VandalHeart
The Demon
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2002
- Posts
- 2,860
New Orleans...near future.
The Mardi Gras Night Club. "Mardi Gras YEAR ROUND!!!" the sign on the door exclaims to an uncaring city whose inhabitants are fed up with Mardi Gras and the hopeless throng it brings every year with the promise of a drunken haze and mindless sex. Filthy city. "Why did I have to be banished to here of all places?" it thought to itself out loud. At 5' 9" and with its hair under a baseball cap, there really was nothing intriguing about the look of the thing that had been held in the attic of the Ursuline Convent for two hundred years...except for the fact that it was wearing sunglasses at night...
It walked into the first presence of another soul for all that time, and immediatly saw the Angel over by the jukebox. In an earlier time, he would have turned and ran, not wishing to be in the presence of a Guardian's ward, lest he make it possible for the Angel to actually hurt him. But, now, he only said under his breath, "figures." He wasn't going to hurt anyone here...those days were behind him. But because of this, the normal rules still applied: Angels and Daemons may not harm each other without capacity within their domains. So he might go through this night unnaccosted. None of these thoughts stopped him from hoping that she didn't notice him.
He walked up to the bar and stood next to a man with the sweet stench of murder covering his sleek assassins body. He took his drink, and then noticed that the man was staring at the Angel, and a thought crossed his mind.
"Go for it, man. You look like her type." He looked up to see the mans reaction.
In the corner past the man, however, he noticed a naked...ELF?!? Now what was she doing out of hell...she should be as banished to that plane as he is to this one. He decided to leave the young witch alone for now, and talk with her later, but for now, he would watch the comedy of errors he hoped he just started between the killer and the Angel...
The Mardi Gras Night Club. "Mardi Gras YEAR ROUND!!!" the sign on the door exclaims to an uncaring city whose inhabitants are fed up with Mardi Gras and the hopeless throng it brings every year with the promise of a drunken haze and mindless sex. Filthy city. "Why did I have to be banished to here of all places?" it thought to itself out loud. At 5' 9" and with its hair under a baseball cap, there really was nothing intriguing about the look of the thing that had been held in the attic of the Ursuline Convent for two hundred years...except for the fact that it was wearing sunglasses at night...
It walked into the first presence of another soul for all that time, and immediatly saw the Angel over by the jukebox. In an earlier time, he would have turned and ran, not wishing to be in the presence of a Guardian's ward, lest he make it possible for the Angel to actually hurt him. But, now, he only said under his breath, "figures." He wasn't going to hurt anyone here...those days were behind him. But because of this, the normal rules still applied: Angels and Daemons may not harm each other without capacity within their domains. So he might go through this night unnaccosted. None of these thoughts stopped him from hoping that she didn't notice him.
He walked up to the bar and stood next to a man with the sweet stench of murder covering his sleek assassins body. He took his drink, and then noticed that the man was staring at the Angel, and a thought crossed his mind.
"Go for it, man. You look like her type." He looked up to see the mans reaction.
In the corner past the man, however, he noticed a naked...ELF?!? Now what was she doing out of hell...she should be as banished to that plane as he is to this one. He decided to leave the young witch alone for now, and talk with her later, but for now, he would watch the comedy of errors he hoped he just started between the killer and the Angel...
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