smart, just really hyper.
Well, for now, that's what Lai's gonna get, though I picture he either stays on longer and constantly tries to get an answer out of the demon before he leaves (whilst growing attached to the kids and all)
Or
....well I can't picture much else, but I'm sure you can text your creativity and come up with some crazy or tricky idea to have Lai get what he wants. Xeph is being really cold now so I feel like their relationship is somewhat slow.
My brain runs too fast sometimes, it's not smart, just really hyper.
Well, for now, that's what Lai's gonna get, though I picture he either stays on longer and constantly tries to get an answer out of the demon before he leaves (whilst growing attached to the kids and all)
Or
....well I can't picture much else, but I'm sure you can text your creativity and come up with some crazy or tricky idea to have Lai get what he wants. Xeph is being really cold now so I feel like their relationship is somewhat slow.
He sensed him, long before he heard the door creak open and his footsteps echo on the hollow steps leading up to the church, and his aura eating away at the darkness with a feverous light. He opted not to turn around and subject his eyes to such an unendurable sight. Choosing to instead focus on the thin smog breaching the night line of the great walls of the city in the distance, though his ears couldn't help but follow the angel's movements. Tracking his every move as drawing a mental image in his mind as to the other's position in relation to his, planning out possible escape routes, points of attack...etc. Old strategies and battle plans resurfacing in his mind, probably having long been executed and changed without his involvement. That shouldn't have stirred such feelings of frustration and anxiety within him.
The silence didn't help, mainly because he couldn't focus on the silence. The whisper of a passing breeze, the breathing of the man across from him, the grinding of hidden gears within the clock tower right above them, ticking ever continuously and ever agonizingly loud and berating to his ears. When the angel finally broke that chaotic symphony of 'silence', the demon sighed and shifted, keeping his gaze fixed to the cobbled road ahead of him, "There is no such thing as 'free of judgement' and I advise that if you wish to earn the respect or favor of any other of 'my kind' , then you ought to resort to senseless violence and bloodshed instead."
Gathering himself, he turned to fix the demon with a deadpanned stare, "Do not come into the house of Our Father and believe that your white wings give you right to pass judgement and infringe the privacy of another. You are a guest to this house, taken in on the morales and belief of our sanctuary, that does not give you the right to actively mistreat another or take advantage of what kindness has been laid on you this far."
"I will put this simply and I believe it is rather fair in all reason. The war has not touched this place for a good century, I will not allow you to bring it to this place again. As I have left it behind, you will leave behind all notion of whatever rivalry still thrives between my and your kind whilst you are here. You will not antagonize me nor lay a hand to harm those who reside here and as all guests, once your stay is up, you will leave and not speak of what you know of this place to anyone."
He stood, wind swept robes billowing somewhat, and turned back to the church. Feeling mildly better, less...lost in the past at least. He nodded at Laisander, "Do get to bed on time, lights out has long since started." He said with as much indifference as he could muster before crossing the distance of the last few steps leading up to the church and slipping inside. He didn't let himself break his stride, feet carrying him all the way back to his chambers were he was determined to continue on his bed routine without a hitch or hesitation. Hopefully, they little meeting had resolved his problem, but after a few peaceful moments of nonchalant silence, they nagged him once more.
Combat practices, the feel of steel and the shock of the recoil....his fingers itched, was he really pistol whipped now? The thought made him chuckle tiredly as he slipped inbetween the sheets and blew out his candle. Perhaps a restless night's sleep would turn things for the better tomorrow.
The silence didn't help, mainly because he couldn't focus on the silence. The whisper of a passing breeze, the breathing of the man across from him, the grinding of hidden gears within the clock tower right above them, ticking ever continuously and ever agonizingly loud and berating to his ears. When the angel finally broke that chaotic symphony of 'silence', the demon sighed and shifted, keeping his gaze fixed to the cobbled road ahead of him, "There is no such thing as 'free of judgement' and I advise that if you wish to earn the respect or favor of any other of 'my kind' , then you ought to resort to senseless violence and bloodshed instead."
Gathering himself, he turned to fix the demon with a deadpanned stare, "Do not come into the house of Our Father and believe that your white wings give you right to pass judgement and infringe the privacy of another. You are a guest to this house, taken in on the morales and belief of our sanctuary, that does not give you the right to actively mistreat another or take advantage of what kindness has been laid on you this far."
"I will put this simply and I believe it is rather fair in all reason. The war has not touched this place for a good century, I will not allow you to bring it to this place again. As I have left it behind, you will leave behind all notion of whatever rivalry still thrives between my and your kind whilst you are here. You will not antagonize me nor lay a hand to harm those who reside here and as all guests, once your stay is up, you will leave and not speak of what you know of this place to anyone."
He stood, wind swept robes billowing somewhat, and turned back to the church. Feeling mildly better, less...lost in the past at least. He nodded at Laisander, "Do get to bed on time, lights out has long since started." He said with as much indifference as he could muster before crossing the distance of the last few steps leading up to the church and slipping inside. He didn't let himself break his stride, feet carrying him all the way back to his chambers were he was determined to continue on his bed routine without a hitch or hesitation. Hopefully, they little meeting had resolved his problem, but after a few peaceful moments of nonchalant silence, they nagged him once more.
Combat practices, the feel of steel and the shock of the recoil....his fingers itched, was he really pistol whipped now? The thought made him chuckle tiredly as he slipped inbetween the sheets and blew out his candle. Perhaps a restless night's sleep would turn things for the better tomorrow.
Interested in most of the plots, especially 'Red Hood' and 'Harvest-Dragon'. Pm me if you're down for it.
If anyone had asked, it would be hard to deny the little touch of disappointment that brewed inside of him when the angel took the bowl without a single protest, smiling up at him with burning sincerity. And he realized then, that he had actually wanted to goad the angel into reacting negatively to his own cordiality. Before he could better understand exactly what was running through his mind then, he felt slender fingers wrap around his hand. His fingers twitched and he tried to pull away, his gaze growing sharper as his smile tightened. Wondering if the angel had remembered his previous warnings.
There were pews on either side of them, one several steps behind him filled with three men, middle aged: eyesight going. He had played it wrong by drawing attention to his act, but he had the advantage in being near the end of the church where the shadows were rampant, darker if he purposely made it so. By slowly shuffling to the right, he could maneuver himself in such a way that he could block off field of vision from those at the side and partial vision of those at the front, relying on the darkness climbing near the walls to deter them from craning their necks and trying to watch. Most importantly, the children were on the steps, too occupied in their stew. A simple flick of his wrist before the man's grip got too strong, a hand forcing his jaw up and shut, and he could break the man's wrist, at least momentarily, and break loose. He doubted, very much, that the man would continue any further assault in full view of everyone nor would he accuse the most 'holy' man in the church of breaking his hand. Even with the children having taken so quickly to him, Xephos had been here raising them for far longer than anyone else.
Gears grinding, he readied himself. Deciding to wait and see what move the man would try to pull before he countered it. His heart raced, blood rushing through his veins in an instant. He could feel the adrenaline start to set a fire to his skin, the air becoming colder and heavy. Each and every dust particle distracting as they floated past his vision in that slowed moment. It was an unfamiliar old friend, this sort of tactical thinking and how quickly battle ready he was. It was scary to him how quickly he assessed the entire situation and the layout of the room to his advantage in the mere few seconds it took for the man to press his fingers against the cool of his forehead.
Freezing, his gaze slowly slid down to the angel's face, studying his expression as if trying to decipher what sort of game the man was trying to play, trying to suss out some fatal tell from the slightest twitch. The man still looked painfully sincere as he bowed his head in prayer and released his hand.
"May The Lord have mercy on you." The words flew out of his mouth stiffly as he slowly withdrew his hand. Fingers burning, he pressed it against his other sleeve, trying to dispel the tingling that ran down his bones. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, staring down at the man before he hurriedly turned and walked away. His foot steps punctured by the sound of laughter and tiny feet as the children rushed to gather around their new guest.
He knows he shouldn't, but he pauses in his stride and glances back.
The scene ought to be framed in a picture and hung on the wall of some god loving orphanage slash animal home. It hurt his eyes, especially with the un seen glow of the angel's wings: feathers looking ever so delicate and soft and...painfully innocent. He wanted to hide the bold display, conceal it beneath the dirt and concrete of the church floors. He doesn't think he can bear listening to whatever he's saying to the children, so the demon finds himself sitting at the first pew, hands clasped and heads bowed in prayer as more children gravitate towards the man and supper has become an unintentional supper time.
The words don't help him, but they keep his senses distracted along with the sounds of the fire being put out and the cast iron pot being taken to be washed up. Wooden bowls clacking against one another, footsteps across the floor, tired yawns and the sounds of popping joints and stretched muscles. Laughter....They breezed past him, too slow for his liking, ignoring the priest lost in prayer. They distract him just enough for him to peek up from over his clasped hands, eyes darting over their forms with quick scrutiny before he closed his eyes and tried to fall back into the trance of prayer. Every so often taking a quick glance over at the children, reassuring himself that they were safe before he hurriedly averted his gaze.
When the sun light fell completely away from the centre window, he knew it was time to break up the little gathering and herd the children off to bed. He felt the tingling sensation from before run down his hands, strong enough to make him halt his prayer and itch his fingers, at the mere thought of approaching the angel again. It didn't hurt, but it burned...if that made sense. It was like the bite of a fire ant, stinging, but not painful enough to warrant attention if one did not wish to give it. He wanted to give it though, to flick away that foolhardy insect and tear those daring jaws straight from it's head.
When the man sent out just a spark of his energy through the young girl, he felt it rip down his spine, making him jump as the urge boiling deep down inside of him grew and he knew he couldn't stay within the same room anymore. Not anywhere within 30 feet of the man. It perhaps hadn't been as bad as he first made it out to be, but now....it was getting worse.
His muscles felt strained and coiled and he couldn't get them to relax. Blood was pounding in his ears, thumping angrily until it was bashing against his skull, rushing up beneath his skin like it was going to break through the surface, beating down on his lungs and forcing all the air out. He couldn't force himself to focus on anything, but the thought that he had to leave.
Eyes trained forward, he stood and made a silent exit, trusting that one of the older ones would remind the children of their bed times.
Cold, biting air blew against his skin, quenching the fire that had been lapping at his flesh. He let out a breath that was lost in a gust of wind that blew against him. He didn't even care that it completely messed mussed his hair, curls haphazardly sticking out; getting in his eyes.
He didn't care, he really couldn't as he sat on the porch of the church, engulfed by the darkness of the night. What had overtaken him back in the church....he hadn't felt in a rather long time.
There were pews on either side of them, one several steps behind him filled with three men, middle aged: eyesight going. He had played it wrong by drawing attention to his act, but he had the advantage in being near the end of the church where the shadows were rampant, darker if he purposely made it so. By slowly shuffling to the right, he could maneuver himself in such a way that he could block off field of vision from those at the side and partial vision of those at the front, relying on the darkness climbing near the walls to deter them from craning their necks and trying to watch. Most importantly, the children were on the steps, too occupied in their stew. A simple flick of his wrist before the man's grip got too strong, a hand forcing his jaw up and shut, and he could break the man's wrist, at least momentarily, and break loose. He doubted, very much, that the man would continue any further assault in full view of everyone nor would he accuse the most 'holy' man in the church of breaking his hand. Even with the children having taken so quickly to him, Xephos had been here raising them for far longer than anyone else.
Gears grinding, he readied himself. Deciding to wait and see what move the man would try to pull before he countered it. His heart raced, blood rushing through his veins in an instant. He could feel the adrenaline start to set a fire to his skin, the air becoming colder and heavy. Each and every dust particle distracting as they floated past his vision in that slowed moment. It was an unfamiliar old friend, this sort of tactical thinking and how quickly battle ready he was. It was scary to him how quickly he assessed the entire situation and the layout of the room to his advantage in the mere few seconds it took for the man to press his fingers against the cool of his forehead.
Freezing, his gaze slowly slid down to the angel's face, studying his expression as if trying to decipher what sort of game the man was trying to play, trying to suss out some fatal tell from the slightest twitch. The man still looked painfully sincere as he bowed his head in prayer and released his hand.
"May The Lord have mercy on you." The words flew out of his mouth stiffly as he slowly withdrew his hand. Fingers burning, he pressed it against his other sleeve, trying to dispel the tingling that ran down his bones. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, staring down at the man before he hurriedly turned and walked away. His foot steps punctured by the sound of laughter and tiny feet as the children rushed to gather around their new guest.
He knows he shouldn't, but he pauses in his stride and glances back.
The scene ought to be framed in a picture and hung on the wall of some god loving orphanage slash animal home. It hurt his eyes, especially with the un seen glow of the angel's wings: feathers looking ever so delicate and soft and...painfully innocent. He wanted to hide the bold display, conceal it beneath the dirt and concrete of the church floors. He doesn't think he can bear listening to whatever he's saying to the children, so the demon finds himself sitting at the first pew, hands clasped and heads bowed in prayer as more children gravitate towards the man and supper has become an unintentional supper time.
The words don't help him, but they keep his senses distracted along with the sounds of the fire being put out and the cast iron pot being taken to be washed up. Wooden bowls clacking against one another, footsteps across the floor, tired yawns and the sounds of popping joints and stretched muscles. Laughter....They breezed past him, too slow for his liking, ignoring the priest lost in prayer. They distract him just enough for him to peek up from over his clasped hands, eyes darting over their forms with quick scrutiny before he closed his eyes and tried to fall back into the trance of prayer. Every so often taking a quick glance over at the children, reassuring himself that they were safe before he hurriedly averted his gaze.
When the sun light fell completely away from the centre window, he knew it was time to break up the little gathering and herd the children off to bed. He felt the tingling sensation from before run down his hands, strong enough to make him halt his prayer and itch his fingers, at the mere thought of approaching the angel again. It didn't hurt, but it burned...if that made sense. It was like the bite of a fire ant, stinging, but not painful enough to warrant attention if one did not wish to give it. He wanted to give it though, to flick away that foolhardy insect and tear those daring jaws straight from it's head.
When the man sent out just a spark of his energy through the young girl, he felt it rip down his spine, making him jump as the urge boiling deep down inside of him grew and he knew he couldn't stay within the same room anymore. Not anywhere within 30 feet of the man. It perhaps hadn't been as bad as he first made it out to be, but now....it was getting worse.
His muscles felt strained and coiled and he couldn't get them to relax. Blood was pounding in his ears, thumping angrily until it was bashing against his skull, rushing up beneath his skin like it was going to break through the surface, beating down on his lungs and forcing all the air out. He couldn't force himself to focus on anything, but the thought that he had to leave.
Eyes trained forward, he stood and made a silent exit, trusting that one of the older ones would remind the children of their bed times.
Cold, biting air blew against his skin, quenching the fire that had been lapping at his flesh. He let out a breath that was lost in a gust of wind that blew against him. He didn't even care that it completely messed mussed his hair, curls haphazardly sticking out; getting in his eyes.
He didn't care, he really couldn't as he sat on the porch of the church, engulfed by the darkness of the night. What had overtaken him back in the church....he hadn't felt in a rather long time.
Haha, they're going to look like bickering parents infront of the little kiddies if they ever start to fight, I almost want Xeph to break out of his priestly role, but he is refusing to do so.
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