It's not that I'm a slacker
Hey! I've been...doing nothing. A lot of nothing. Not even writting. I don't have anything to report lifewise (I'm secretly very boring and predicatable).
It's that...well, I'm a slacker. Heh...I'm a bad person I know. Lately I've been tying to work on my three original fics but I've found I don't really like where they're headed. Too light and fluffy and for some strange reason that upsets me greatly. So I tried something a little more dark and gritty, not exactly a first since I do occasionally pull out some angsty one-shotters but in a general sense I'm more dark humor. Still I wanted to try something with my boys and so I have this...thing. Enjoy or...whatever.
Solace
I do own. Funny isn’t it.
Author: Dimitri Aidan, once again indulging his short attention span
Series: Erhm. Kind of.
Dedicated to: Mechante, who follows me in spite of my short attention span, tendency to wander away from stories, and general strangeness. I thought you might appreciate a little Sage/Blair fix, even if Sage is a jaded cop and Blair is just…screwed up.
Rating: Hard R or NC-17.
Warnings: Ohhh…lesse. Slavery, prostitution, bloodletting, mild incest, rape/non-consensual sex, semi-graphic drug use, death, blood, vampirism, mysticism…just a lot of crap thrown into a blender.
Summery: Lost Angels is a city on the brink of destruction. Blair is a strung out half-breed. Kilroy is seeking redemption in a place that offers none, drawn to a hopeless ‘Twixt who wants nothing more than to shatter his world. As things spiral out of control they fall into place.
Notes: I was in the mood for something a little grittier and darker than usual, but still with my two favorite boys and their myriad of poorly adjusted cohorts.
I also have a handy little key at the bottom for you, though I do explain some things in the text.
0000000000000000
Chapter One
Precious Illusions
0000000000000000
Lost Angels was once a great city, destroyed in the great quakes that had marked the end of the before time and the beginning of the new time. It was rebuilt with temples and statues in the images of The Fallen of Hell, great and terrible creatures who looked down upon its human inhabitants. Now, in the year NT1035 it was a shadow of its former self. While there were still places where the rich thrived in the favor of their lords, there were places where scum slept and grew and hungered. Drugs flowed easily and people sold their very lives to the highest bidder and would happily kill one another for a taste of artificial happiness.
He had lived here his entire life; from the moment of conception to the moment he died he was sure. He was a ‘Twixt, a Half-breed, one of the damned. His father had been a Fallen and his mother a whore who’d been desperate for a touch of Hell.
Blair harbored no delusions about his mother, she‘d been terrible to him and the only way anyone would recall her was as a whore. Iris had been beautiful and the world had stopped and stared as she passed through it, there was no doubting that, and the daughter of a very powerful man but had been a bastard in the most basic sense of the word. Her mother had been a maid in the household; cast out with a nice sum of money when she started to show and a promise to never return.
She’d been an outcast from the day she was born, the bane of her mother’s existence because she was the one thing keeping her from seeing her ’Love’ again, and kept her eyes trained on the sky. She dreamed of going to Heaven or Hell one day, the floating cities where the Angels and the Fallen resided, lording over the humans and allowing a select few to ascend when they proved themselves.
She was thrown from her mother’s home at eighteen and stumbled into Lost Angels City, which rested on the edge of the great Ocean. She was alone and innocent and easy prey for the dark things that lived there. Soon Crystal flowed through her veins like blood and her eyes shimmered in the lights of the floating cities she’d once longed to be apart of. She became one of the dark things, dirty and ragged and willing to sell her very soul for another fix.
One night a Fallen descended into its long forgotten temple, where only the wasted and hopeless resided and found her. She gave herself over willingly and some time later bore a son. He was terrible to look at to her, a shadow of the dream she had lain with, and she had cut off the fragile wings that pierced his back as punishment.
While the humans and demons and various creatures of In Between worshipped the beings above them they also hated them and eyed them with jealously. They regarded the rare half-breed as something to be loathed and destroyed. In a strange way he owed his mother’s fit of rage for his life, for if he had carried those wings he would have been killed.
His mother had died eventually, falling into a Crystal Sleep and never awaking. He had seen her the next night, beautiful and terrible and screaming in pain as she reached for him. The dead flowed around him like water, clawing and demanding and there was only one way to dim their cries.
He stumbled into the temple he had holed up in, maybe the same as Iris, and withdrew the needle he’d procured from a sleeping junkie. In his other pocket was a bottle full of liquid Glitter, the most beautiful thing in the world. He filled the syringe with practiced ease and found the by now familiar spot.
There was a prick and then a burning spread through his body, rushing through him like a wildfire, chasing away the murky waters of the dead. He sighed, curling into himself and let the burning haze fall over him.
It was so beautiful.
He almost didn’t hear the soft footsteps as they approached him. He cracked open a watery eye to watch the tall lean figure stalk closer to him. Death clung to the form, weaving around him in wisps of purple smoke. He paused at Blair, black eyes staring down at him.
Blair closed his eyes, falling back into the fire.
00000000
It was funny, in an ironic sort of way, that they called this place Eden. It had been a part of Lost Angels, thriving and perfect when first constructed and now a hellhole. Detective Sage Kilroy probably had a thousand better things to be doing with his time. There was no helping this place, not really.
The statues of the Fallen now laid broken, the faces rubble from where they’d been broken away and the wings on the ground, spread open in some obscene show. They no longer held the images of their lords in their minds, having destroyed and damned them long ago. The buildings that had once been gleaming promises of rewards if they lead a good life and were chosen had windows broken and doors on their hinges, gaping reminders of what could have been. The temples were now places of business for junkies and whores. There was only darkness in Eden, for when the sun rose it froze and nothing stirred save the wind. Here is where the dead lined up to finally die.
Even vampires wouldn’t lurk here anymore.
His time would be better spend in Avalon, where there was still the hope of beating back the tide of corruption and decay. Avalon was where the kids scoring their first hit dwelled, Glitter and ‘Tween were manufactured, and things were still standing. He and his force lived in Avalon, Lost Angels elite answering to the growing problems in the city.
They foolishly hoped if they fixed things they might gain admittance into Hell and that their Fallen would continue to smile upon them. Kilroy knew better, knew that nothing lurked beyond the veil but death and that the Fallen had no interest in them as anything except toys.
Kilroy was…hurting. A sell gone wrong had gotten Eva, an Empath and good friend of his, killed. She’d run a bar in Avalon with her boyfriend Chase and though he knew drugs were sometimes circulated inside he let it slide because she was good to him no matter what.
He should have known better. Her blood was on his hands. He could still see her lifeless green eyes, starring forever into nothingness as her blood pooled around her head from the gaping wound in her neck. Her killer had almost taken her head clean off when he slit her throat. She’d died quickly, faring better than Chase who’d been found with more of his insides outside than in but still breathing.
Kilroy suspected that an Eater had been involved. Eaters were like empaths, in a twisted fashion only they climbed into their victims head and pulled the worst feelings and emotions to the surface, trapping their victim in an endless loop and feed on the ensuing collapse. Those who lived suffered, feeling unclean and vulnerable, worse off than rape victims in some ways.
He could count on one hand the number of people who had survived and hadn’t killed themselves. One was agoraphobic and the other was hardly worth mentioning.
Ashley Alvers, his second in command and admitted asshole had suggested, in a rare display of humanity, that he take a few days off to cope. He’d blown Ash off, deciding to just wander around Lost Angels and try to…well, he didn’t know really. Something.
And so here he was, in Eden. He walked the filth littered streets, hands deep within the pockets of his duster. He, trained to move with shadows so as not to be noticed, stayed carefully in the middle of the road; the only place where it seemed light was brave enough to touch. One didn’t tarry lightly into the shadows of Eden if they wanted to live. He could see them, the demons and the drug addicts and the whores watching him.
He pulled his coat a bit tighter. Legend had it that once, before in the Old Times and before the Splitting, that the island of Fornia was part of the Crytic Nation, a place where the sun would shine and blue oceans lapped against the beaches. But, after the Fourth World War, which had caused the quakes, and Splitting, much of Fornia was covered in a never-ending winter. Nuclear Winter was what Sage thought the ’scientific’ term was but science didn’t hold much sway here anymore. Once all of the races had been exposed and Angels and Fallen took over the world hadn’t had much need of technology beyond what they already had.
Only the most powerful and rich of Fornia’s population could live there, the Lords and Ladies of the MacAbron and Cassidy clans mostly, two families made of Mages, Witches, Necromancers, and Twixts. Most who dared to venture into Paradise died, if not from the very toxic nature of the air then killed by the families.
Lost Angels was bitterly cold almost all year round even though they were at the southern-most tip of Fornia. During the summer however the weather could become almost…pleasant, with mild days and nights. You could see into the churning black-red sea for miles and almost make out the coast of Crytic if your eyes were could enough.
Things across Deep Sea were supposed to be better but Kilroy doubted it. So Crytic was bigger and the winter there was said to be less harsh, the crime less fierce. They existed not under Heaven and Hell but Eternity, where the very Gods that made the Angels and Fallen were told to live.
A low shriek ahead of him broke him from his thoughts and slowly he came to a halt. Down the steps of one of the temples, the one long ago dedicated to Lord Azrael, a figure tumbled. Pale blond hair, long and tangled, caught the red rays of the sun and seemed to gleam. The body didn’t move and Kilroy would have thought they were dead if not for the hazy life aura around the person, like a weak flickering yellow flame.
Another person came following a moment later, tall and solidly built with tanned skin and short black hair. An aura of blue surrounded him but it was far from the peacefulness Kilroy usually associated with such people, it jumped and twisted violently about the man. A foot caught the figure on the ground, prompting them to rise to all fours and start to crawl away. Another booted foot to the back stopped all attempts to escape, even as fingers clawed at the street uselessly.
Kilroy knew it was about time to turn and walk away from this. It wasn’t his job to try and protect those of Eden; there was no helping them. If one prostitute or junkie was roughed up or killed it was no business of his because there would be another half-dozen by morning. There was no saving these people and the longer he stood the more chance he himself would come to be in trouble. He didn’t have any back up and he’d left his phone in his car, which was back where Avalon met Eden.
It wasn‘t that he was a good person, because he wasn‘t. Maybe once he was, but he wasn’t anymore. He watched people die everyday and it wasn’t his business. But he found he’d already decided he couldn’t watch this before he knew he had. His gun was in his hands, familiar weight gone from his waist in a second, and two shots rang out.
Blood, red and slippery, hit the snow before the body did and he felt the life force rush over him, pricking his skin with its energy as it was released from the body. He shivered, the energy seeping into him and giving him a boost he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He let out a breath then started towards the body, gun finding its place in the holster without a thought. He kicked the now dead man over onto his back, eyes darting to the guns he had fixed in a back holster and the long knife strapped to his hip.
A piece of paper was peeking from the inside jacket pocket and he took it out, eyebrow arching slightly at the Cassidy seal in black wax on the outside of the envelope. He stuffed it into his own pocket for later inspection and then turned to the victim, who was making soft wheezing sounds as he tried, unsuccessfully, to rise to his knees.
Kilroy reached out but a hand went up and slapped his own away as the victim looked up. Kilroy found himself letting out a soft gasp as the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen locked onto his own: wide and surrounded by translucent lashes the color of Deep Sea stared out at him, red swirling with black. Golden-red strands of hair, matted with dirt and blood, clinging to milk pale skin that was marred with cuts and bruises.
He wasn’t breathing. He knew he wasn’t and whatever air he had felt like it was being forced out of him as a lightheaded feeling was coming over him but he really didn’t care. The man stared at him for a moment then lips crushed against Kilroy’s and he could taste blood, feel teeth against his lips, against his teeth pressing into him almost painfully but his body tingled all over and he found himself kissing back and holding onto thin hips while pulling the man closer.
Just as it started it was over and he simply had his arms full of limp body. His hands were slick and a look down showed thick black on them and slowly staining the white shirt the man was wearing.
Blood.
Kilroy looked around, frowning. He was going to get out of here quickly because the scent of fresh blood would bring enough the creatures that despised the daylight out looking for an easy meal. He should just leave the man, he was wounded and since he couldn’t say how badly he had to assume the worst. An unnecessary risk.
He stood, carrying the thin form easily and started walking back the way he’d come, glancing upwards as a shadow fell over him. Heaven was passing over the sky, which meant that night would be falling soon.
000000000
1) NT: New Times (3476 AD to present)
2) OT: Old Times (0 AD to 3471 AD, when WW4 began.)
3) ‘Twixt: A race of people borne from the union of Angels or Fallen with humans of the Magick wielding nature. Humans who don’t wield Magick don’t even register on the radar of Angel or Fallen.
4) Angels: ‘Holy’ all powerful creatures who rule in Heaven; they seem to value life and birth above all else and often take on the appearance of benevolent loving beings. They come in a few varieties: Guardian, Warrior, and Royal. Characterized by large white, silver, or gray wings, blond hair or brown hair, and unmistakable beauty.
5) Fallen: Darker more bloodthirsty than their Angelic counterparts, the Fallen rule in Hell and revel in death and pain. They only come in one form and are characterized by large wings, either of skin like a bat or gray/black in color, claw like fingers and toes, sharp fang-like teeth, black or red hair, and very pale skin.
6) Empath: One who feels the emotions of others and, depending on their level, may be able to influence the feelings and actions of those around them. Useful in drug trade and as prostitutes, also known as Incubi and Succubae.
7) Eater: An Empath who feeds on negative emotions, essentially raping a person’s mind and feeding off of the negativity emotions they release. The victim usually dies, the body giving out. Those that survive usually kill themselves or go into a cationic state. Also called Psychic Vampires. They often ally with flesh eating demons such as zombies.
8) Mages: Magick users that are dependent upon the elements for their power. Most draw power in one of six areas (Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Death, Spirit) but those of great power and breeding may be able to tap into two or three.
9) Witches: Very powerful Earth Mages who can draw power from all living things. They use rituals and spells to focus power and commune with Angels, who favor witches above all else. They usually have less impressive power in one or two (sometimes three) other elements.
10) Necromancers: Powerful Death/Spirit Mages who can speak with spirits, reanimate the dead, and have a measure of control over vampires who are made, not born. They commune with Fallen, who favor them above all else. They, like witches, can often wield one or two other elements.
It's that...well, I'm a slacker. Heh...I'm a bad person I know. Lately I've been tying to work on my three original fics but I've found I don't really like where they're headed. Too light and fluffy and for some strange reason that upsets me greatly. So I tried something a little more dark and gritty, not exactly a first since I do occasionally pull out some angsty one-shotters but in a general sense I'm more dark humor. Still I wanted to try something with my boys and so I have this...thing. Enjoy or...whatever.
Solace
I do own. Funny isn’t it.
Author: Dimitri Aidan, once again indulging his short attention span
Series: Erhm. Kind of.
Dedicated to: Mechante, who follows me in spite of my short attention span, tendency to wander away from stories, and general strangeness. I thought you might appreciate a little Sage/Blair fix, even if Sage is a jaded cop and Blair is just…screwed up.
Rating: Hard R or NC-17.
Warnings: Ohhh…lesse. Slavery, prostitution, bloodletting, mild incest, rape/non-consensual sex, semi-graphic drug use, death, blood, vampirism, mysticism…just a lot of crap thrown into a blender.
Summery: Lost Angels is a city on the brink of destruction. Blair is a strung out half-breed. Kilroy is seeking redemption in a place that offers none, drawn to a hopeless ‘Twixt who wants nothing more than to shatter his world. As things spiral out of control they fall into place.
Notes: I was in the mood for something a little grittier and darker than usual, but still with my two favorite boys and their myriad of poorly adjusted cohorts.
I also have a handy little key at the bottom for you, though I do explain some things in the text.
0000000000000000
Chapter One
Precious Illusions
0000000000000000
Lost Angels was once a great city, destroyed in the great quakes that had marked the end of the before time and the beginning of the new time. It was rebuilt with temples and statues in the images of The Fallen of Hell, great and terrible creatures who looked down upon its human inhabitants. Now, in the year NT1035 it was a shadow of its former self. While there were still places where the rich thrived in the favor of their lords, there were places where scum slept and grew and hungered. Drugs flowed easily and people sold their very lives to the highest bidder and would happily kill one another for a taste of artificial happiness.
He had lived here his entire life; from the moment of conception to the moment he died he was sure. He was a ‘Twixt, a Half-breed, one of the damned. His father had been a Fallen and his mother a whore who’d been desperate for a touch of Hell.
Blair harbored no delusions about his mother, she‘d been terrible to him and the only way anyone would recall her was as a whore. Iris had been beautiful and the world had stopped and stared as she passed through it, there was no doubting that, and the daughter of a very powerful man but had been a bastard in the most basic sense of the word. Her mother had been a maid in the household; cast out with a nice sum of money when she started to show and a promise to never return.
She’d been an outcast from the day she was born, the bane of her mother’s existence because she was the one thing keeping her from seeing her ’Love’ again, and kept her eyes trained on the sky. She dreamed of going to Heaven or Hell one day, the floating cities where the Angels and the Fallen resided, lording over the humans and allowing a select few to ascend when they proved themselves.
She was thrown from her mother’s home at eighteen and stumbled into Lost Angels City, which rested on the edge of the great Ocean. She was alone and innocent and easy prey for the dark things that lived there. Soon Crystal flowed through her veins like blood and her eyes shimmered in the lights of the floating cities she’d once longed to be apart of. She became one of the dark things, dirty and ragged and willing to sell her very soul for another fix.
One night a Fallen descended into its long forgotten temple, where only the wasted and hopeless resided and found her. She gave herself over willingly and some time later bore a son. He was terrible to look at to her, a shadow of the dream she had lain with, and she had cut off the fragile wings that pierced his back as punishment.
While the humans and demons and various creatures of In Between worshipped the beings above them they also hated them and eyed them with jealously. They regarded the rare half-breed as something to be loathed and destroyed. In a strange way he owed his mother’s fit of rage for his life, for if he had carried those wings he would have been killed.
His mother had died eventually, falling into a Crystal Sleep and never awaking. He had seen her the next night, beautiful and terrible and screaming in pain as she reached for him. The dead flowed around him like water, clawing and demanding and there was only one way to dim their cries.
He stumbled into the temple he had holed up in, maybe the same as Iris, and withdrew the needle he’d procured from a sleeping junkie. In his other pocket was a bottle full of liquid Glitter, the most beautiful thing in the world. He filled the syringe with practiced ease and found the by now familiar spot.
There was a prick and then a burning spread through his body, rushing through him like a wildfire, chasing away the murky waters of the dead. He sighed, curling into himself and let the burning haze fall over him.
It was so beautiful.
He almost didn’t hear the soft footsteps as they approached him. He cracked open a watery eye to watch the tall lean figure stalk closer to him. Death clung to the form, weaving around him in wisps of purple smoke. He paused at Blair, black eyes staring down at him.
Blair closed his eyes, falling back into the fire.
00000000
It was funny, in an ironic sort of way, that they called this place Eden. It had been a part of Lost Angels, thriving and perfect when first constructed and now a hellhole. Detective Sage Kilroy probably had a thousand better things to be doing with his time. There was no helping this place, not really.
The statues of the Fallen now laid broken, the faces rubble from where they’d been broken away and the wings on the ground, spread open in some obscene show. They no longer held the images of their lords in their minds, having destroyed and damned them long ago. The buildings that had once been gleaming promises of rewards if they lead a good life and were chosen had windows broken and doors on their hinges, gaping reminders of what could have been. The temples were now places of business for junkies and whores. There was only darkness in Eden, for when the sun rose it froze and nothing stirred save the wind. Here is where the dead lined up to finally die.
Even vampires wouldn’t lurk here anymore.
His time would be better spend in Avalon, where there was still the hope of beating back the tide of corruption and decay. Avalon was where the kids scoring their first hit dwelled, Glitter and ‘Tween were manufactured, and things were still standing. He and his force lived in Avalon, Lost Angels elite answering to the growing problems in the city.
They foolishly hoped if they fixed things they might gain admittance into Hell and that their Fallen would continue to smile upon them. Kilroy knew better, knew that nothing lurked beyond the veil but death and that the Fallen had no interest in them as anything except toys.
Kilroy was…hurting. A sell gone wrong had gotten Eva, an Empath and good friend of his, killed. She’d run a bar in Avalon with her boyfriend Chase and though he knew drugs were sometimes circulated inside he let it slide because she was good to him no matter what.
He should have known better. Her blood was on his hands. He could still see her lifeless green eyes, starring forever into nothingness as her blood pooled around her head from the gaping wound in her neck. Her killer had almost taken her head clean off when he slit her throat. She’d died quickly, faring better than Chase who’d been found with more of his insides outside than in but still breathing.
Kilroy suspected that an Eater had been involved. Eaters were like empaths, in a twisted fashion only they climbed into their victims head and pulled the worst feelings and emotions to the surface, trapping their victim in an endless loop and feed on the ensuing collapse. Those who lived suffered, feeling unclean and vulnerable, worse off than rape victims in some ways.
He could count on one hand the number of people who had survived and hadn’t killed themselves. One was agoraphobic and the other was hardly worth mentioning.
Ashley Alvers, his second in command and admitted asshole had suggested, in a rare display of humanity, that he take a few days off to cope. He’d blown Ash off, deciding to just wander around Lost Angels and try to…well, he didn’t know really. Something.
And so here he was, in Eden. He walked the filth littered streets, hands deep within the pockets of his duster. He, trained to move with shadows so as not to be noticed, stayed carefully in the middle of the road; the only place where it seemed light was brave enough to touch. One didn’t tarry lightly into the shadows of Eden if they wanted to live. He could see them, the demons and the drug addicts and the whores watching him.
He pulled his coat a bit tighter. Legend had it that once, before in the Old Times and before the Splitting, that the island of Fornia was part of the Crytic Nation, a place where the sun would shine and blue oceans lapped against the beaches. But, after the Fourth World War, which had caused the quakes, and Splitting, much of Fornia was covered in a never-ending winter. Nuclear Winter was what Sage thought the ’scientific’ term was but science didn’t hold much sway here anymore. Once all of the races had been exposed and Angels and Fallen took over the world hadn’t had much need of technology beyond what they already had.
Only the most powerful and rich of Fornia’s population could live there, the Lords and Ladies of the MacAbron and Cassidy clans mostly, two families made of Mages, Witches, Necromancers, and Twixts. Most who dared to venture into Paradise died, if not from the very toxic nature of the air then killed by the families.
Lost Angels was bitterly cold almost all year round even though they were at the southern-most tip of Fornia. During the summer however the weather could become almost…pleasant, with mild days and nights. You could see into the churning black-red sea for miles and almost make out the coast of Crytic if your eyes were could enough.
Things across Deep Sea were supposed to be better but Kilroy doubted it. So Crytic was bigger and the winter there was said to be less harsh, the crime less fierce. They existed not under Heaven and Hell but Eternity, where the very Gods that made the Angels and Fallen were told to live.
A low shriek ahead of him broke him from his thoughts and slowly he came to a halt. Down the steps of one of the temples, the one long ago dedicated to Lord Azrael, a figure tumbled. Pale blond hair, long and tangled, caught the red rays of the sun and seemed to gleam. The body didn’t move and Kilroy would have thought they were dead if not for the hazy life aura around the person, like a weak flickering yellow flame.
Another person came following a moment later, tall and solidly built with tanned skin and short black hair. An aura of blue surrounded him but it was far from the peacefulness Kilroy usually associated with such people, it jumped and twisted violently about the man. A foot caught the figure on the ground, prompting them to rise to all fours and start to crawl away. Another booted foot to the back stopped all attempts to escape, even as fingers clawed at the street uselessly.
Kilroy knew it was about time to turn and walk away from this. It wasn’t his job to try and protect those of Eden; there was no helping them. If one prostitute or junkie was roughed up or killed it was no business of his because there would be another half-dozen by morning. There was no saving these people and the longer he stood the more chance he himself would come to be in trouble. He didn’t have any back up and he’d left his phone in his car, which was back where Avalon met Eden.
It wasn‘t that he was a good person, because he wasn‘t. Maybe once he was, but he wasn’t anymore. He watched people die everyday and it wasn’t his business. But he found he’d already decided he couldn’t watch this before he knew he had. His gun was in his hands, familiar weight gone from his waist in a second, and two shots rang out.
Blood, red and slippery, hit the snow before the body did and he felt the life force rush over him, pricking his skin with its energy as it was released from the body. He shivered, the energy seeping into him and giving him a boost he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He let out a breath then started towards the body, gun finding its place in the holster without a thought. He kicked the now dead man over onto his back, eyes darting to the guns he had fixed in a back holster and the long knife strapped to his hip.
A piece of paper was peeking from the inside jacket pocket and he took it out, eyebrow arching slightly at the Cassidy seal in black wax on the outside of the envelope. He stuffed it into his own pocket for later inspection and then turned to the victim, who was making soft wheezing sounds as he tried, unsuccessfully, to rise to his knees.
Kilroy reached out but a hand went up and slapped his own away as the victim looked up. Kilroy found himself letting out a soft gasp as the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen locked onto his own: wide and surrounded by translucent lashes the color of Deep Sea stared out at him, red swirling with black. Golden-red strands of hair, matted with dirt and blood, clinging to milk pale skin that was marred with cuts and bruises.
He wasn’t breathing. He knew he wasn’t and whatever air he had felt like it was being forced out of him as a lightheaded feeling was coming over him but he really didn’t care. The man stared at him for a moment then lips crushed against Kilroy’s and he could taste blood, feel teeth against his lips, against his teeth pressing into him almost painfully but his body tingled all over and he found himself kissing back and holding onto thin hips while pulling the man closer.
Just as it started it was over and he simply had his arms full of limp body. His hands were slick and a look down showed thick black on them and slowly staining the white shirt the man was wearing.
Blood.
Kilroy looked around, frowning. He was going to get out of here quickly because the scent of fresh blood would bring enough the creatures that despised the daylight out looking for an easy meal. He should just leave the man, he was wounded and since he couldn’t say how badly he had to assume the worst. An unnecessary risk.
He stood, carrying the thin form easily and started walking back the way he’d come, glancing upwards as a shadow fell over him. Heaven was passing over the sky, which meant that night would be falling soon.
000000000
1) NT: New Times (3476 AD to present)
2) OT: Old Times (0 AD to 3471 AD, when WW4 began.)
3) ‘Twixt: A race of people borne from the union of Angels or Fallen with humans of the Magick wielding nature. Humans who don’t wield Magick don’t even register on the radar of Angel or Fallen.
4) Angels: ‘Holy’ all powerful creatures who rule in Heaven; they seem to value life and birth above all else and often take on the appearance of benevolent loving beings. They come in a few varieties: Guardian, Warrior, and Royal. Characterized by large white, silver, or gray wings, blond hair or brown hair, and unmistakable beauty.
5) Fallen: Darker more bloodthirsty than their Angelic counterparts, the Fallen rule in Hell and revel in death and pain. They only come in one form and are characterized by large wings, either of skin like a bat or gray/black in color, claw like fingers and toes, sharp fang-like teeth, black or red hair, and very pale skin.
6) Empath: One who feels the emotions of others and, depending on their level, may be able to influence the feelings and actions of those around them. Useful in drug trade and as prostitutes, also known as Incubi and Succubae.
7) Eater: An Empath who feeds on negative emotions, essentially raping a person’s mind and feeding off of the negativity emotions they release. The victim usually dies, the body giving out. Those that survive usually kill themselves or go into a cationic state. Also called Psychic Vampires. They often ally with flesh eating demons such as zombies.
8) Mages: Magick users that are dependent upon the elements for their power. Most draw power in one of six areas (Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Death, Spirit) but those of great power and breeding may be able to tap into two or three.
9) Witches: Very powerful Earth Mages who can draw power from all living things. They use rituals and spells to focus power and commune with Angels, who favor witches above all else. They usually have less impressive power in one or two (sometimes three) other elements.
10) Necromancers: Powerful Death/Spirit Mages who can speak with spirits, reanimate the dead, and have a measure of control over vampires who are made, not born. They commune with Fallen, who favor them above all else. They, like witches, can often wield one or two other elements.