Following her precious wyvern brought her here; with its call the heartless swarmed around her before creating a black hole. She sank in with some resistance not admiring the unknown. Typically she growled a warning at her chosen heartless before they disappeared into the black abyss. The darkness never cleared in that pit; instead a light shinned beneath her. Gravity pulled her down dropping her to stone. Landing on the solid rocky ground, she felt a sense of familiarity as her talons subconsciously scratched at it.
“Where have your brought me?” She asked after feeling the sun flare of dusk since into the sky. The heartless moaned lowly as she looked around for herself.
She was up high with a neat aerial view of a cluttered town. It surely wasn’t Traverse Town; it FELT different to its core, and the world she dwelled even never showed sunlight. In this world, day was ending, and night was ascending. She noticed she was on a tall stony building, and looking about it, its structure didn’t look familiar at all. In some retrospect, she can identify home in the place, but it was foreign all the more.
“A City of Bells, what sort of name is that?” Her arms folded her chest as she chided the wyvern, “So this is what you mean of others worlds, and mine is one of the many. Still I don’t see what purpose you having bringing me here to another human infesting wo-”
Her halt for good reason. With a single turn she saw them dotting across the cathedral she was on; on the patio she was on they rimmed the center and corners.
Night was here, and the bells of Notre Dame rang with the time. Demona was discreet maneuvering about the church to not be spotted by the resident hunchback. For a human, he was a pitiful looking one, and words from the heartless, his life was pitiful as well with a tyrannical figure, who drew them here some years ago. She had snorted at the idea; humans were so picky with their ideals of beauty.
The grotesque of this castle were what was precious to her. She sat with them hunched over like a stalking predator contemplating her previous excitement seeing them only for her heart to ache with rage. They never woke. She assumed they were cursed and hoped to find Goliath amongst them, but didn’t.
It would’ve been bitter sweet if she did find him here. She would’ve been so close, but so far from him. This building, this castle, wasn’t their castle. The prophecy would never break, and still he would be trapped in stone sleep. Instead of shedding tears or roaring with grief, Demona’s eyes flared red as she growled at her frustration with gritted teeth. Her darkness was seeping, and she wasn’t even trying to hold it back.
She inspired heartless to waver from the castle and onto the streets. Staying crouched on the tower, she watched the chaos from above, while her mind traveled elsewhere, the day the humans betrayed and failed her people, Goliath was taken from her, and all she could do was hide and fly into the night with shame.
Evening at the square was still as lively was it was during the day. The city was a bed of activity, hearts full and spirits light. For the people their lives were completed by the towering structure of slate and stone looming a great shadow of judgement over them. Bright lights staved off the darkness in droves, but even still there they lurked. Crowds of gypsy lured visitors and natives alike with their games of revelry and dancing while temptation lurked in the shadows. They worked hard to earn their living, fates cursed by the harsh words of heresy that followed their lives. They did not follow the conventional ideas of conservatism, devot fanaticism and an ideal world of perfection. The gypsy, to them, were a plague to this for their corrupt ways. For them this was their way of life that was not about good or evil, but for those that crept the shadows and consumed the dark haze that drifted over a great numbers Night is the time of devilry and many beasts come out from the shadows to consume those foolish enough to wander too far from their sacred sanctuary. Crowds pushed through, oblivious of the pickpockets that too roamed and picked their victims indiscriminately. They say say in the twilight the land of the Light and Darkness combined into what was known as the Hour of Ghouls.
The beast felt a heavy weight on his body as he staggered from a Corridor of Darkness. It was not the most supplemental of roads. He did not know where he was going, nor where he would end up. Endless roads with bright, glaring exits. Picking one was a wild roll of the dice, at the least. The alley he was spit out of was wet, cold and rife with vermin scurrying along looking for a scraps of food that remained in human garbage. His left palm traced along the stone walls, allowing support for his unsteady form. The bare fingertips traced along the texture of the wall, the sundried brick and smooth limestone shifting under his touch with seamless ease. He still had the bitter taste in his mouth. His body was partially slumped against the wall, like a drunkard wandering the slums; it was as if he had not been a drop sober since dawn. His other arm hung freely at his side, swaying and brushing against his hip. When he came to the end of the alley golden eyes glittered against the bright lanterns that hung from building to building along the gutters and hanging from stall posts. The beast’s eyes danced about the about the multitude of people that scurrie about with their useless existences. It caused the hunger in his belly to stir. So many people, so many chances for darkness.
He took a deep breath and pushed his hand to draw back his wet hair, slicking the ginger locks. Resting his hands on his hips a devious grin etched itself onto his smooth features. “This looks like a perfect hunting ground.” The beast marched into the crowd.
At his side his Feather Charm danced against his hips and the buckles of his belt clacked as his boots ground into the solid, cobblestone streets.So many people, scurriyng in so many directions, many toward the large Sancutary in the distance. He decided to follow the flow of patrons toward the curious building that seemed to house both the Darkness and Light. As he made his way closer to the structure he turned his head up at the monstrous work of architecture. It wa a man-made mountain this! Towers of stone and glass combined to create the marvelous edifice of man’s power that was this Sanctuary. It disgusted the dragon. His lip curled up over his teeth, the soft flesh rubbing against his sharp, humanesque canines. A man bumped into him as he rushed by. The beast’s eyes widened as his strong hand came to snap around the frail, human wrist. The man cried out in pain as the grip nearly snapped his bone twain. The Titan yanked the thinner male from his feet, raising his arm over his head. The dark-skinned man appeared to be one of those desperate Gypsies, but the dragon could never tell these humans apart. They all looked the same.
“Return that which is his…” Now had the beast any other belongings perhaps it would have come by and by as a shock, but he had but one object that fed his draconic obsession and that object was currently curled in his dirty, scraped fingers.
The man fought and struggled, but there was no relenting from the beast of a man’s grip. People began to slow down and whisper. The commotion was starting to draw the attention of those around them. “I don’t got nothing of yours crazy outsider!” The man accused.
The Titan’s brows arched at the words that escaped the Gypsy’s mouth. Yes they were true, he was an outsider, but to blatantly claim that what he held did not belong to the Titan was offensive. The small, bamboo dreamcatcher was obviously his. The feathers represented his brother and himself. It was what anchored the fading spirit to his side. It was his only connection to the only one in these worlds he loved! The man’s amber eyes flashed. From calm, glistening honey to fiery, molten gold in seconds. The Titan’s other hand came to wrap around the collar of the man’s shirt and tightened in a rage. He bore his teeth, the forms shifting into shark-like fangs at the man’s audacity. Gasps poured from onlookers as shouts began to bellow up from their throats. The man screamed and frantically sought to escape. He tossed the charm, which the beast caught. But in doing so the Gypsy was released and left to flee.
This did not leave the Titan in a good place. The shouts grew stronger as people looked to the man, whispering things like “devil” and “Heartless”. The dragon backed up, toes tingling at the conflict stirred by one, desperate human. Maybe he could use this to his advantage…. but something was strange. It was in the pit of his stomach. A warning. The dragon hissed out and would charged toward the crowd. He dropped to all fours and ran through the streets as clouds began to form in the skies. A storm was coming. The beast ran up the Sanctuary steps, but there were several priests standing with holy relics in hand, startled by the man’s charge. So it was that sort of place. He sucked his fangs and looked around. The people behind him grew closer and closer. He could not go inside and risk finding more relics. The Dark Shaman looked up, buttresses calling to him. He jumped up and gripped one of the outcroppings of architecture with his bare hands. He pulled his heavy form up with difficulty as his body was haggard from his last ventures.
He was soon scaling the Sanctuary, body slithering in a serpentine manner as he rushed into the shadows, his body easily vanishing among the shades of his commands. His amber eyes glanced down at the gathering crowd as they shouted and argued over the creature’s presence. The dragon grinned, scoffing softly. This would certainly feed him for a few hours and heal his wounds from his last world. The male looked down, slightly pulling back his torso wrap, revealing the bruises and scald marks on his side. Scoffing the beast would continue to scale to the top of the tower. As the rains began to fall the beast would barely make it to the lip of the upper balconies where the edges were decorated end to end with stone frozen Gargoyles. The male arched his brow and grimaced as he perched on the lip of the balcony, rump hanging off the edge as he stood on all fours, back arched and form completely drenched. He grumbled and shook out his body, tossing water everywhere!
“Little specks, scurrying around…” He pushed to stand and moved to walk along the balcony. “Try if you must… soon it will all return.”
He needed time to heal and riling them up was the perfect way to absorb the energy and hide out from this rain. The brute was completely unaware the possibility of company in his midsts though. He was too compelled to inspect his precious treasure. He sat crouched on the balcony’s banister and brushed his thumb over the smooth bamboo wood that comprised of the dreamcatcher’s body.
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~! | NOTES: The rains call in the clouds, driving the uneasy feeling crawling along the streets.
Her eyes opened slowly to the realization. Was she already cold at heart to not feel the difference and coolness of the atmosphere? She would have to let it be or retreat for cover. Gargoyles traditionally didn’t over indulge in clothing; it wouldn’t be long for her to be wet and sleek. She would’ve rose and stepped down from her perch on the balcony, but someone was here; she can hear them with her long pointed ears.
Her wet fiery hair draped over tiara, while the locks started to curl loosely. Her lips thinned as her eyes narrowed. Discreetly, she stepped down; her wings clipped to be a robe to block the rain. Naturally walking on the balls of her feet, she crept utilizing the shadows to her advantage. What creature scuttled up here? She’d thought she would’ve noticed the sound of a shutting door. Stepping into an alcove, she remained still like a statue.
Before her a weak pawn bubbles in front of her feet. The shadow twitched and spasm like a pained insect before settling on the floor. Their mannerism and dysfunctional movements had always made her nose wrinkled in disgust. They looked lame and broken; it wasn’t a far off opinion. The darkness twisted and tainted the heart into become that pathetic mass. Hearing a snort from Demona, its antenna twitched before hobbling about to track the heart. Melting into the floor, it crawled like a stalker than up the wall for discretion like a spider.
“Odd little abominations and to think that so many can be overthrown by them,” she snorted at the annoyed thought. Apparently only strong wills can siege the heartless and train them, more so command them. Demona bullied the first heartless she encountered with her darkness; the rest just fell in line after that. She utilized the shadows to be distant eyes and ears for disposable tasks. As the Shadow crept on the dragon, it leaned up from its hiding; yellow balled eyes staring.
Heartless lacked fear; they would pounce on the strongest heart just for opportunity. With their lack of mind, sentient, and any personal connections, Demona could care less if it died pursuing her inquiry. There were so many of them after all. Once the heartless was out of mind, Demona slipped around a corner and scaled up the building; she’d always preferred a bird eyes’ view.
陰 Dragon ☯ Shaman 陽 Can you see through the mist!?
The dragon moved to crouch on the narrow banister of stone. Though his legs were strong his body was tired and numb from the pain suffered from his earlier bouts. He was still growing so such strenuous combat was a bit above and beyond his capacity at the moment. Even if he lived, comparatively, over forty and six years of a human, the longevity of his kind relinquished any sense of adulthood he could carry and marked him as nothing more than a newly hatched pup. When he crouched his leather boots creaked, the rain slicking from the covers and down to the soles where it left darkened patches on the ash colored slate used to build the Sanctuary. The dark clouds that choked the city of bells called forth claps of thunder which rattled over the shouts of the citizens in the streets below who demanded there be action against the monsters that roamed the city. Some nights the hordes were much worse than usual, but tonight had seemed relatively peaceful, until the beast had threatened a man below. Amber eyes traced the waves of people as they seemed to ebb and flow against the stone steps of the sanctuary. His arms came to rest over his knees, the fabric of his pants trickling with small droplets of water as he sat beneath the overhang upon a reach of darkness for comfort.
The dragon had no concept of the division of worlds demanded by a decree of non-meddling, but in these worlds the beast, who looked upon it as wicked, sought to cleanse them as they scurried in the Darkness like plague bearing rats. Humans trapped in their cages scorning, fearing and hating one another, fighting for space between each other that simply could not be spared. The man beside him who shares his blood, he looked to with greed and jealousy, forgetting the treasure of having one much like you beside you, sharing life. Having a clan... This was what he fed from. The negative energy that seemed all too common among humans was his primary sustenance. It fueled his power and in turn he fueled their fears. Thinking upon the humans whom he sought to save he could only look to his hand, which was stained horribly with blood and ash. He was not bereft of the corruption that plagued them, in fact being so close to their hearts led him to being a possible statistic. In his hand he still held his brother’s charm and stared down at the sacred object.
It was all that remained of his family. His clan had been broken apart by his kin, beginning at the hands of his father. Though he is still ignorant to the cause and reason of his father’s abandonment, he knew that watching his mother suffer was unbearable without his brother’s aide. They grew and learned to be human and learned of their dragon aspects, but fear had kept them hidden. The fear the humans held was much like the fear these humans festered below with. It was an agonizing feeling born of differences and ignorance. It dragged out many unwanted feelings of which the fire-spitter often tucked away in the depths of what remained of his black, hateful heart. His heart was not full of Darkness, but too despair. The tragedies could have been avoided if humans simply were more capable animals, the higher thinking animals they claimed to be with their grandiose structures and games of war. He could only pray to the Ancestors that what he did was right and his actions would end with their being cleansed. He gripped the charm tightly before setting it back upon his belt, hanging it on his hip.
Pushing to stand he stepped out onto the edge of the buttress and looked up, letting the rain fall onto his face and clothing. He looked down to his torso where the rain water seeped in beneath the wrap he wore around his chest. Stretching his form the male would reach around to his left side where the buckle that kept the uniform in place sat. Undoing the large buckle he would, at the same moment, reach toward the fur of his collar where a small string completed the wrap from his left to right side as the larger buckle completed the right to left strap. He took care to remove the wrap of clothing and lay it over his forearm. He soon peeled his glove from his hand and stepped back into the darkness to seat himself. He needed rest. The burning marks over his chest and the heavy bruising at his side were debilitating, at best. The wounds were sore and tender. Even the slightest movement in the open air caused them to ache. Climbing up the tower did not help in the least. He wanted to nod off. The high perch brought back good memories of the mountains and the rains as well. The smell of the wet stone settled his head.
His eyes slipped closed but something stirred. A flash of yellow zagged about in the darkness. The beast curled his lips over less-than-human fangs, serrated teeth much akin to a shark’s than a man. “Who goes there?!” Though by the disgusting corruption of fleeting darkness it could only be a Heartless.
His senses were dulled by the rains, eyes catching the faint movements in the dark. The Shadowmancer pushed to his feet, back arching like a beast’s. There was something here, but it was so ingrained into the darkness sensing its movements was difficult. Were there more than just Heartless about? His grip around his wet torso wrap tightened and he narrowed his eyes in a feral ferocity: his own golden eyes glowing against the Darkness like a Heartless', his own darkness bubbling out to keep the swarmers at bay.
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~! | NOTES: Corruption has a sense of beginning and an eventual end.
She climbed until she was on another floor. Jumping over the balcony, her wings opened for a single beat to launch her over for a balance and easy landing. The rain dotted her shoulders and arms for a second before the bat-like appendages whipped closed before securing below her collarbone. Calmly she walked to the other side where the stranger resides; she took the time to preen the excess water out of her hair. A flash of lightening flared against the stained glass outlining her silhouette. She only looked at herself for a moment recalling her prideful young days in comparison into the sloppy wet vagabond brewing vengeance from world to world.
With an agitated whip of her tail, she continued on the present matter. She hadn’t decided whether to dispose of him now or hide away to wait out the rain. The latter option made her lip curled; she spent enough of her life evolving to survive through hiding. A gargoyles life was filled with paranoia as their customs and familiarity were altered just for they can see the next night. Rookeries were sacred and their homes; the rookery one was born in was their family forever. The clan raised you, watch you grow, you find a place in it, and you may find your other. With her other clans, they were in disjunction; they never slept in the same spot; their rookeries were dotted all over the place to increase the survival of the overall clan. Many go to sleep with the nightmare that they may not wake-up ever again; that very night could easily be their last.
Waking up became a literal blessing, and Demona was blessed to wake up and survive her world’s descent. Sitting on the balcony of the opposite side, she leaned to listen; her talons dug marks into the stone as her jaws clenched. She was lucky to be awake, and thus far she was the only one. She didn’t want to be for long; she wanted a clan, a thriving one that won’t be bullied to hide by circumstances.
“Who goes there?” A voice called out in a shout. She would’ve brushed it aside and let him cry before calling heartless to scare him off her perch, but he did something. She can smell it, feel it; in response, her eyes flared red as her mind hooked this experience to a memory.
They brought darkness to Wyvern with their war; as they slashed each other apart and smashed people in their sleep, the heartless feasted off the chaos until the world ripped at the seams. Even though the numbers of her clan would’ve diminished, regeneration was futile without a home, and now they were scattered like leaves in the fall.
“You,” with agile grace, she flipped herself over the edge. Her claws scrapped against the stone to slow her down before she dropped before him. As quick as she landed, she was onto him with a burst from her legs. Claws gripped him by the neck to pin him to a wall.
Who goes there, he asked, “the last face you will ever see human.”
How many humans’ eyes glowed like that, “or are you an abomination from the dark realm?”
陰 Dragon ☯ Shaman 陽 Can you see through the mist!?
By the very nature of his motions the male had seemed something far from human. The way his eyes gave off an amber glow, like a smith's burning forge, was unnatural. His pupils were narrower and gave off a subtle indication that they were capable of focusing in ways a human's could not. In the darkness his eyes needn't take such a monstrous focus, so drew the suspicion from him as he wandered a crowd as the one gathering below. If he did not grow so agitated by the theft of his only belonging he could have perhaps further observed the humans that existed in this world.
But now he stood by the darkness. Though it was part of his nature, the creatures that crawled among it had s hunger which could never be satisfied. The Light in his heart was not substantial enough to support their overbearing needs, or perhaps instincts, to become whole again. For the way they moved and they way they acted were comparable to mindless animals, incapable of intelligent thought. He, at least, moved with considered purpose. That was why when a secondary creature lunged from the darkness, his already defensive form, reacted. His legs locked and braced against the the blur of blue that charged him. Was it some sort of bird-- or dragon? No. The soles of his boots gripped the ground in an attempt to keep himself from being slid back into a compromising position. Whatever this creature was it was hostile and exuded a fine mist of darkness. Just being near her began to stitch his injuries back together visibly.
He could feel her digits Around the thick, flexing flesh of his neck. The male was quite the specimen. Though he may not stand as attractive to certain individuals, none Could deny the physical ferocity his mature, human body appeared to have. His brows furrowed as his lips pulled back over what were now very inhuman teeth. They had been human teeth, but shifted to intimidate the woman. At least that was obvious. He had never seen a creature quite like her before. She was no Heartless yet she nested among them. For a dragon his perch was sacred. It was from where he watched his territory and slept, sometimes ate. It was where the young were raised and treasure hidden. To share it with such Parasites was beyond foul.
A soft, animalistic growl curled from his raised lips. "Who does she think she is!?" His arm swung up in an attempt to sucker punch the wyvern against the side of her head.
He specifically aimed for her ear because the ringing a forcible stile like that could produce was painful. In either case he would have to be frees. She would wither instinctively hold her pained head or move to evade the brutish strike. He would push his shoulders back against the wall and push forward, sliding passed the twitching Heartless. As he did so he would spin to about face and keep the winged beast in view. He was crouched slightly, hands held out as of threatening with invisible claws.
"A human? How amusing. Perhaps his disguise is better than originally believed." He spat at her comment. "Abomination? He is a pride member of the Jiao-long Clan. A great guardian," Though aspirations dashed by a dirty hand played by fate. "Dark Realm? Where is this place you speak of?" There was a realm. Perhaps, a world of Darkness?
He never would have imagined such a thing. He thought the Heartless like parasites: mushrooms that grew into existence on the rotting corpse of another, still living, being scorned by the Dark.
"Just who, or what is she? She questions him, yet she is the one surrounded by these monsters and remains untouched." Though he too had not been attacked by them...
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~!| NOTES: In a mixed up, crazy world, sometimes it's the weirdos who are on the right path.
What an old whelp. He didn’t look like the people of this town let alone dress like one. Her nose twitched, but it didn’t help distinguishing him. He wasn’t of her people, clearly, but he was an outsider to the rest in this City of Stone. A beefy boy he was. How long since it’s been when her claws tore through flesh and muscles like a clean blade on bread. It’s been years since she had physically touched another person so close or in this manner; the warmth in his neck although wet from the rain flushed through her as she felt his pulse. She can simply bask in that drumming, especially when it quickens when one squeezed the life out of it.
Instead of falling in line, he was stubborn, and she snorted at aggression display, such an animal. He looked like a baby now that she was up-close, a tainted little devil. She chuckled at the barked question; her red lips twisted at the irony, “I am that I am: the Demon of Ni-
Her narcissism was cut off as a fist collided against her skull dragging the word out with an alarm. Instinctively, her claws dug into first puncturing his neck before releasing the grip with a tear. She whirled away with dense club heavy tail whipping behind her. When she stood up straight, she could feel a sting in her ear, but it wasn’t major as the large earring dangled violently before stilling. Her eyes flared at him; he would taste his own blood. Unfortunately she wasn’t patient to allow such lowly beast strike her.
Standing poised on the ball of her feet, she kept her wing ajar. He wondered what she was. She would love to give him a simple demonstration of gargoyle. “You’re not of this world. And what hideous creature has to mask behind and even more hideous spineless lowlifes. There’s not much pride in hiding or disguise.”
“You’re not too knowledgeable then if you don’t know of it; unless you had other means to get here, and yet you’re dripping in darkness.”
Her arms folded over her chest; her wings clipped to block the rain from soaking her body. Her hair was a dripping mess as water trickled down her sharp cheek bones. Clearly he never saw a gargoyle before, while this very building was dotted from them. Did he arrived earlier with this pathetic human face? Demona never hid her true face; one can say she simply loved herself and her heritage too much; she spent years, perhaps even a century defending its name, pride, honor, and rights for longevity.
“My bark marvels my bite; they know the price if they do. I will not sully the Gargoyle name falling to these lowly fiends. They are no better than what created them,” as far as she’s concerned, they were a man-made problem. She had never seen one on her world until the humans had their war, which she stood back from to watch their hatred kill them all off.
Last Edit: Sept 10, 2014 20:35:28 GMT -5 by demona
陰 Dragon ☯ Shaman 陽 Can you see through the mist!?
He watched as the female was cut into by his fist's heavy blow, her body lurching back violently due to his sudden actions. Her sharp words were thrust away by his brutish reaction to such aggressive contact. He felt it a challenge to his presence, one he would quickly take to in his wounded and fires up state. His body still burned with the weight of his injuries and his flesh sang with the sensation of the human's anger which floated up toward the tower of bells. Wounds slowly stitched up and bruises began to clear. He was like a wild animal, one which had been cornered. Acting accordingly he would bare his teeth, though they seemed flat and useless. Hands were held out as if his blunt, human nails served as a threat to a creature such as her. His questions were burned from the confusion that plagued his person. Where was he? When did he get here? But, perhaps the most important question of all, stood clear: why was he here? He knew his goal and he traveled with expectations.
This was not one.
This was not where he remembered being. Last and it only left him with more questions than answers. Verbalizing them was the fastest way to have his realities sorted. But his questions only brought foul accusations from the beastly woman. Her callous tone matched the tough claws that tipped her toes and fingers. Her fangs looked only good for rending flesh. There was nothing about this woman that could be considered gentle, or ladylike by the standards of man. Perhaps she was some sort of vagrant that took pleasure in looming over her prey, waiting for opportunity. Luckily his persuasions did not digress too deeply into the realm of man. He was a beast of power and fed from the unholy attributes of man. It was obvious he was not of this world, and oft cared to meddle in the hapless, circular lives of the pathetic humans he so pitied. Pity is what he looked down on them with. Drooling infants unable to care for themselves: alway needing others to show them the path onto righteousness. Her underhanded berating of his true flesh did not burn him as it should.
The dragon carried no pride toward his kind, and struggled to hold face for what remained of his clan. They were derelict, unable to find their place upon a pedestal worthy of the ancestors, all due to the actions of one and one alone. The burden of such weighed on his back. The anger of betrayal whispered into his ear by the shadow of his brother. Perhaps it could be seen by others: the heavy shadow that forced the beast’s shoulders to sag superficially. It was the burden of having a family and having a clan and being the only one left to carry their names into the annals of history. He was the only responsible one left. His mind swirled with the madness of guilt and need to retrain the humans he was born to serve and protect. In all honestly none had ever asked him why he had such a face. It was not difficult to see on the outside he was not quite human. Was he perhaps a shadow that wore a human’s skin? But he was nothing like his duel opponent, nor a quiver near one like the shadow girls. Neither a Heartless nor a Nobody, he was a master, a master of the Darkness. He growled as the weight became a bit too much. He pulled his hand over his eye, snarls tearing through his throat. He looked to be in pain, the invisible claws of his twin’s spirit rending at his back with brutal intention.
Other means to get here?
After the dagger like pains subsided the beast shook his head. He recalled a vivid nightmare coated in screams. Dark hills and narrow mountain paths were thundering with the fearful whinnying of horses and barbaric shouts of Mongol hordes. The thick smell of an unnatural fire burned the inside of his nose. He called and called but received no answer there in the darkness. He had always felt comfortable in its presence, but on that day it had been the first time he had truly come to understand the fear humans held of the dark. The unbidden affair of war was all too much for one so young. It soiled the innocence and outlook he held toward the humans they served and severed the respect and fear his kind was to instill into humans. He remembered where it was he stood amidst the savage brutality of war and the idyllic view of peace.
He looked to his tanned hand. Fingers stretched and allowed water rivulets of water to run down between the webs of his fingers. The curved tiles that were spread over the church's roof began to pour streams of the excess water from its crevices. "Is it a lack of pride that keeps one from showing his true from, or is it a lack of ability?" He raised his amber eyes and looked directly into the wyvern's eyes.
His furrowed brows held a deep expression that did not falter as he held his gaze upon the woman's face. "Has anyone ever asked her to be what she cannot be?" He raised his hand up towards the moonlight.
His skin almost appeared to glimmer, like scales in the sun, due to the water that showered his form lightly. "He knows very little of his kind... But he knows a great deal of humans and their weaknesses." What better way to stand among the crowds and listen and learn ways of destroying their unhealthy lifestyles?
He sought to punish the humans and free them of their decadent life choices. He would manipulate than and drag out their worst feelings, freeing the light the Heartless hunted, and in turn searching for the one that had cost him everything. Darkness eventually destroyed everything it touched. It took everything away. He has lost many faces among the growing shadows. But there was always a speck of light deep down... A place of clarity.
Even now, where all else in his memories seemed to have since faded, all that remained clear was the face of his brother who had ran beside him all that way. He would never lose that connection he held with his flesh and blood, his reflection. The hatred on Cai's face was a haunting reminder, of the two of them, he was the violent one. Cao fed off Light and stirred war while Fia, himself, fed on the Darkness and served peace. They were a cycle and together were night and day.
He shook his head. "He knew not that the realm held a name all its own." He would admit his faults with ease.
The man held an appealing sense of honesty toward the self. He believed that in knowing one's own faults, the individual could succeed in vanquishing their failures one by one. Looking to the Heartless that hovered over the demoness' flesh: it made the brute wonder. Turning his gaze to her once more he would again speak up.
"Than why do they not seek to destroy her? Has she no heart?" He knew well why they had not struck him, he who had an oddly similar aura. A breeder of darkness. "Does that not make her, one of them?" It was clear he had little experience with Heartless, personally.
The male moved to squeeze his wrap dry before binding back around his torso. Shaking out his head he would run his fingers through his red tendrils to drag out the excess water. One of his hands appeared to be covered in a leather glove, while his bare hand came up to his neck to wipe away the blood gathered thanks to the woman's claws. It did not appear to pain him or cause discomfort in any way. He stepped out of the rain and into the darkness of the tower. Staring out into the city his felt almost sick.
Below the priests would barely manage to fight back the aggression of the people. While the negativity filled his empty stomach, another source caused it to churn. His eyes widened as he looked around. He had no idea he was on sanctified ground.
"What is this tower?!" He growled out.
Below the priests would suffer little choice in the matter. One of the attending priests would have to climb up and find the man, so they hoped it was, who had scaled the church with such fury. Was he seeking sanctuary? And if so, from what?
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~!| NOTES: Seems suspect that they hang out with you.
Her eyes narrowed at him as she can feel her previous anger subside. As she spoke he seemed to be drifting away. Was he ignoring her? Her jaws clenched imagining how it would feel to smash her fist into his and breaking it. He seemed trapped or distracted in his mind. Was he daft or simply mad? She had a way with picking people to cross, and from his disposition, he looked pathetically vulnerable and weak. He growled to himself before cupping his face only to pacify and gawk at his hands. Did she throw something at him to be so completely lost?
If she wanted, she could’ve used this time to efficiently retaliate for earlier. His guard was down, the opportune moment to attack and make him regret touching her and pissing her off. Gargoyles and man alike who knew her well wouldn’t dare question her actions let alone affiliate them with weakness. She did what she wanted, and although she vowed to destroy humanity even to its last babe, tonight she didn’t feel like kicking around some draconic whelp. He sounded more child-like with the next question. She merely stared him down assuming the question rhetorical; she couldn’t relate. Apparently the prideful member of an obsolete clan wasn’t so prideful or efficient.
“Never,” she answered proudly, “everyone wanted what I have. If they can’t have it, they wanted me to be what I simply refuse, dead.”
She nearly snorted and chuckled at the admittance, “All of that talk of a pride member of what you don’t know. So you wear a face for familiarity. How sad; humans had to be your model.”
Pity. His world was human infested too, and apparently lacked the might of the gargoyles. At least give him something to look up to. She can preach of the gargoyles; they were renowned for their strength and loyalty. They had a strong bond within their community like no other; children had many parents and many rookery siblings; no one was ever alone; there was always family around you. Because they had the strength the human lacked, they feared and yet glorified them. She was sure her display in obtaining the name “Demona” came with a twinge of fear and admiration.
“You fight like a demon,” she can remember his surprise vividly; she was a beautiful and deadly weapon endangering anyone pitted against her. Not having her could be the end of him, Macbeth. He gloated how they would praise and fear her at the same time. That day she felt the high of a goddess; she entrusted another, and he nurtured her rage for her losses bestowing a stage for her grievance and fury on the battlefield. For that, she was titled and officially named, Demona.
“Humans have a need to label and give names to everything. How else could they be any closer to comprehend with their feeble minds?” Getting tired of standing in the rain, she moved to a small alcove of the etched and carved architecture. The indentation would enough to shield her from most of the rain.
For a fraction of a second, her eyes widened, flared between reds, and settled on him.
“Never confuse me with these pests. They tried to take me in stonesleep, but my will and darkness overpowered them. I took one of their own, drowned it in me. They never attacked me again. In contrary, they’ve became attracted to me; they will do for now.”
The humans below were still buzzing, and she thought the rain would be enough to pacify them and retreat to their homes. Her earlier rage had sent heartless into the streets. With all of those hearts nearby, how can they resist? It seemed too opportune. When she was seeking refuge and they went out to hunt, this vagrant, who kicked the hornet’s nest, climbed up and disturbed her peace. How long would it take for them to come looking for him.
“How much of a man-child are you?” She muttered annoyed in how he can even disturb the peace of a church.
“What is this tower?!”
“I said it’s a church, a structure humans come to give honor to the Holy. Do you not know what churches are as well?”
There were churches in Wyvern County, but they weren’t as elaborate or exquisite as this one. Despite how grand Notre Dame was, Demona saw it as a mere vanity project. She couldn’t comprehend how the humans in her world can preach such things, but commit wrong-doings under the same breath. It didn’t help that her people became the mascots for demons and be featured as demonic creatures of nightmares and hell. As far as she was concerned, the humans here were just as flawed and probably even worst in that department. And yet they had to nerve to build a castle in the name of their blind insolence.
Last Edit: Sept 14, 2014 20:17:45 GMT -5 by demona
陰 Dragon ☯ Shaman 陽 Can you see through the mist!?
Far be it for him to deny a human's content in naming something. Dragons were as prideful, if not more, when it can to naming things. When placing a name upon an object or a person one did so under the ritual of gaining ownership of it. Dragons were greatly fond of titles and rank. Oft times they fought amongst themselves to gain such proprietaries. It was a simple name and would help to later identify those that held familiarity with the passage ways. Very few seemed capable of using them, even fewer had the knowledge to avoid them and even less than that held the dominion of mastery over the Dark Corridors and twisted realms.
The beast allowed a crooked smirk to twist his features. The tone of the woman's voice was deep and held twists of annoyance bound beneath the silky threads of speech. It made his heart jump, dance at the delight of her disgust toward the comparison. He was wholly masochistic by his nature, the very thought of being driven to contest with her claws made the wound, she earlier caused, the throb in rhythm to his increased heartbeat. She seemed to hold a hatred toward these shadowy wisps.
"The feeling held toward them stands mutual." He held no qualms with accepting her words, even I'd his senses assured the dragon she was as dark as the night and as twisted as the shadows.
Upon his alerted exclamation of the tower the female would question his age. It was clear he did not hold it as rhetorical, seeing his next words would admit to her a youth only viewed by species of extended vitality. He shook his head, muscles tensing beneath the fabric of his body wrap. Shaking his head, to loose the remaining water in his hair, the dragon would huff out, well aware some would not accept it. He looked relatively youthful, one to be in his prime. But on the other end of the spectrum those with long lives saw him to be a mere pup in his naive youth.
"He has come to his forty-sixth season of life." He would admit with a hint of hesitation.
A gentle whisper grazed over his ear, the luring temptations forced by the demanding words of the other half of his spirit. The woman was useless to the greater nature of the half, but the lesser spirit held providence over being easily swayed by ideas and knowledge. Words the winged female used were strange and did not associate with anything he held knowledge ofemnityungered for knowledge and wished to feed on the ideas that built her stunning form and clear wisdom toward the shadows that now began to hunt below and reduce the ugly crowd that did well to encroach on the Demoness' territory and feed him a hearty dose of emnity.
He muttered under his breathe in a foreign tongue, bitter at his own carelessness. In looking for Sanctuary he had done well to invade the shrine of another. As a Guardian Spirit the elemental beast could not conflict with the land of another. If he sought to heal he would have to seek the permission if that shrine's guardian. Now it was clear why his wounds failed to heal at their usual rate. Scoffing he would shift his weight, lips parting to speak, but a sudden stillness came over the shaman. His pupils dilated in the darkness as his aura shifted from an annoyed runt to a focused hunter.
They were not alone.
It was not long before the distant footfalls of the priest became more audible. The man's breathing was ragged from his race to the top of the tower. The dragon slunk between the stone pillars that anchored the bells' frames. His movements were unlike a Heartless' in the dark; his actions were far beyond the twitchy, spastic reactions of the cretins. The dragon's motions were more comparable to a serpent's, or more amusingly so: a monkey's.
The priest held up a lantern to burn the darkness from its corners, scattering a few Heartless in the process. "I-is anyone there? P-please, come by and by." The shaky priest was unsure what he would run into here.
There was worry for the belltower's guardian. There were many mixed tales of his size, temperament and visage... The Titanic man's amber eyes glowed in the darkness. Keeping from the full light of the lantern the dragon smiled, a warm expression that would seemingly relax the frantic human.
"He is injured, and seeks sanctuary, do no harm and none shall come to him." Both a gentle threat and clear warning.
The priest fumbled the lantern and hurried away, a heavy feeling coming from the brutish man. "Tis granted!" He hurried away.
When the light momentarily hit the dragons eyes they narrowed into slits at the change before he fell into a crouch, subconsciously groping the charm at his hip. Letting his hands come to rest on the ground he sighed out, stretching his neck until it popped, resetting the tired joints.
"If she is neither Human nor Heartless, what is she...?"
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~!| NOTES: Churches are chilling places to lurk at night.
Did he really just ask her that? Narrowed her eyes rolled at the inconvenience. How much more should she reiterate? Like a cat, her tail swayed and whipped suggesting her mood.
“You are indeed young,” her tone held truth and sarcasm, “Youthfulness comes with foolishness and obviously hard of hearing. I’ve already told you; clearly you weren’t listening.”
The ball of her foot pushed her away from the way. Her wings still felt damp; she opened them widely displaying their size before blowing a gust of wind to whip the water off. She was a showy gargoyle; it was her pride and glory, her people.
“They’re littered all over this church, cursed perhaps or made in homage to my people, the Gargoyles,” she assumed he knew nothing of them. If so he wouldn’t waste her time with an previous answered and dumb question, “We fly throughout the night and rest in stonesleep during the day. Our bodies are connected to our world, so we’ll even change indoors or accordingly in different regions. I’ve happen to find a world that doesn’t force me into stonesleep; it’s actually liberating.”
She would never call Traverse Town home, but it was the only place she could nest soundly. She would never have to hide away and go to sleep with the possibility of being mashed. Demona still hid herself, but for other reasons; she never liked human company, so she never sought it out. Also she didn’t want to spur the rats to fear her and in turn hunt for her. For now, she slumbered in the waterways. It was quite a lowlife to live, but their gutters were relatively clean and crisp. She can walk and swim throughout the waterways without forsaking her honor and pride.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stretch her wings and house in this world as well; fortunately she can blend in amongst the other gargoyles when necessary. Even the ones stationed at the church looked onward like the guardians they were so long ago.
“We Gargoyles held pride as guardians once upon a time; we were glorified and rightfully feared, but the pettyfears of humans wasted away my people. We can’t be guardians to mutineers; we were better off looking after our own. Some had hearts too big for their own good; humans are a young race like yourself they’re youthful, which yields foolishness. One thought they can turn things around; it only cost us more livesday after day."
"The talent we have were the things they wanted and used, and yet were the things they feared causing countless genocides.I will not accept the idea that you could be looking at the last gargoyle of Wyvern County. My people aren’t perfect, but we didn’t bring the darkness that separated us all. Our clans were our main priority not squabbling and starting wars.”
陰 Dragon ☯ Shaman 陽 Can you see through the mist!?
He was quite young, and loud, but foolish was hardly the term for him. He had always been highly cautious. The smaller of his clutch of two, he was weaker and farm more vulnerable to the world full of Light. He was often under the abusive thumb of his brother who fed from all of his light aura, while the smaller Fai fed from his dark aura. The pair were symbiotic parasites that fed off one another for a good long time until the pleasure of feeding from the Darkness and Light of others had come to their knowledge. They were voracious in their needs, but youth came with a tag of foolishness that could only last until lessons were learned, or until death was submitted. Fai had to face alone the truth of his weakness and the regret that came with recklessness. He was left alone and the dependence built upon the foundation of his soulmate, his twin, was shattered. It left the dragon faced with anxiety, fear and a wish to not be alone. This wish and his brother’s powerful will transformed his remaining power and feathers into a charm that held what remained of the strong heart.
Fai had learned on that day that foolish actions only beget death. If he died than the last of his family died with him. The name of Jiao-long would forever be cursed with shame. All he wanted to be with his brother was a true Guardian, but without a human family they were exiled. They had no Ancestors to call their own anymore. Their father had done something to cause their exile, at least that was how he felt. What father would allow his children, his beloved wife, to live in isolation and upon the dangerous lands raided by Mongols? What father would vanish before the birth of his sons? Fai felt disgust for that man, and disgust for his own flesh. It was their very nature to be at the bidding of humans, to be their all powerful spirits. But he was nothing. A small and worthless speck that could not even save his mother. Guardians were supposed to protect, but this failure had crushed his spirit. But the loss of his brother split his soul. He reached down to his hip, touching at the Feather Charm in a subconscious action. He always had to make sure his brother was close. He watched the human scurry away.
He would have no guidance in what was the right way to lead humans, so he did so with the anger and spite he held for their abandonment of a young dragon who had only ever wanted to protect a family. His love was his hatred. His hatred was all the love he had left in his lonely heart. All he had to live on was the promise he held toward his brother: a promise to restore his body so that they may become Guardians together. After all it had been beaten into him: his inferiority. His brother assured that Fai could not exist without him. He looked to the demoness, his curiosity twitching at her motions. Had he his long ears the boy would prick them like saucers. Looking over to her, his body barely shifting as his head twisted to peer over his broad shoulder. The fur-covered length that ran across the left collar of his shoulder would hide his dark face. The soft warm the feathers provided him with a warm, comforting scent that often caught the smell of nature against it. The rains, the winds, the leaves or even the warm smoke of a campfire. The soft warmth reminded him of his brother. They shared their bed and slept in each others embrace, even as they grew this habit never left. Adults, and yet still. But it was as such with twins. Their bonds, even in death, could not be broken.
A Gargoyle she aggressively asserted.
Fai, who had been a loud, rambunctious lout had become silent and full of humbling awe. The expression was clearly shown on his face. His strongly pressed brows fell and his arms slowly sunk lifeless to his sides. His mind tried tracing the thoughts he had, but everything he had held up until that point: the anger at the human touching his possession, the annoyance of his defeat, and the pain of his wounds. Before her words, everything was gone. His face fell, looking as if he was struck. While Fai was smacked in the face by an existential crisis, down below the priest was in a tizzy. He had claimed that there was indeed a man calling for sanctuary, but something was not right about him. He spoke, saying that the male appeared to have a devil-shaped shadow, but how was it he was on such holy ground? Was perhaps the man possesed? Cursed? They could not simply leave this alone, the head priest had to check this out for himself. Certainly it was merely the light playing tricks on the young priest? He hadn’t the experience he did with the Hunchback of the Tower. The bells often cast strange shadows, but the Gargoyles that watched over the Church protected it from the evil venture of cursed spirits.
The word resonated. He felt his heart twist and the flash of his brother’s face before his eyes. As he fully turned to face the demoness, the presumed mogui, he allowed his lips to part, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. He stared at Demona as if he saw a ghost, and he most certainly did, His brother’s form hovered before the demoness as she stood with pride, staring down at Fai in a dominant display. The beast began to kneel, slowly lowering himself to a crouch. His sharp, amber eyes darted this way and that before he looked to the ground. It was as if her very presence forced the weight on his currently wingless back to increase. His brother’s laughing voice could be heard loudly in his ear, the cold, cruel power that the Light Wielder possessed. The cold words nicked at his ears like the edge of a blade.
‘This is where you belong.’ His harsh whispers hissed from the charm, into Fai’s consciousness. ‘On your knees weakling. You can’t even march on another’s shrine without feeling their power. Are you --hahah trembling? Just an egg layer...’
He was shaking, his muscles finding it hard to grip as his fingertips dug against the solid, wood ground. He hated this feeling, but he needed it as well. Feeling helpless was disgusting, but being without someone leading him was unbearable. This was frustrating. Had he the capacity to even bring attributes beyond his wings to his form his tail would be beating against the ground with violent attribute. For now he could only sneer, his lip curling as his brows pinched down. It was the face of a beast who had met his match. He was a fighter and liked very much to bring others trouble, but he was not stupid and knew when his match was met. He gave his head a shake to brush off those flighty emotions and attempted to respond to her.
"The ultimate goal of studying the art of war is not to harm but rather to heal, enhance, and preserve life." He what he repeated from his memory before looking up at Demona. “Than, we are not so different.” His eyes drifted back down onto the ground as if he could see there a reflection of himself. “On his world, they are called Shi. The shi, protect the humans, and in return they are worshiped. The power of a Shi is directly correlated with the power of who they serve.” He pushed to stand, head turning to stare off into the night.
He reached out his right hand, his sleeve running straight to the lower portion of his palm. On the wrist of his sleeve was a strange pattern that mimicked a bracelet which bound him like a shackle. His long fingertips stretched out and tried to grab at the stars, but he would never reach them with crippled wings. His red bangs fell over his eyes as he opened his mouth to take a deep breathe.
“He has no family to serve. Exiled. He has to gain his power in another way.” Was this admittance of what he was? He looked to Demona. “Everyone he has held close to his heart, are gone.” The one that remained but a whisper. “He wants to become stronger, so that perhaps he could find the one that took his brother’s heart and restore it. He has heard that all the hearts taken, have a home. He wants to find this place, and burn it.” He said with a powerful finality that did not serve one so young, who had so much to learn.
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~!| NOTES: Pride is relative, but what you do with yourself shows dignity.
Gargoyles were a tight knit family unit; with the increase of attacks and death by the humans’ hands once they discovered metal, they reformed their ways to be more wholesome. Parental lineage was non-existence; every adult have responsibility in tending to all the young. Even if they were bound by blood, they are bound by the clan. There weren’t any only children for all had their rookery siblings they were born with, and there weren’t ever any orphans. The clan was everything: mother, father, guardian, leader, brother, and sister. With their tight bound and culture there were very few instances of crime. It brought shame on the clan, and most things were ironed out with scolding and seclusion to the rookery. Everyone knew one’s fault and carrying the clan’s disappointment was an uneasy burden; it tended to be enough to turn things around. The worst case scenario meant banishment. Cast out from the pack, they aren’t sent away on their own hoping another clan will take them in. With gargoyle clans functioning in similar aspects, one can quickly learn not to make the same mistakes twice if they didn’t want to be a lone rogue.
In those days, rogues never last long. Being one, he or she can easily hide, but they will never have the protection of a clan.
And yet something so strong forged by the bonds of hearts fell so quickly be it by smashing or by the death of their world. Demona nearly sneered at the gargate statues around her. They were made in the image of her people, but the humans would never understand what lied underneath the rocky exterior. They were more than just ornaments, but individuals with hope, desires, fears, and at one point love. Family was the foundation, and without it, they can easily be as cold as stone. She was the coldest and hardest of them all; layers of sediments pilled and coated her heart every time she lost a clan, a family. In her experience, it was preferably better to be alone to an extent; one can’t lose what they lack. Although she missed the fullness of a clan, the void was filled with rage, vengeance, and darkness. They were the only company she had and what’s been keeping her alive for all of these years.
She was too deep in thought; speaking highly of her people left her vulnerable for a moment, but the tender spots calloused over. It was then she noticed him kneeling; naturally she frowned. Was this flattery or mockery? For once, she withheld herself from being brash and waited for him to explain himself.
We are not so different
to heal. to enhance. to preserve.
She wished she could claim those and preserved the life she crafted. It wasn’t proper to think of it or any of them. It wasn’t their way to claim direct parenthood to their birth children; it would be poor tastes to display favoritism amongst rookery children. But that was personally hers, theirs. Even so not only did she betrayed it, but the entire lot. As a gargoyle and as second in command, all of them would’ve been her children. Her heart flushed with warmth before it faded; she didn’t have much to feed the flame. She bore the shame of her clan flailing to protect them.
She eyed him as he mentioned his family, and like most, they are gone. So that was the rogue’s purpose, “You want to recollect what’s already gone, storm into the resting plane? Are you seeking to reclaim the dead?"
A naive ambition.
Like a shadow, she stood at an angle behind him Her arms crossed beneath her wings. She wondered how much of her was intrigued. Was it pity she felt, or was the old gargoyle to proud and rugged to admit empathy, "Why not forge a family, bind and serve it alone, grasp the power of a clan?”
The place he had called home was bitterly cold, but with his brother and mother it had been forgotten. The cold became their ground of play. It was where they trained and practiced for the day they could stand proudly as Stone Guardians, true Shi, among the ancestors of their chosen family. Even exiled from a family and without a shrine of their own, the pair held onto hope so long as their mother smiled. With her smile and her leadership they were able to remain strong and grow. The mountains had gave birth to a pair of strong guardians, but he slew two more. All that was left was the shell of a hatchling, weakened by the predation of his own sibling. As elemental born dragons they fed from the world around them. Cai fed from the Light released when Darkness grew, and Fai fed from the Darkness expelled as the Light rose in the hearts of others. But isolated and alone they only had one another and being the smallest of the pair Fai faced the cruelty of his other half, the abuse of a being far more powerful. He had become emotionally and physically dependent on Cai’s cruelty, because within that cruelty was a gentle affection that only wanted the amber-eyed twin to become stronger.
There the beast crouched. It was not in fear, but an understanding. He had thought her a mogui, something to be questioned, detested. He had found it strange she was in, what she had said, to be the shrine of another, when he had questioned it. He had been mistaken and had no problem correcting his mistake with a proper posture offered to one older than he in rank and standing. This was the reason he was still so far from his goal. As Cai asserted: he could not even feel the shrine of another. The power on the land was so overwhelming that the sickening feeling could have easily been excused by an ill stomach or the very injures he carried and could not adequately heal from. His state, at this moment, was comparable to the leaves of a bamboo tree: drooping down in modest display, but his back was bent, showing weakness. He wanted to become stronger so he had the endurance and perseverance to face the end of the world and return. He scoffed, almost amused by her words.
“One does not rush into battle, even one as young as he, knows this as the ultimate truth.” He raised his hand to look at it.
That weak, pink flesh was so easily pierced, broken, stained. But what lay beneath it? It was a perplexing question he had suffered for a great amount of time. He had not seen other dragons. He knew not what he was meant to be or how he was made to look. He had been alone so long that he had forgotten his own reflection born of generations. He sighed, before flexing his fingers. He clenched his hand into a fist as he steeled his mind to remain determined. He pushed to stand and stared off.
“Because he is not yet strong enough. If he cannot brave the world beyond this one… then how can he be expected to maintain his power beneath a human’s capacity to destroy?” He peered at her from over his shoulder. “There are many worlds beyond this one, many that lack human influence, many saturated with it. He needs to find a place with balance…” But before he could continue the sound of hurried footsteps carried up the wooden stairs toward the tower.
The head priest and two clergymen had rushed up with lanterns, worry of the supposed possessed man that hid among the shadows of the bells....
A crack of thunder would light the area momentarily. Though his body could not take the form of his kind, his shadow did not forget. The picturesque reflection of a monster that easily reflected in this feline slit, colored eyes... .
龍 Fai 'Titan' Jiao-long 巫 46 | Male | Dragon profile
TAGS: Demona~! | NOTES: Gargoyles were once perceived as devils, but now guard the church. What will the eyes of man see now?
“You say we are here to,” she sharply cut in as his voice faded. Her long ears twitched picking up the unwanted company. She snorted, “so you always come with an entourage? You should just scare them off.”
Her tail swayed playfully as she pondered what to do. Oh yes, she can scare them, threaten them, but that would only heighten fear and bring on their soldiers. She can take them, but that would make this world hostile to her. But why should she care of ruffling a few feathers and skeletons? This world meant nothing to her, and her people can’t thrive here without living in the shadows. This world was littered with hypocrisy, while other humans lived in the sewage and catacombs to avoid prosecutions.
Standing on the balls of her feet, she cocked her hip with a hum. Lightening cracked as the light hugged her frame; the rain still falling on her head. She can hide herself away and be amongst the architecture, but she was sick of hiding herself away, running. She could see it crystal clear: their imminent fear birthing hostility and violence.
“A-are you still here young man,” an old man’s voice rang with dwindling confidence. He started to call from the door, but ducked back with another flash of lighting illuminated the church’s roof. He halted waiting for the thunder to fade away; it felt too foreboding, “it wouldn’t do a young man well to stay in the rain. If you seek sanctuary you should come inside, and if you need help from the Lord, we can assist you and relieve of your-“
Light flared brightly drowning the warm yellow glow of his lantern in a hot violent flash. The flashes outlined a body; it looked cloaked from a far. He assumed it was the young man he was told of, the one stained by a terrible demon. The glowing red eyes were alarming and yet confirmed the buzzing rumor.
“Demon,” the word was forced out of his mouth with a gasp of fear; the atmosphere didn’t make him feel homier. And his dwindling comfort even had the clergymen shaking. Or was it simply because the rain was making them cold? They all raised their lanterns, staggering; the warm light didn’t stretch for enough to reveal two people instead of one.
While they were ascending up the stairs, Demona shifted to stand in front of Titan waiting for them. A smile twisted at their choice of words; they weren’t completely wrong, “And what if he doesn’t will you merely pray louder?”
She wondered what surprised them more what she looked like or she seemed to be a woman. This wasn’t the victim he was ready to see, “Y-you you had sieged the lad’s soul. Tell me demon. What is your name? Speak it and be true.”
Sidestepping, she looked back at the fledgling. Her wings unclipped to shake the water off ignoring their gasps and babbling before closing them, “If he didn’t like my company, I’m sure he wouldn’t welcomed me. Well whelp, would you wish to be detained and rid of your monstrosity, your decrepit state?
With your face, you can blend in with them, merge with them, and forget their neglect, your exile. Live surrounded by these people and yet still feel empty, hallow. You may not be of my flesh, but I can claim you into it.”
“My son do not yield to this enchantress, this succubus!”
Her eyes snapped at the term. Her eyes flashed red before snarling with bared fangs; her wings spread to increase her size threateningly. Such tactics worked with smaller meeker beings, and seeing them cower brought her satisfaction, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
It was a game to her until they insulted her. At times she enjoyed playing the role of the monster; it was the only ways these days she obtained the justified fear and respect. It even tickled her how they thought of him as a lost boy, but in a way they were correct. She just was the demons withholding him.
She paid the priests no mind; they were too hesitant to approach them neither were they too prepared to deal with a ‘demon’ of her class. The high priest whispered harshly to the men behind him, and only one ducked away into the church. It would take some running before he can call on any nearby guards.
“Find your strength in a clan; find it in me. You say we are to heal, enhance, and preserve. Heal yourself by building with me; preserve what we can make, and with the power of a clan you can enhance and BRAVE beyond these FOUL WORLDS. Until such sanctuary exists, may all their worlds fall in their own darkness including,” her eyes turned wickedly at the high priest who began chanting a prayer, “this one.”
“None respect us here; there’s no need to cling to it. We’re either monsters or tools and ornaments.”
"Son, please, whatever sins you have committed can be forgiven. No good can come out of settling with this evil. With the blackness of their hearts, no good can arise from it, but death," he was pleading to a stranger, one he hoped he can save from damnation, "even if she vexes you and you can't move at your will, speak her name!"
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