Everything that is... [completed]
Character(s): Duma, Kyoko and Lucifer!
Content: Duma enters Paixao~
Setting: Vanaheim (F3)
Time: Tuesday morning
Warnings: Duma's naked but he's genderless so uhh... none? XD
Last thing he remembered was the strange patch of greenery; the green a strange sort of relief from all the red, orange and brown of Hell. Sometimes, when he gets fed up with all the screams of anguish and roars of maniacal laughter, he closes his eyes and remembers green things, beautiful and fertile forests nurturing all the creatures that reside among their leaves. He always knows when dreaming ends and reality begins, however, and he is sure that the patch of greenery splattered upon the strangely desolate hill is real.
He had hovered above the hill for quite some time before deciding that it would be best for him to come down and inspect the forest by himself. Landing gingerly on the outskirts of the forest, he spares no moment before quickly and yet gracefully walking into the comfortable darkness between the trees. Strangely, the forest seems like any other he had known on Earth and there were no demon, no soul of sinner, no one except for himself walking through the mysterious woods. Duma blinks his eyes once as he slows his steps down and looks around himself; the sickening orange of Hell cannot be seen through the foliage.
Duma's expression is unreadable as he continues his journey through the woods without glancing back even once. His partner might worry, but Remiel can manage Hell by himself in his absence so it would be alright for him to inspect this strange place for awhile. Duma's steps make no sound while the constant glow that emanates from within himself makes him seem like an exhausted traveler's hallucination rather than a real being walking through the woods.
After awhile, he finds himself looking up at two fruitful trees that seems to be a gate leading to a beautifully constructed Dome. While the gate is very tiny compared to the gates of Hell, it is nonetheless quite tall. Duma steps closer, eyeing a certain mortal who just walked away from a booth and into the domes. Perhaps there is a person behind the booth who could give him more information about this place?
He walks over to the booth, and before he could say anything, a gaunt fair-haired person yells out, "Name?" Looking deep into the person's eyes, Duma does not answer. The person's blank expression is changed very slightly as he sighs frustratedly and repeats his question, "what is your name, sir?" Duma's face is unreadable, but a slight amused smile can be seen as he elegantly takes the pen and paper from the gatekeeper and writes his own name down. The gatekeeper narrows his eyes, but takes back his pen and paper anyway, placing a white metal object on Duma's hand. "Right, I think white would suit you," gesturing towards the domes, "get in, I got others to tend to."
Another would have shrugged, but Duma simply leaves the booth and steps into the domes with the white metal object in his hand. He is unclothed save for the Key of Hell hanging around his neck. The key, gnarled and scorched, is a strange contrast to Duma's flawless skin and pearly wings.
Content: Duma enters Paixao~
Setting: Vanaheim (F3)
Time: Tuesday morning
Warnings: Duma's naked but he's genderless so uhh... none? XD
Last thing he remembered was the strange patch of greenery; the green a strange sort of relief from all the red, orange and brown of Hell. Sometimes, when he gets fed up with all the screams of anguish and roars of maniacal laughter, he closes his eyes and remembers green things, beautiful and fertile forests nurturing all the creatures that reside among their leaves. He always knows when dreaming ends and reality begins, however, and he is sure that the patch of greenery splattered upon the strangely desolate hill is real.
He had hovered above the hill for quite some time before deciding that it would be best for him to come down and inspect the forest by himself. Landing gingerly on the outskirts of the forest, he spares no moment before quickly and yet gracefully walking into the comfortable darkness between the trees. Strangely, the forest seems like any other he had known on Earth and there were no demon, no soul of sinner, no one except for himself walking through the mysterious woods. Duma blinks his eyes once as he slows his steps down and looks around himself; the sickening orange of Hell cannot be seen through the foliage.
Duma's expression is unreadable as he continues his journey through the woods without glancing back even once. His partner might worry, but Remiel can manage Hell by himself in his absence so it would be alright for him to inspect this strange place for awhile. Duma's steps make no sound while the constant glow that emanates from within himself makes him seem like an exhausted traveler's hallucination rather than a real being walking through the woods.
After awhile, he finds himself looking up at two fruitful trees that seems to be a gate leading to a beautifully constructed Dome. While the gate is very tiny compared to the gates of Hell, it is nonetheless quite tall. Duma steps closer, eyeing a certain mortal who just walked away from a booth and into the domes. Perhaps there is a person behind the booth who could give him more information about this place?
He walks over to the booth, and before he could say anything, a gaunt fair-haired person yells out, "Name?" Looking deep into the person's eyes, Duma does not answer. The person's blank expression is changed very slightly as he sighs frustratedly and repeats his question, "what is your name, sir?" Duma's face is unreadable, but a slight amused smile can be seen as he elegantly takes the pen and paper from the gatekeeper and writes his own name down. The gatekeeper narrows his eyes, but takes back his pen and paper anyway, placing a white metal object on Duma's hand. "Right, I think white would suit you," gesturing towards the domes, "get in, I got others to tend to."
Another would have shrugged, but Duma simply leaves the booth and steps into the domes with the white metal object in his hand. He is unclothed save for the Key of Hell hanging around his neck. The key, gnarled and scorched, is a strange contrast to Duma's flawless skin and pearly wings.