January 18th, 2014
January 18th, 2014
ARTIST: fauxreblogsthings
AUTHOR: Kelbora/General Kitty Girl
January 18, 2014
~One~
Blood was so fascinating to him. The liquid genetic memory that sustained life continued pouring out of him and all he could do was stare in wonder. It was so warm, this crimson sap of humanity…it could keep a human body going for decades and power the endless complexities of its mind. For a being sustained on the cast off sorrows and pains of others, essentially the fumes of mankind’s despair…it was so wonderful to finally have substance. To be thawed without needing the touch of hellfire against his skin.
This death was so…beautiful.
“If only you had obeyed the man could have been spared, you selfishmonster!”
His glacier blue eyes glowed with the power of his demonic-spirit so close to the surface of this mortal shell, and looked up to behold the man whose sword kept him staked to the base of the dais. The power of heavenly steel kept him trapped within the body he’d possessed to walk the earth…though it would also take the life of his vessel in turn. It was trivial, really.
Though the furious seraph, the underling of St. Michael before him, was not so inconsequential.
However much the angel continued to lash him with his angry words, the ensnared demon decided to spend his last moments marveling his executioner. His hair looked as though his halo had turned to spun silk above his head to crown such a flawless face. His eyes were the color of life’s natural zenith, the spring the demon had actually absconded from hell to appreciate. Autumn fell in a myriad of gold and yellow over his body, as though God Himself had taken the season and fashioned earthly armor to shelter His beloved soldier. His skin was winter, white like Christmas snow and tinged with the Yule sunrise that colored him red with emotion.
It was ironic to him that the embodiment of the all he’d ever longed to see in existence was in this angel. The dream he’d yearned to live since waking beneath the Devil’s altar; to be human and live beneath a sky and not a ceiling of earth, to see the world ever changing around him, while God’s breathes and tears created sensation upon his skin…
It was all he wanted, it was everything to him…and now his last chance was growing cold at the feet of a weeping crucifix in Boston.
Everything was quiet before he realized his angel was kneeling over him, his hands on the hilt of the sword in his gut and eyes locked onto his…faltering.
“You’re crying,” he stated, as though afraid of his own words voicing something blasphemous.
The demon lifted a bloodstained hand from his wound to his face and felt evidence of this truth. Tears were indeed falling and he smiled, “I’ve…always wondered what that would be like.”
The angel stilled again and the demon felt the other’s indecision as tangibly as his body heat, which was so warm…his own dying body ached for it. “You’re a demon…demons don’t cry. Who are you?”
Who are you?
I wish I knew…
Darkening blue eyes found spring again and all at once he calmed and stared once more in wonder.
God so loved His angels that He gave them flesh when performing His will on earth. This body before him was beautiful, strong…and mortal…
The Devil so hated this world he gave his demons the power to invade and corrupt life. Any life.
This life.
His hand covered in tears and blood, his muscles straining to reach out and touch that flawless face (which surprisingly did not pull away) rested against the other’s cheek and for the first time in his life…there was peace.
And a jealousy that would cower the Devil himself.
“I am you.”
Claws erupted from his once human nails and latched into that angelic skin. The seraph gasped then screamed, but not even the burning holy water he bled could change the demon’s course, as he jerked the angel forward into a searing kiss. The demon’s free hand arrested the other’s arm but not before the sword was wretched from his mortal vessel and repositioned to stab his heart.
The blade never finished its purpose, as the angel was suddenly paralyzed - and no longer alone in its own mind.
The seraph shrieked and fell onto his back, crying out with only his echoes in the vaulted ceiling above to respond. He convulsed and seized, tearing at his own skin and demanding that this terrible darkness invading his soul leave. He could feel inhuman hands wrapping around his heart, digging talons into the muscle and now controlling each beat on a whim. It was through these means that he felt himself growing weaker and weaker. He could hear the beats in his head becoming lethargic…and finally stopping.
He stared unseeingly up at the night sky through stained glass…stagnant…and cold.
The first thump was faint; the second was just as so…then a third and soon a steady succession. His eyes blinked once…twice…then opened fully and he could see St. Peter’s likeness staring back. The church was so quiet but for his heart beat and soon the clink of his armor, as he pushed himself up and sat back on his haunches. He looked at his hands, turning them over and back, seeing them barely soiled and…so much smaller than his last.
As he stood, he looked down at his growing shadow in the candlelight and a smile spread across his face.
“Arthur…that’s your name, right?” he whispered to the darkness and beheld the twisted hybrid of his new feathered silhouette. “We’re beautiful together, you and I…the horns your halo rests upon look just right for you.”
~Fin~
ARTIST: fauxreblogsthings
AUTHOR: Kelbora/General Kitty Girl
January 18, 2014
~One~
Blood was so fascinating to him. The liquid genetic memory that sustained life continued pouring out of him and all he could do was stare in wonder. It was so warm, this crimson sap of humanity…it could keep a human body going for decades and power the endless complexities of its mind. For a being sustained on the cast off sorrows and pains of others, essentially the fumes of mankind’s despair…it was so wonderful to finally have substance. To be thawed without needing the touch of hellfire against his skin.
This death was so…beautiful.
“If only you had obeyed the man could have been spared, you selfishmonster!”
His glacier blue eyes glowed with the power of his demonic-spirit so close to the surface of this mortal shell, and looked up to behold the man whose sword kept him staked to the base of the dais. The power of heavenly steel kept him trapped within the body he’d possessed to walk the earth…though it would also take the life of his vessel in turn. It was trivial, really.
Though the furious seraph, the underling of St. Michael before him, was not so inconsequential.
However much the angel continued to lash him with his angry words, the ensnared demon decided to spend his last moments marveling his executioner. His hair looked as though his halo had turned to spun silk above his head to crown such a flawless face. His eyes were the color of life’s natural zenith, the spring the demon had actually absconded from hell to appreciate. Autumn fell in a myriad of gold and yellow over his body, as though God Himself had taken the season and fashioned earthly armor to shelter His beloved soldier. His skin was winter, white like Christmas snow and tinged with the Yule sunrise that colored him red with emotion.
It was ironic to him that the embodiment of the all he’d ever longed to see in existence was in this angel. The dream he’d yearned to live since waking beneath the Devil’s altar; to be human and live beneath a sky and not a ceiling of earth, to see the world ever changing around him, while God’s breathes and tears created sensation upon his skin…
It was all he wanted, it was everything to him…and now his last chance was growing cold at the feet of a weeping crucifix in Boston.
Everything was quiet before he realized his angel was kneeling over him, his hands on the hilt of the sword in his gut and eyes locked onto his…faltering.
“You’re crying,” he stated, as though afraid of his own words voicing something blasphemous.
The demon lifted a bloodstained hand from his wound to his face and felt evidence of this truth. Tears were indeed falling and he smiled, “I’ve…always wondered what that would be like.”
The angel stilled again and the demon felt the other’s indecision as tangibly as his body heat, which was so warm…his own dying body ached for it. “You’re a demon…demons don’t cry. Who are you?”
Who are you?
I wish I knew…
Darkening blue eyes found spring again and all at once he calmed and stared once more in wonder.
God so loved His angels that He gave them flesh when performing His will on earth. This body before him was beautiful, strong…and mortal…
The Devil so hated this world he gave his demons the power to invade and corrupt life. Any life.
This life.
His hand covered in tears and blood, his muscles straining to reach out and touch that flawless face (which surprisingly did not pull away) rested against the other’s cheek and for the first time in his life…there was peace.
And a jealousy that would cower the Devil himself.
“I am you.”
Claws erupted from his once human nails and latched into that angelic skin. The seraph gasped then screamed, but not even the burning holy water he bled could change the demon’s course, as he jerked the angel forward into a searing kiss. The demon’s free hand arrested the other’s arm but not before the sword was wretched from his mortal vessel and repositioned to stab his heart.
The blade never finished its purpose, as the angel was suddenly paralyzed - and no longer alone in its own mind.
The seraph shrieked and fell onto his back, crying out with only his echoes in the vaulted ceiling above to respond. He convulsed and seized, tearing at his own skin and demanding that this terrible darkness invading his soul leave. He could feel inhuman hands wrapping around his heart, digging talons into the muscle and now controlling each beat on a whim. It was through these means that he felt himself growing weaker and weaker. He could hear the beats in his head becoming lethargic…and finally stopping.
He stared unseeingly up at the night sky through stained glass…stagnant…and cold.
The first thump was faint; the second was just as so…then a third and soon a steady succession. His eyes blinked once…twice…then opened fully and he could see St. Peter’s likeness staring back. The church was so quiet but for his heart beat and soon the clink of his armor, as he pushed himself up and sat back on his haunches. He looked at his hands, turning them over and back, seeing them barely soiled and…so much smaller than his last.
As he stood, he looked down at his growing shadow in the candlelight and a smile spread across his face.
“Arthur…that’s your name, right?” he whispered to the darkness and beheld the twisted hybrid of his new feathered silhouette. “We’re beautiful together, you and I…the horns your halo rests upon look just right for you.”
~Fin~