Ashes of Angels' Wings :: Closed ::

[AlhazredTheMad]

"I was born into a place of burning waterfalls and frozen clouds, the ever stagnant sky never dissuading from its color of somber sanguine. When it rained, blood would begin to well up from the flesh like sand beneath my feet, then float towards the framed melancholy above. Trees retained the likeness of the product of evisceration, mutilation, and flat out defilement. Organ like branches extending from a trunk of writhing bodies of infants, animals, and some things altogether incomprehensible, some of them whole, some split in half, in thirds, fourths, oh and the leaves! —oh— the leaves! Something betwixt a sodden blanket and flayed human skin they were, so peculiar to observe too. They never ceased their dripping of their crimson sap either, which turns into quite a bother when you attempt to gather some meager sleep beneath one of them.

"I remember I would spend decades at a time sitting by one of the flesh trees, plucking off the skin like leaves to shudder at the delcious screams the tree emanated, each one as horrorificly spine tingling as the last," he sighed then, his eyes half lidded. You could swear, with no shadow of a doubt, that this man desperately needed to be sectioned. He turned to you, his cold conniving smile stabbing into the depths of your soul, involuntarily making you flinch.

" 'But, Alhazred'," the man said, emulating yourself in a deliberately high toned voice, " 'if you loved the fiery embrace of your home, why ever did you leave, to this shithole of all places?' " The man spun on his heel, his back now facing you.

"Ah, simple, my child," he said pointedly, a finger also directed towards the sky, "I'm working." He twirled around to look you in the eyes again. "Why, you ask?" You clearly hadn't said anything to this man since he first appeared in front of you like a sort of David Copperfield aspirant, but he was obviously enjoying himself, so you let him proceed with his little routine. "Once again, simply answered. My employer wishes me to find someone. Who? Oh, now I can't tell you thaaaat!" he giggled madly. "Why? Hmmm." he tapped a finger on his lip, almost appearing to seriously think about the notion. "Well, let's just say that the aforementioned person I am to find retains the potential to become a bit of a bother to my employer, and he has taken the initiative and deployed the one you see before you to address this issue."

"Oh yes, of course! My line of work is veeery hazardous," the man replied to another question he had concocted within that defunct brain of his. "The man whom I'm supposed to locate's company will undoubtedly send their best to halt my progress, but fear not, I am quite skilled at what I do." The man's ears twitched, as if there had been a whistle specially tuned for only his ears that was being blown. An emotion glided across his amber pupils, what it was you could not discern, but you didn't like it. The man stopped smiling and looked to the night sky, or what seemed more likely, 'past' it. His gaze returned to you, his disturbing smile fully returned. "I do thank you for listening to me. I was afraid I'd go mad if I had to keep all of that bottled up for another day." He took your hand in his own and shook firmly.

"If you can resist the urge, please refrain saying anything about this night," he said as he unclasped your hand and casually saluted to you as he began to stroll off, thankfully not appearing as if he was going to turn around again. You shake your head in disbelief and a chuckle comes from you before you begin to walk in the opposite direction. "I'm quite serious about you not telling anyone," you heard his voice whisper 'inside' of your head. You spin, eyes scanning the parking lot for his figure. Nothing.

_____________

RedYume and myself are the only members that are approved to post here. If you are not RedYume or AlhazredTheMad, please refrain from posting anything on this thread, be it slander or praise. Questions, comments, and/or concerns should be PMed to me.​

 

[RedYume]

Cynthia stood a long moment after the man, Alhazred, had disappeared into the night, wondering why he had appeared to her of all people. Did he not realize who she was; that she too was 'working'? She would have assumed that her position had been obvious to someone with his keen senses, but apparently not... She had been mistaken for a human by the very being she was supposed to be hunting. Well, not really hunting, more like keeping an eye out for him.

She began to walk briskly back the way she had come, purposefully stepping over the spot the demon had been. Her heart fluttering in her chest like a caged bird, eager to be free of the confines of her body. She really hadn't expected to have him reveal himself willingly, much less hold a particularly informational one-sided conversation with her. Her... Of all people.

Her blue Converse lace-ups made almost no sound against the wet asphalt, despite the force with which she put one foot in front of the other. Maybe it had been intentional; a show of hubris and invulnerability. That at least would mean she showed up on the radar as a divine being. But he had been so lackadaisical about the whole encounter that her she had to completely dismiss the theory. No, he really had mistaken her for a mere mortal.

As she put distance between herself and the demon, fear gave way to anger. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She was an angel, a full fledged, wing bearing, halo toting, celestial being blessed with immortality and eternal youth.

"You and I both know that isn't entirely true," a voice behind her said calmly, "So don't be so offended."

Cynthia turned on heel, her hand already up, index finger pointing accusingly at the new target of her anger, "Don't start with me, Beau. If he had done it to you, you'd be insulted too."

"No," the soft, masculine voice continued, "I would be counting my blessings and reporting in at dawn, just like I am supposed to."

Cynthia could see the other angel's outline in the darkness, his tall and slender frame coming towards her. He had his hands in the pockets of his tight gray jeans, thumbs playing with the belt loops, tugging at them with each step. He was lanky, bony, and beautifully pale as only an ethereal being could be. His black hair in comparison was dark aas jet, inky even against the backdrop of the urban night.

As he passed beneath the sickly yellow light of the streetlamp, she could see he was smiling at her. It was soft, gentle smile of understanding. He knew why she was upset and he understood, but it was still a little funny. Even as she felt her anger evaporate, defeated by his gentle gaze, she tried to hold her most fervent glare on him. It just wasn't going to happen.

With a sigh she tucked her dark brown hair behind her ears. He was right and she knew it. Still, it would have been nice to be recognized for her station in life. How long had she had her wings? Two hundred years? Hadn't she gained any sort of... aura? Power? Flashy T-shirt that read 'I'm an angel!'?

Beau stood directly before her, placing a slender hand on her shoulder as if he could read her thoughts, "There will be time to flex your wings, Cyn. By the time this conflict is resolved, he'll know without a doubt what you are."

She looked up at him, her dark green eyes gazing into his beautiful blue irises. She really loved his eyes. Of everything that made him so disarming, she had to say his eyes were his finest quality, "I know I'm here because I can pass as human, but it's still a little embarrassing."

He chuckled, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as he started towards the edge of the parking lot. With a playful grin he looked back over his shoulder, shoulder length black hair whipping around in the light breeze, "You're a spy, that's hot."

Cynthia couldn't help but smile back. When he put it like that, it sounded much more interesting and important. She trotted to catch up to him, slowing to keep pace with his slow, long legged stride, "It's hot, hm? Don't tell Michael that or he'll put you on another detail."

"I won't say a word, Cyn," he replied amicably, "I won't say a single word."

 

[AlhazredTheMad]

He felt akin to Atlas finally having the globe removed from his shoulders, his previously disclosed information given to him from the Second Magistrate of Hell now shared with a random passerby of rather diminutive physical stature. He pirouetted through the alley, the drift of his trench coat sailing in perfect semi-circles. The hexagonal cells that adorned the leather lay in a subtle yet quite distinctive pattern that flowed throughout the blackness of his mantle. The silvery outlines of the polygons glinted from the sickly light that filtered into the alley from one of the decrepit street lights outside.

He came to a sudden stop, his arms flared out to the side and his torso bent at an odd angle while his feet were placed apart; an epiphany occurred. How long had he been here? Seven rises and sets of the sun, correct? If he only went this long with almost succumbing to the horrors of the knowledge he beheld, how would he make it another without leveling an elementary school or five? With his thoughts still quite muddled, he was suddenly distracted by a rift splitting the wall to his right. An invisible blade cut through the concrete and brick, a faint red line stretching from the tenth block in the wall to the filthy alley floor appeared, looking disturbingly similar to a slice into flesh. The wall parted, the sides of the rent stretching like a demented pair of canted lips, revealing a void of absolute black.

Alhazred almost expected what happened next. Tendrils snaked from their home of satanic influence and seized each of his limbs, their grip unnecessarily rough. "Oh boy, a talk with the Magistrate," he mused whilst rolling his amber orbs around in his skull. A fifth tentacle emerged from the blackness and slapped him across his face before he was yanked into the void. The portal's lips came closed, and the red line that had appeared before gradually evaporated.

He was dragged into a vacuum of utter darkness. No stars like you'd expect to see whilst in space, no; there was absolute nothingness. Save for the Second Magistrate that sat upon her throne of polished bone in front of him. She sat with her legs crossed at the knees, a dress of liquid velvet trailing off of her curves and into the black beneath her throne. She beheld a goblet in her left hand, her right resting on an infant's skull that served as the armrest. She didn't even look at him, the substance sloshing about in her chalice far more interesting than his own devishly handsome countenance.

"Whatever shall I do with you, dear Alhazred?" she hummed into her glass as she sipped, her amethyst eyes falling upon him as she drank. She brushed a lock of jet from her face, her ashen face truly a sight to behold. The Second Magistrate stood from her seat then, and casually lobbed her glass aside. No crashing or shattering resounded, a testament that her cup ever existed. Her hips rolled beneath her red dress as she strode towards Alhazred, the fabric not really a fabric, and more like a liquid that flowed constantly over her body. Drops of crimson fell from the sleeves of her gown as she reached a hand up and gently held his chin. "Hm?"

Alhazred, being the snide character he is, grinned and answered her without hesitation. "Preferably release me, milady Martala."

"To do what, go around the city and confide within angels about Hell's business?" she snapped, her features growing dangerously dark, but in an instant they vanished. She released his chin and turned, her shoulders sagging with frustration. Suddenly she whipped about and brought her hand across Alhazred's face, but no sound came forth. Alhazred blinked twice. She had definitely slapped him. She was looking at him again, her arms folded beneath her breasts, her lips tilted in a disapproving manor. "I'm not sure if you're naive because you're brilliant, or your brilliant because you're naive," she sighed. "What good would it have served for you to tell an angel about your assignment? You do know you are on an assignment to assassinate one of their kind, right?"

Alhazred studied her face with a brow raised, and nodded.

"Then why?" she asked, exasperated, her arms slapping down to her sides.

"I was bored," he said simply.

She tilted her head, and a sort of pained look marred her features. "You were . . . bored?" she asked. Alhazred nodded slowly. The Second Magistrate pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger of her left hand. She sighed, and turned again, this time waving him off. "Off to the human realm with you. I'll decide some ramifications for your idiocy at a later date, but Hephaestus is expecting you soon. Go now." A grin spread across Alhazred's face as he was sucked backwards through the void. She gazed into the blackness ahead of her longingly. "Sometimes I wonder why you created him," she said to the unlikely empty space.

:: I swear more will come, but this is all my mind can produce at three in the morning >_< ::​

 

[RedYume]

Cyn came away from her meeting with Michael feeling less than fulfilled. She had rehashed her entire interlude with the demon, adding her own commentary where she felt his body language or tone expressed more than his words alone had. In the end she felt like the arch angel was barely listening to her, his gaze distant and dismissive. It was insult to injury, more accurately insult to insult but that that just sounded silly. Her own superior barely acknowledged her valuable information. Was she really so unimportant as all that? Or did it hearken back to when she first got her wings- an token gesture after her unfortunate death?

"Whatever," she huffed, walking down the sidewalk angrily. She didn't want to think about it anymore. An immortal existence would be so much more tolerable if she felt important, but the odds were stacked so high against her that she couldn't even see over the pile.

It was late afternoon by the time she finally neared her home, the pent house of a mediocre high rise. While the term 'pent house' evoked visions of luxury and extravagance, Cyn's abode was not anything more than the concrete meaning of the word... It was on the top floor, the roof. The interior was perhaps a eight hundred square feet, with a single bedroom, small kitchen and living room, and a second room barely big enough to qualify as her study and office. It wasn't that she couldn't afford more, she just chose not to.

The interesting thing about her top floor home, was the expanse of open rooftop she was allotted. Whatever space her home did not cover, was somewhat of a unique backyard. Of course it was completely concrete, but she had brought up all sorts of stonework, statuary, dirt and plants to make it her own personal sanctuary in the city. Her official reason for the top floor was to be able to flex her wings at will, but the truth was that she loved her garden and its cool greenery. Wisteria, jasmine, holly hocks, and geraniums were some of her favorites scattered in pots and planters over the flat, urban expanse. They reminded her of a home, long gone but never quite forgotten.

As she passed the familiar brick building that heralded the start of her block, she paused, peering down the narrow alley in silent appraisal before turning to warily step inside. The busy din of the city streets seemed to fall away as she entered, replaced by the hollow buzz and metallic taste of temporal disturbance. Someone had crossed over the threshold, skipped out of Earth's metronomic rhythm to somewhere beyond.

Cyn grit her teeth as she tried to concentrate, tried to push out the intense buzzing in her ears. She knew it wasn't really even there to begin with, just a physical representation of her brain's attempt to filter what it was sensing. Coupled with the coppery, almost bloody taste that pervaded her mouth, she could honestly say that her 'angelic' senses were imperfect; faulty due to her mortal origins. There were just some things that didn't translate properly.

She spit onto the alley floor in an attempt to clear her mouth of the awful taste, frustrated at her own ineptitude. At least she could sense something, right? But it wasn't good enough, it wasn't right. Any normal angel could have sensed things with acuity she could still only dream of.

She touched the wall with a hesitant hand, feeling along the aged brick and mortar as she tried to glean more from the disturbance. To any mortal, it was an ordinary alley and an ordinary wall. No strange smells, or tastes, or sounds. So of course to anyone passing by, she looked odd... Or maybe high. High was at least a believable malady. Much more so than 'investigative angel' anyway.

Cyn let out a small gasp as the bricks beneath her hand seemed to part like a gruesome maw, splitting to reveal the inky depths of the abyss beyond. With a tight squeak she shot backwards, pressing her slim form against the opposite wall. So much for going home and relaxing...

 

[RedYume]

It seems like you aren't really focused on this RP. I am retracting my involvement due to a continued lack of activity. Thank you for your time and best of luck with your future projects.

 

[Beco]

Can anyone join this?