greed.

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain swallows and rolls his neck as she talks. His head cranes back, staring at the ceiling while he breathes heavily though his nose. That feeling in his chest, the one he can’t name or recognize, it happens every time she looks like she’s going to cry. Every time she makes a noise of pain. Every time she’s upset. Ghislain slumps back to the floor, turning so his back is against the smooth stone of the area the tub is built in to. 

“Bad memories. You brought up bad memories,” Gizmo muttered, back to her now. The angel needed to know what she did to put her poor panicked mind to some sort of rest. She’s just to innocent. It’s weird and he doesn’t know how to handle her either, so she can’t be blamed there. “It was a long time ago. I try to forget every day.” The way his head hangs, the slight slump to his shoulder, his frigid tone; they all add up to betray one thing: He’s bad at forgetting. Ghislain turns his head, chin bumping his shoulder as he addresses her out of his peripheral. “Just sit back before you hurt yourself more, alright?” 

[avaruswilliam]

When she got her answer, she made a mental note of everything she had said and swore to try her hardest never to say any of it again. Even if her stay with Ghislain would be short and even if he was of a species that was supposed to be her eternal enemy, she didn’t want to cause him any pain. He was too tender, too vulnerable for her to believe that there was no light left in him and if there was even a sliver of a heart beating in his chest, she would do her best to keep it from aching.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Though she said it a lot, the words were never anything less than genuine. She meant her apologies from the bottom of her heart. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can...once I heal, I could take those memories from you, if you want? But it would be permanent. I don’t think I-I could ever bring them back.” It was a strange part of being an angel, perhaps, but she understood how taking some memories from people could ease their suffering. “I’m f-fine,” she lied terribly. “I’m more worried about you.”

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain never stopped to think about it, but yes, like a human he does have free will. No one has ever showed up at his door to stop or instruct him. No demon has told him they haven’t seen him at the meetings lately. At points he’s lived a semi-normal life. Look at the room around them. It’s his bathroom in his apartment where he lives while teaching at a college. That’s pretty damn normal.

Virginia mentions his ‘path’ and Ghislain’s face grows cold, colder than it’s been since she’s seen him this time around. He was doing so well, not thinking about Noel, not thinking about the clan or the blood letting or the war or the heartbreak that turned him into this. But here sits a reminder of the odd, naive young boy he was before it all, and it’s impossible to forget. Ghislain pulls his arm from the water, done with most of the lavender just as he’s done with this conversation. 

The wall he’s put up is nearly tangible in his voice, his disposition as he speaks, “I don’t know the science behind how angels get and maintain their power, but if it’s anything similar to beings I’ve met, these ingredients will help. Do you need anything else?” Distant. That’s the word. Distant, is what he is, and it looks like he’s about to stand up to leave. 

[avaruswilliam]

As the light left Ghislain’s face, panic replaced the confusion on Virginia’s. There were walls between them now, built by something she didn’t know and certainly hadn’t intended to trigger. She only meant to express her genuine hope that she had done something good while she was alive, especially if that goodness had been directed towards the man in front of her now. Clearly, she had done enough to be memorable, but without any knowledge of those things, she was forced to rely on his words alone.

She listened to his tone with trepidation, not missing the way his body moved away from her as if she was suddenly the enemy. For a moment, she debated what it was that she needed before realizing she needed some relief to the guilty ache in her heart that his reaction had caused. 

“I-I’m sorry. Whatever I said wrong, I’m sorry. If I insulted you or brought up bad memories o-or...or anything at all, I’m sorry.” She shifted in the water, sitting up with the support of the edge of the tub and an agonized whimper. “I don’t always know what I’m saying, I think, and you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, so I don’t know...how to talk to you without upsetting you. Please don’t be upset. Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry.”

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain tilts his head back towards her when he realizes she’s crying. No, no, no, no. That’s not right. He didn’t even /want/ to make her cry. If he’s going to make someone cry, it’s going to be because he fuckin’ meant to. Gizmo shakes his head left and right a few times, elbow splashing in the water with his urgency to backpedal. Before he speaks, she explains herself, and a look of shock appears on his face. 

Quickly wiping his face of the betraying look he furrows his brows and meets her eyes. “They just take it from you? That’s bullshit.” Ghislain doesn’t know why he’s so passionate about this, or why it burns inside him. It may be because it’s such a pretentious asshole angel thing to do. It may be because she looks so innocent and small in the deep tub with her broken body and big sad eyes. Either way it rubs him the wrong way. Quietly he adds, because apparently he just has to tell the truth around Virginia. “You were nice to me.” 

[avaruswilliam]

One thing that angels were supposed to never do was to question that which Heaven dictated. If those in command said that they were to fight, then they would fight. If they were told to stay silent, they did, and if they were made to forget all that they once held dear, then they were meant to do so without hesitation or reservation. Standing up against Michael and Gabriel with the support of her entire garrison had been the first time that Virginia rebelled in the centuries that she had been an angel.

“It’s not...It makes sense. Demons can pursue a normal life, if you want. C-correct me if I’m wrong, but you have free will, just as humans do. Angels are servants of God. We can’t be tempted to go chasing after things that...that we can never have.” Of course, perhaps that was different for an angel exiled as she was. “I hope that I was kind to you. I hope that my presence could bring you some joy, even if it wasn’t enough to keep you from the dark path that turned you into what you are.”

[matthew715-blog]

“Sister Virginia Delacroix. You liked buttercups. Les petits boutons d'or. And I planted them outside the Cloister.” The information comes back almost against his will, tumbling as quick and sure as rain in April. She told him she liked the little yellow flowers he planted, so he grew more outside the cloister’s windows. Polite and quiet, shorter than he was yet older. She liked the buttercups. 

Ghislain’s stare breaks as he blinks rapidly a few times, nodding. “I remember you. Your face,” Ghislain’s hands stilled as he studied her more. She doesn’t… she’s tearful but not agreeing, no recognition in her eyes. There’s no way she could be anyone else. “Over four hundred years have passed and now you’re in my bath–” It’s like he’s realized all over again that she’s naked. A nun from priest school is naked in his tub. His gaze has never averted so quickly. The sink is very interesting. 

[avaruswilliam]

Virginia’s mind swam with more confusion and the ache of not knowing, a feeling she recognized but was far from familiar with. Only a few times had it ever been triggered, always by small, seemingly mundane things and never to the extent she felt as he spoke about the buttercups. It was like being on the other side of unbreakable glass, pounding and screaming to try and reach whatever it was that she couldn’t have. 

The timeline fit and there was no denying that something was being triggered by his words, but she couldn’t find any of the answers inside of herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.” There was a long pause, an internal debate before she spoke again. “You could be right but...angels never remember their human lives. As soon as we ascend, those memories are taken from us to keep us from trying to reclaim that life. I know nothing about who I used to be.”

[matthew715-blog]

At the mention of heaven Ghislain finally looks up to meet her eyes. His hands don’t stop because the lavender will help, but something in him stills. The angel in his tub looks familiar. Over four hundred years of memory to go through was a lot, though. Also that bit about actual heaven. Like as a real place. That’s interesting and… it gets heavier each time he realizes life isn’t a game. 

“Yes,” he answers, despite the fact he… didn’t let many people up there. “Yeah. Once you’re better, you can go up there.” Absently, Gizmo dips his hand into the warm water, staying respectfully away from any part of her skin. He swirls the petals in some, eyes drifting over her face as his thoughts wonder back.

He used to tend the garden. When the weather started to turn pleasant and it came time, he always found himself spending his free time with his hands covered in dirt, making the grounds beautiful. Ghislain doesn’t let thoughts of Him filter into his head; the boy with blond hair and a name like a song. No, he just thinks of the gardens. The pretty rows of flowers and trees he planted. The staff approved of his hobby, often complimenting him on his work. The staff…

“Delacroix,” Ghislain said suddenly without realizing he’s been staring into her eyes for a few moments. “Sister Delacroix.” 

[avaruswilliam]

Another weak smile found its way onto Virginia’s face when he told her that she would be allowed to visit his garden. She had always had a fondness for growing things, even if she lacked the finesse it took to cultivate a garden of her own. Of course, even if she did have talent for it, it wouldn’t have mattered; angels dedicated their lives to humans and they weren’t allowed to have hobbies of their own. “I can’t wait,” she mumbled genuinely, mind’s eye already filling with images of flowers and herbs.

When Ghislain fell silent with his eyes meeting her’s, concern began to grow. After he finally spoke, that concern was replaced with confusion and a certain emotion she couldn’t quite place. The name was familiar, but she had no idea where she would have known it from, nor did she know why it made her heart and head ache like it was trying to fill a hole with information it didn’t have.

There was dampness at the corners of her eyes when she spoke again, even though she had no idea why she was reacting the way she was to the man in front of her saying the name with his French accent spilling the word out perfectly. “I-I’m sorry, but what? I’m not...I don’t know a ‘Sister Delacroix’.”

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain normally loves compliments. Any chance for him to preen and bathe in the warm light from another he’s all over. But these compliments make that feeling in his chest writhe. It makes him uncomfortable. She only means well, but he doesn’t know how to handle it. Telling someone their “special” and meaning it holds a lot more wight than “Damn boy, that ass.” 

“Have you met many demons?” he counters, a little sharply. Shit, he knows he’s not like other demons, but does she? The demon resettles on the floor, edge of the tub digging in under his arm while his elbow rests in the water. He doesn’t care about his clothes at this point, there’s too much blood and dirt on them already. He keeps bearing the lavender of its flowers, avoiding her body in the water and her eyes as he does so. 

“I turned the roof into a garden. The Botanical Garden here is pitiful so someone had to grow flowers that are up to par.” 

[avaruswilliam]

She paid little mind to his tone. Though she knew little about the inner workings of demons’ minds, she knew enough to know that her compliments were not likely to be received easily. Creatures of Lucifer reveled in violence and wickedness, or at least she had believed so until she met Ghislain. Either her entire perception of demons was wrong or Ghislain was special; she found the latter easy to believe given the tenderness he had shown her.

“Not many. My duty in Heaven was tending to the dead. Very rarely was I ever called to face demons, but the ones I have met were nothing like you. They were...empty, devoid of all love and kindness. Please...please don’t take offense, but you’re different. There is something in you that I’ve never seen in demons.” She hoped her kind words would not turn him against her, but even if they did, she couldn’t leave them unsaid.

“W-when I am well, could I maybe see your garden?”

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain appears in his garden, twitching around the lavish garden he’s built on top of his penthouse. He gathers bits of all the herbs he knows will help. Ginger, holy basil, st. john’s wart, thyme, mint. Then he shears nearly half his lavender stock. With his arms full of plants he pops back into the kitchen.

From a secret panel in the back of his pantry he pulls his mortar and pestle, tossing the ingredients in a bowl. To that he adds a few splashes of peppermint and witch hazel. It only takes a minute to crush together, and gather his bundle of lavender and pop back into the bathroom. 

Ghislain stands still blinking at her poor pale face. Some old dusty clog starts spinning in the back of his mind, but he’s gotta help her first. Gizmo kneels down next to the tub and tips the concoction in to the water. His eyes are still floating around as he turns the warm water back on to mix the herbs in with her bath. Without a word he starts picking apart the lavender, stripping each branch of the little purple petals to add into the water. 

[avaruswilliam]

As he returned, Virginia’s eyes followed him slowly, taking in the things he held. They seemed to be herbs, fresh if she wasn’t mistaken. What sort of demon actively grew healing herbs in their home? Not that she was complaining, per say, but it seemed that everything he did surprised her more and more and challenged all she thought she knew of demons.

“Lavender,” she remarked quietly as she watched him pull the petals off. “You’re not like any other demon I’ve met. I-I hope you don’t take offense to that...because I mean it in a good way. You’re very...special.” As of the current moment, she had no other term to describe Ghislain, the supposed monster who had saved her life when the ones who were supposed to be the most holy had gladly left her to die.

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain has the opposite problem from the angel. His very existence, now no longer human, has been devoted to lust. Faces and bodies and beings are only used to create, give and take desire. To him, bodies are inherently sexual, so asking her permission to remove the garment was a necessity. 

Instead of taking the time to undo the buttons, one by one, and pull the material away from where it’s sealed to her flesh, which could be painful, he decides to use a bit of his power he’s sure can’t hurt her. With one hand modestly on her side and the other against her back, he gets a good grasp on the fabric and wills it away. It’s like that trick where the waiter pulls the tablecloth off the table but leaves the dinner wear in place. The ruined fabric pools on the floor leaving his hands against bare skin. 

He skin feels near frigid against the heat of his hands and there’s… there’s so much blood. That feeling in Ghislain’s chest grows again, but he can do nothing for it. His eyes don’t stay in any one area long, locking on her fave for maximum decency. Carefully he slides his arms back under her and lowers her into the waters, soaking his shirt without realizing or caring. 

“I’ll be right back,” is all he says before vanishing, disappearing up to his roof, his garden, to grab some natural help for the bleeding angel in his tub. 

[avaruswilliam]

There was some relief in the removable of the fabric, especially due to the fact that it didn’t tear from her skin in the way she was expecting. Virginia suspected magic of some sort on Ghislain’s part. There was no other way the dress could have fallen off so easily, even in its tattered state. Surprisingly, she found no protest when it came to the use of his dark power, even with the voice of Michael echoing in her head, chastising her for trusting him at all.

A soft gasp pulled its way from her as she slid into the water, the sensation of it sliding over her wounds sending a tremor through her damaged body. Though strange, the feeling was pleasant and eased some of the pain that had been consuming her. 

She gave a small nod as he left before sliding under the water entirely, taking advantage of her angelic lung capacity as she let the warm water wash away some of the dirt and blood streaked across her face, revealing the currently pallid skin beneath. After some time, but before he returned, she rose back up again, significantly cleaner already and with wet, brown hair sticking to the sides of her face.

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain nods at her. He keeps his composure, not slipping too far on the pity scale. The angel didn’t need his pity, she knows the state she’s in. She just needs unbiased help. Well, at least as unbiased as he can be. The demon scoots forward, getting an arm under her knee and behind her back. She’s as light as a feather as he stands smoothly and settles her carefully on the thick, tiled edge of the lavish tub. 

One hand stays against her side, his hip helping support her too as he reaches for the buttons on the back of her dress. But his fingers pause, hesitating then stopping all together. The dress was in shreds, dangling open over terrible wounds. Ghsialin makes a slight face. It must have looked lovely on her at some point. 

“Do you want this off?” he asked carefully, fingers hovering just over the buttons. 

[avaruswilliam]

Virginia had not expected a demon to have the decency to ask before undoing her dress--even if it was so torn up and stained it hardly deserved to be called a dress any longer--but it seemed she would continue to be surprised by Ghislain’s kindness. She wondered for a moment if all demons were the way he was or if he was just special. Brown eyes ran across his face and she decided that he was certainly special.

Being an angel with little regard for decency and all but no concept of the physical body as a sexual thing, she had no trouble with the thought, and so gave a small nod. “Yes, please. It will only g-get in the way if it’s on.” Even with her grace in the mangled state it was in, she doubted she could get infections, but she wasn’t eager to test out the theory. 

One of her hands clung to him, grip weak but showing both a desperation for support despite the fact that she was not likely to fall with his hand at her side and also a small amount of trust.

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain lowers her first arm to pick up the other, holding her light limb with ease as he cleans it with a fresh towel. Ghislain lets out a huff of air through his nose as she thanks him and calls him all these things he’s not supposed to be. It makes him feel tingly in all the wrong ways. He’s a demon. He is a monster without a heart or a soul! Damn it.  

“Ghislain,” he huffs, his French accent bleeding in heavily in a way he can’t help. People need to know the correct pronunciation. “My frien– You can call me Gizmo if it’s easier.” Ghislain looks over what he’s cleaned of dirt, and how much is left to go, and suddenly understands why he chose to be evil. But fuck, he’s too far in to stop. He reaches up, turning off the water as the water level in the tub reaches a nice point. 

“I have some, ah, soothing ingredients that may help with the pain. If you–” Ghislain gestures to the large bath full of warm water. “Do you think you can manage or do you need– help?” 

[avaruswilliam]

“Ghislain,” she echoed quietly, the French name rolling perfectly off her tongue as if she was a native speaker, despite her lack of an accent. The name sounded familiar, like something she heard in a dream so long ago she couldn’t quite recall, but in the moment of pain and exhaustion, she chose to let the thoughts of familiarity slide. “My name is Virginia.” At least, she was fairly certain it was; it was the only thing from her human life that she had been allowed to remember properly and she clung to it tightly.

There was some weariness as he offered soothing ingredients, not from a distrust of him but more due to the mutual cluelessness about the other’s race. Even good intentions could be undermined by her reacting poorly to something that would treat a demon like him perfectly and, agent of Lucifer or not, she wouldn’t want that guilt on his head. Still, she had little choice since she knew that, without treatment, her grace likely wouldn’t have been enough to save her.

“I...” Admitting just how much she was suffering was hard and her voice cracked as she built up her strength. “I need help. Please.”

[matthew715-blog]

“I don’t know,” Ghislain answers, again honest with the angel. All of this honesty is making him sick. Why does she pull the honest answers out of him?  “I’m not terribly old?” Ghislain continues cleaning her face, wetting the towel periodically before moving to her neck, her damaged shoulders. “I keep them healthy.” 

To distract her from any pain she may feel while he wipes away the blood and grime he lets his wings shimmer back into this world. With both their wings in the room, even if it is considerably large for a bathroom, it’s a bit tight. Ghislain keeps one wing tucked in tight against his back, but the other stretches wide for her to see. The tip brushes the far wall, bending the end awkwardly, but Ghislain doesn’t mind. He just leans in, pulling the stopper to start filling the tub. 

“You can touch it,” he says. Angels are all weird and polite and innocent. Oh gosh she’s so innocent. While offering his wing he takes one of her hands, cleaning along her arm. You know, he never stopped to think if angel blood would have an adverse effect on him. Too late now. His hands are coating in it and he’s not in pain. Hm.

[avaruswilliam]

In Heaven, some angels were experts on demons. They spent all of their eternal life studying the creatures that were their direct counterparts, trying to figure out how they worked both mentally and physically. One of those angels might have been able to explain the soft feathers pressing against her fingers as she reached up with her free hand, touch tender as she indulged her curiosity. She, however, had specialized in the care of the deceased, and she spent her time making sure the faithful were rewarded and that they never wanted for anything. Such as it was, she knew little about demons except what had been taught to her by those she was quickly learning were biased.

“Thank you,” she murmured with no regard to how much she had already thanked him. As she brushed her dirty hand across his soft wings, an exhausted smile found its way onto her face despite the pain she was in. If one was to remove the colors of their wings, one could swear there was little difference between the angel and the demon, at least externally. That should not have been as surprising as it was, given that the one who created and commanded the damned was an angel himself, even if he was fallen.

Eventually, the strain of holding her arm up grew too much and she let it settle back down against her side. “T-they tell us demons are irredeemable, you know? They say y-you are monsters without hearts or souls...b-but you’re...I’m sorry, but you’re kind and g-gentle. W-what is your name?” Perhaps that would cause him offense, but she knew it was the truth.

[matthew715-blog]

Ghsialin was stood in the closet when the light spilled in and made him yelp. It wasn’t unbearable, it was just uncomfortable in a way the demon wasn’t expecting. The light of that man upstairs made his skin crawl. If his body could still sweat, he’d swear he just broke out into one. What the hell has he brought home, and why couldn’t it have been a kitten. 

With his arms full of towels he walks back to her, kneeling right at her side with none of the caution from before. He has to fix her before that light shit kept happening. That shit could blind a dude. Maybe. Possibly. He doesn’t want to find out. Ghislain leans up, reaching behind her to let warm water start to run into the Jacuzzi. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, taking one towel and wetting it some.. He starts at her face, gently wiping away some of the blood there, but it barely makes a dent in the ruins of her stained skin. There’s just so much… hurt, and he doesn’t know if his lack of grace would hurt her if he attempted some magic of his own.  

[avaruswilliam]

The sound of his yelp made her feel even more guilty for her lack of control and she worried that her grace might hurt him. How strange was that? She was worried about hurting a demon; she could practically hear the archangels wrath all the way from Heaven. How dare she betray everything she had been taught simply because she was in pain? Her emotions were a mess, a mix of guilt and fear and worry as her eyes focused on his face.

“Are your...your wings soft?” The question was soft and shaky, a tired attempt to distract herself from the pain that was unlike anything she had ever felt before. “I-I always thought that demon wings were rough and sharp, b-but yours looked like mine. Why is that?” More worry came at the thought that her quiet questions might have been annoying him, but as long as he didn’t abandon her, she was okay with him disliking her.

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain makes a face of disgust and shakes his head as she called him kind. No!! He has alternate motives!!! He’s not kind!!!! “Don’t insult me while I’m helping you, ange,” he says dryly, the light french accent really coiling around his last word. Outwardly, it’s meant to read like a joke. Inwardly he’s a little serious. You can’t be throwing around words like ‘kind’ when talking to someone of his breed. A demon has a reputation to uphold, you know? 

Gizmo’s warm hand wraps around hers and for just a second he takes in how small she is. This is the body he was born with. Luck or fate gave him this face and it works to his advantage as a demon. Ghislain knows he’s not a large man, not exactly tall or broad shouldered by human standards, but compared to his hand hers is terrifyingly tiny. 

It only takes a second, just the blink of his eye to will them from the grimy ground to the marble of his pristine master bathroom. In this light the wounds looked so much worse. Ghislain’s feathers fluff in alarm, betraying his emotions for a split second before he snaps them from this existence, hiding them completely. 

“I need to get some towels,” he says in an off tone, scrambling to his feet. She has to be in so much pain. Candles, white candles, lilac, sage, mint. A list starts rattling off in his head of things he’s learned, healing items that would be okay for someone as pure as the thing he’s just brought into his home. 

[avaruswilliam]

"Sorry,” Virginia mumbled, voice strained from the effort it took to reach out and take his hand. Most of the time she understood jokes, but at the moment she was far too exhausted and in far too much pain to read the subtleties of his voice. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate the last person she had left, even if he was a stranger and a demon; despite the reservations she held, there was no doubt in her mind that he was saving her life.

A flinch rocks her body as they travel as she was unused to travelling in the way of demons; it is darker to her, like moving beneath the earth rather than flying above it as she was used to. Still, the bathroom floor is far cleaner--and far warmer--than the dirty alleyway where she had crashed landed and she has no right to complain. After all, he could have easily left her to be discovered by some violent human who would waste no time in showing her ‘mercy’ as the man had described it.

There was a bright light emanating from her for a short second, but it faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her gasping for air and even more exhausted than before. It was an instinctive reaction, her body’s failed attempt to heal the damage caused by the archangels. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, tone uneven as her wings spilled back into existence due to her weakness. “I’m sorry. I don’t...mean to.”

[matthew715-blog]

This. Thing. Is. It’s making his brain short-circuit. It’s so small and helpless. Someone broke it. It poses no threat to him now. What could it hurt to… talk to it? It– She may be useful if she survives this damage, right? If he gets it to trust him? Ghislain lost his humanity through the power of black magic. He’s had 500 years of training in the magical arts and mastering his own growing powers. Surely he can do something for her. 

Carefully he shuffles closer, huffing as the gravel on the ground grinds uncomfortable under his knees. He… has no room to complain about pain though, does he? Gizmo shakes a hand idly, dismissing her offer and the sad as fuck statement that followed it. “That’s alright, angels don’t have anything I would want anyway.”

After a pause and a look of resignation he continues, “It isn’t going to be good for either of us if some human waltzes around the corner and sees this.” Ghislain’s hand twitches for a moment, fingers flexing before he decides to just do it. The demon offers his hand, gentle with his palm up to the angel. “Do you want to bleed and cry in my bathtub instead of in an alley?” 

[avaruswilliam]

Dirty brown hair clung to her face, caught in the dirt and blood and tears that stained her skin and hid the reality of her appearance. Perhaps she looked more fierce when she was dirty. Perhaps she was never meant to look fierce with her downy wings and lithe form. Perhaps fierceness was nothing of importance when it came to the harsh reality that had drug her down to a dirty Earth that she rarely visited. 

She thought a lot of perhaps as she lay there in front of the strange demon, her whole body on fire with pain that she feared might not heal properly. She also thought of the rules of Heaven and how she had been taught time and time again to hate demons with every fiber of her being. Those who had made her what she was told her that there was goodness left in any demon, but it had not been demons that left her in the broken state she was in. Angels had ruined her and yet it seemed that a demon would the one to save her. If the truth of that was grey instead of black and white, then what other rules were not as they seemed?

Exhausted eyes flickered between his face and his hand before she made up her mind. Virginia forced her wings to disappear, wincing at the effort it took to conceal them. Without them, she looked even tinier and more frail, resembling a damaged porcelain doll more than a powerful creature of God as she finally reached out to take his hand. “Yes, please. Thank you. You are...kind.”

[matthew715-blog]

Ghislain sways back a little at her story, actually taking a step back. Angels never usually lied, if they even could. He’s never been around one long enough to find out, come to think of it. Look at her, she looks beaten enough that the story fits. That weird feeling in his chest intensifies, but he can’t put a name to it. The word for it was burned out of his head hundreds of years ago. 

This is. It’s. It’s all large scale. It’s bigger than him. The actual archangels who work for the actual … Creator. None of that– Of course it was real, of course it was! He’s a demon! He’s a would-be priest turned demon! He knows all about it. All that said he’s never… experienced it. Ghislain just blinks at her as she asks for death, quickly shaking his head at her. 

“No. Non. No,” he said, head still shaking some. Going to his knees to be on her level the demon opted to bring his wings into this realm of visibility. The inky black feathers billowed behind him, fluffed from their apprehension but trying to calm themselves back down to silk. Look tearful angel, it’s an offering of sorts. An older, more powerful demon would have those icky, leathery wings he’s seen approximately three times. He’s soft. He’s new. Don’t cry more. 

“You’re having a shit enough day already. Killing you would be…” What’s the demon thing to say? Ghislain sits back on his heels, wings spread out behind him now dusting the dirt too, “… mercy? I don’t show mercy, yeah? So you’re safe from that.”  

[avaruswilliam]

In all the years that Virginia had spent in Heaven, certain things had stayed true and certain no matter how the world below changed. One: God was pure and kind and he would reward those who served him with great loyalty. Two: Angels were pure, but they were not incorruptible. (never forget the story of the Morning Star, the most beautiful of God’s children now tainted and banished) Three: Demons were irredeemable. Four: Humans would always be loved most, but angels were not allowed to become jealous. Five: One day, if an angel did their duty as well as they should, they would get the most beautiful reward of living their own dream as humans did. Six: The Kingdom of Heaven would never fall, not to demons or to humans. 

As it turned out, no one ever said it wouldn’t fall to its own caretakers, taking with it those who loved it with the most pure of hearts.

Virginia’s tired eyes widened as his wings came into view, quite different from ones she had seen before. The only demons she had properly met were old ones, those powerful and corrupt enough to require an intervention by God’s most righteous. The stranger’s wings were not like those demons’ at all. Instead, they seemed soft and gentle, almost like her own despite the inky black color that seemed to penetrate to their very core. Her curiosity--and slight confusion--was enough to stem the tide of tears for the time being, though some still slipped out.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or disappointed that her pain would not end. “T-then...what are you going to do to me?” Angels would never attack someone unless it was a fair fight, but she was fairly certain that demons didn’t have the same honor code. “I would...I would give you something in exchange for my safety but I...” Her voice broke and she fell silent for a few seconds as she tried to stop the tears. “I don’t have anything at all.”

[matthew715-blog]

It’s pitiful looking really, the angel crumpled up on the ground before him. There’s messy tears, lots of blood, filth and grim from the city alley that had never once been cleaned in its existence. An off feeling, something odd settles in his chest as he watches it beg. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

This demon isn’t on Satan’s payroll if you will. He doesn’t answer to the Darkest Prince but he doesn’t defy him either. It’s an odd existence that Ghislain’s never been ballsy enough to explore. But yes, in every other way he’s very much a demon, very dark with no ounce of his humanity to be found. Yep. 100% demon. Mean. Terrible. Sinful. Setting down his laptop case on the opposite wall of the alley. Terrifying. Shuffling a little closer with his palms out and up. Made through fire and brimstone. Lustful. Insidious. 

Ghislain’s forehead wrinkles as he stops a safe distance away, palms still up while making no sudden movements. “I’m not here to hurt you either,” he said, truthfully. “You’re not going to die.” What’s the world come to? A truthful demon? His head straightens and his shoulders slump, making himself look more meek, less threatening. Curiouser and curiouser! 

One perfectly molded brow arches at the bleeding thing. Curiosity also killed the cat, don’t blame him for being cautious. “What happened to you?”

[avaruswilliam]

Virginia felt more vulnerable than she could ever remember feeling cowering there in front of a demon like nothing more than a fragile human, her wings feeling like anchors holding her tight to the ground beneath her rather than pure signs of her goodness. Even with his gentle promises and his uncertain approach, she feared him greatly. She knew exactly what demons could--and would--do, given the chance, especially given the fact that the pair of them were all but predestined to be eternal enemies. 

There was a long moment of hesitation at his question, wondering what the repercussions would be for telling one of Lucifer’s own about the unrest in Heaven. A coughing fit rolled through her, triggered by broken ribs and blood in her mouth, and she realized whatever happened now didn’t matter; the two most powerful angels had tried to kill her and likely would finish the job if they found her, so she was trapped on Earth until God intervened...if he ever would. Slowly, she managed to recover from her coughing enough to speak.

“M-Michael and Gabriel are at war,” she admitted, wondering if he would attack her as soon as he realized she had no one left to protect her. “They fight for power and they don’t...don’t care who they hurt. They were tearing apart humans’ dreams, their afterlifes. We tried to fix it, but they turned on us. I-I barely got away. Everyone else in my garrison is dead.” A slow breath rattled through her lungs as she looked up at him with tear filled eyes. “If you want to kill me, please do it quickly. I should like not to suffer anymore.”

[matthew715-blog]

Honest to Him, as he was about to dish out his first F of the session a noise stopped him from punching in the letter. Ghislain’s head popped up at the noise. A few other patrons looked around, but non seemed too interested in checking it out. For Ghislain, it wasn’t as much about the sound as the feel. Something tingled in the air around him. Had it been a stronger feeling, it would be a warning to turn tail. But this vibration didn’t tick on his fight or flight instincts. It simply made him… curious. 

Rising from his seat, and yes Ghislain’s that asshole that just leaves his empty cup on the table, he gently taps his laptop shut and packs it away swiftly. With his bag slung over his shoulder he (unnecessarily) elbowed past the waiting line of people and onto the street. Once outside, with the cool breeze to his face he follows the sensation. It doesn’t take long to find. Cutting out of the sidewalk traffic he stepped fearlessly down a tight alley. Not deterred by a locked fence, after a quick look over his shoulder he vanished to smoke, reappearing at a walking pace on the other side. Round a corner and into a shadowy opening, larger than the one he’d exited, he found the source of the noise and excitement. It was as bright as all the things he’d come to loath and it was– it was covered in blood. The demon tilted his head to the side, more confused than anything else. 

“Are you–” Ghislain started, looking around wearily in case it was a trap. In case this thing had friends. “–alive under there?”

[avaruswilliam]

Though she did not realize it until several long moments after her agonizing crash landing, there was something else nearby. It was dark, a raw aching feeling in her chest that she recognized immediately as her species’ damned counterpart. The thought terrified her, but she didn’t have the strength to flee, even as footsteps--and the shadow drenched sensation--came closer, the build up culminating in a rather mundane question given the circumstances.

She shifted just barely, wings pulling back to reveal her bruised and tear stained face as she looked up at the man who was so much more than a normal person. “Please...” It was the first word she managed to choke out, rough around the edges and cracking from the pain that her severely weakened grace couldn’t even begin to heal. “Please don’t...don’t hurt me. Please.”

Even if she was never one of God’s fiercest soldiers, it had never been in her to beg for something from a demon, but everything had fallen apart so quickly and she knew she had no choice. “I’m not here to...hurt you. I-I...” Her words were cut off by a quiet cry of pain as she tried to sit up but only crumpled further against the wall she was pressed again. “Please. I don’t want to die.” Fear permeated every syllable, her voice shaking as surely as her body.