(no subject)
Inside, Belial was quiet.
On one hand, it was a relief. It meant that Ivan didn't have to deal with the constant nagging and forceful influence of the demon. It meant that he didn't have to face the pressure threefold. At least, that's how he wanted to feel. However, the sensation of being relieved of his "worser" half was hardly a feeling of relief. Ivan was finding himself lost in all the definitions of the word. The guttural sense of hopelessness was gripping him tightly, and it wasn't exactly something he was used to. Usually, Belial's presence would dampen the effect. But it seemed given their current predicament, neither of them had an explanation for what was going on.
Ivan was slowly making his way through Grant Park, gaping about his surroundings. The awe he felt was of course, only temporary, that would soon be overcome with frustration, confusion, and then, rage. In fact, the confusion was already kicking in, full-force. The unfamiliar buildings, monstrous in their size, the strange attire, the constant sounds of revving engines and beeping horns. The thick scent of gasoline was also odd and certainly notable. None of this was recognizable, nor was it ordinary. And Ivan wasn't somebody who would eagerly label anything as "un-ordinary" as that was the very nature of his life. But it was something else entirely when the very demon inside of him was wordless.
"Useless wretch," he muttered under his breath, half-daring the demon to speak up. Belial wasn't absent. He was probably in shock as well, but for Ivan, that was unacceptable. "And of course, it is in the most dire of times in which you abandon me," he grunted in frustration, quickening his pace through the park. "Familiar, isn't it?"
Don't you dare compare me to *that*, Ivan.
--came the sullen reply. Finally.
Though, to any onlookers, the other voice wouldn't be heard. This whole charade would come off as nothing more than a crazy person (dressed like they were plucked right out of a John Wayne film) openly talking to himself.
On one hand, it was a relief. It meant that Ivan didn't have to deal with the constant nagging and forceful influence of the demon. It meant that he didn't have to face the pressure threefold. At least, that's how he wanted to feel. However, the sensation of being relieved of his "worser" half was hardly a feeling of relief. Ivan was finding himself lost in all the definitions of the word. The guttural sense of hopelessness was gripping him tightly, and it wasn't exactly something he was used to. Usually, Belial's presence would dampen the effect. But it seemed given their current predicament, neither of them had an explanation for what was going on.
Ivan was slowly making his way through Grant Park, gaping about his surroundings. The awe he felt was of course, only temporary, that would soon be overcome with frustration, confusion, and then, rage. In fact, the confusion was already kicking in, full-force. The unfamiliar buildings, monstrous in their size, the strange attire, the constant sounds of revving engines and beeping horns. The thick scent of gasoline was also odd and certainly notable. None of this was recognizable, nor was it ordinary. And Ivan wasn't somebody who would eagerly label anything as "un-ordinary" as that was the very nature of his life. But it was something else entirely when the very demon inside of him was wordless.
"Useless wretch," he muttered under his breath, half-daring the demon to speak up. Belial wasn't absent. He was probably in shock as well, but for Ivan, that was unacceptable. "And of course, it is in the most dire of times in which you abandon me," he grunted in frustration, quickening his pace through the park. "Familiar, isn't it?"
Don't you dare compare me to *that*, Ivan.
--came the sullen reply. Finally.
Though, to any onlookers, the other voice wouldn't be heard. This whole charade would come off as nothing more than a crazy person (dressed like they were plucked right out of a John Wayne film) openly talking to himself.