Earth, Heaven, Hell. Demons and Angels have been at war or on the brink of it for as long as history. The only thing Angels and Demons can agree on is keeping their kind's existence hidden from humans. Of course, not everyone follows that. Short stories about brings in each major species (and some in between) and events in their lives.
Odam They were still coming. I scrambled up from sitting against the brick wall and limped on. I pulled my hat down over my red hair though it wouldn't do much help. I needed to get them off my tail. My leg was bleeding badly, and I needed to stop it before I bled out or it got infected. I glanced behind me, taking into account the glow of the oncoming torches from around the corner and the sounds bouncing off the walls getting louder. I opened my lips to use the scent glands on the top of my mouth. They were close. So very close. The first one appeared in the alley entrance. I grit my teeth and took off running, not letting the pain in my leg distract me. I heard shouts behind me but didn't look back. No matter what the costs. I couldn't die, not here, not this way. I owed it to her. I needed to stay alive. Pink eyes. Soft smile. Blue fur. She smiled up at me as I leaned down to kiss her. Murmured words of comfort in her ear. Asked her to be my mate for life. Convinced her to go hunting here, even with the trials. Watched as they beat her. Screamed as she burned. Ran as they turned to me next. I ran. I forgot pain and I ran. And then I wasn't. I fell on my side as my wounded leg collapsed from under me. Couldn't move. The adrenaline receded and pain crashed over my like a wave. Couldn't breath. Couldn't port. My mouth was open as I raggedly drew breath. The scents told me they were getting closer, but I couldn't do anything. I lost my resolve. 'I'm so sorry.' My thoughts resolved around those three words. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' They found me. I closed my blue eyes, drawing up pictures of her as I prepared for death. No one really knows what it's like for the dead stay dead and can't tell their stories. I slid into the black and rejoiced as the pain, the sounds, and the smells, receded. ^^^^^^^^^^ I opened my eyes. Darkness broken with little dots of light. I sat up. Darkness but the pin pricks above me. I tried calling out but my mouth wouldn't respond and pain barely registered. Pain. Pain. So much pain. It washed over me. The dead didn't feel pain. Panic rose up with the pain. Pain and fear. Pain, fear, hunger. Pain, fear hunger, and blood. The dots above me disappeared as the blackness swallowed me again. ^^^^^^^^^^ I blinked my eyes open. The sky was on fire. No. The sun was rising. Did the land of dead have a sun? Did the day change to night here? Apparently. But dead don't feel pain. Right? I tried groaning but only a gurgled sound escaped from my unopened mouth. I sat up, leaning against the wall behind me. My whole body was on fire, but it centered around my unresponsive mouth. Dried blood on my pants. I tried moving my leg and it didn't respond. I tried scenting, but my mouth still wouldn't cooperate. Then it came back. My love. Hunting. England. The trials. Fire. They killed her. I ran. I died. Or did I? My mind was still foggy and the pain wasn't helping. Could I risk porting? Could I risk NOT porting? Hell was too far. Somewhere closer. I reached out with the natural ability of all porting demons and scanned. And ported. Thank Satan. This building was empty and vacated, by the looks of it. I was still sitting when I ported and the lack of wall caused me to fall backwards. Fatigue swept over me and I fell asleep once again. When I woke for the third time, the windows were dark once again, but my eyes were now adjusting. A good sign. I struggled to sit up and, with much pain, stood. I ported to a medical building nearby and ported back. I pushed away the spinning dizziness threatening to put me out again. My resolve was back at least. I sat on the closest thing to me, the floor, and wrapped my leg. I tore off the bloodied section of my pants to keep the wound clear. Mirror. Something reflective. Needed to check this persistent wound on my face. I hobbled through the building, up to the second floor, down to the basement, hoping that the squeaky stairs didn't wake anyone close by. The only creatures close were the rats, watching me with their curious yellow eyes. My stomach growled at the sight of them. Treat wound, eat, heal, get out of here. The mental checklist popped up in my head, a favored activity of mine that she'd always found annoying but cute. I removed blankets from portraits and furniture until a century-old mirror was uncovered. The lights didn't work. It was too dark down here, especially for my not-very-light-sensitive eyes. Genetics had taken a liking for scent over sight apparently. The mirror was too heavy to lift, even if I wasn't injured. A noise of frustration escaped the back of my throat. Fine. SLEEP, check face, treat whatever was wrong, eat, heal, get out of here. I could adjust the list. I'm flexible. I limped over to a previously uncovered couch and flopped down. The wandering of the building had left my still-weak body completely drained and I almost immediately fell asleep. I opened my eyes and recalled my list, habit made out of a century of obsessive organization. I swung my legs over the couch and sat up. No head spinning. Unfortunately, that wouldn't last long, but the relief was welcomed. I stood and walked over to the mirror. There were no windows in the 19 century European cellar. The black was stifling and I had to, mentally, tell myself there were no humans with fire hiding in the shadows. Cause fire glows. And that would give them away. So nothing there; just you and the rats. I put my hands over the floor-to-ceiling mirror and ported upstairs. Light filtered into the two-story entry way through the windows near the ceiling. Dust sprinkled down through the beams to collect into a thin layer on the floor. A fairly undisturbed floor except where I'd been the night previous. I leaned the mirror against the wall. I looked at myself and saw a smiling face. Blue fur. Pink eyes. Blood ran from her head, her arms, her body. Her fur ignited into a great flame and burning fur hit my nose. I gasped, which was more of a sharp intake through my nose, and stepped away, blinking. She was gone and something else stood in her place. A monster. It's dark blue eyes were haunted, telling stories of events gone. It's flaming red hair was muted by a layer of ash, dust, and blood. It's clothes were caked in rust and dirt. It's skin, an almost radioactive green, was turned brown from blood. It's black horns were grey from ash. But its mouth. Its mouth was covered in stitches. Black threads snaked from lip to lip, keeping the monster's mouth closed. Keeping it's teeth from sinking into me. I would've yelled, given some warning, but couldn't. I backed into the far wall. A small realization in the back of my mind finally got through the panicked thoughts of fight or flight. The monster responded to me. I lifted an arm, it lifted an arm. I stepped closer, it stepped closer. I moved my hand up to my mouth and it did the same, eyes never leaving me. I ran my hand over the stitches, feeling the texture the picture in front of me visually said. I felt dizzy again. I sidestepped, tripped over the stairs, and landed, hitting my head with a resounding crack. ^^^^^^^^^^ The mirror had been covered with a blanket as soon as I'd reawaken. I looked at the rats, lonely, hungry, my stomach protesting loudly. I'd die of starvation. I couldn't catch any of the stupid things. I couldn't hunt, my heightened sense of smell was gone. My mate was dead. The humans were probably still looking for me. It haunted me for the rest of my life. Why. Why did they leave me alive? Did they think I had died from blood loss after stitching my mouth? Had they planned to come back for me? Had another demon fought them off? I clung to my only sense of assurance. She'd fought them off. She'd saved me. Either from the afterlife or from the living world, she'd gotten the monsters away. It was my only rope to sanity. Or maybe I'd lost even that. My hands circled into fists. Them. THEY had killed her. THEY had let me live, MADE me live without her. THEY kept me alive when I could no longer eat. It wasn't enough for THEM to simply kill me, I had to die slowly through starvation. No. I stood up. They didn't know me, didn't know my species. We had personalities, souls, lives. I was English. I was raised to not give up without a fight. I ported.
Sorry for the inactivity. I've been super stressed lately and minimal followers hasn't given me much motivation to queue anything up. And my old process for editing and getting stories on here was long and tedious. I've figured out a new way, though school hasn't gotten any better, so we'll see how it goes.
"What, did it secrete a poison and you only have an hour to live?"
"No, but I'd be dead already if that was the case."
"Then what? Its ghost is going to come back and scare you to death?"
Michael sighed dramatically and flopped backwards onto his bed. "No." He groaned. "Dad is going to skin me. Pin my wings on the wall above his bed."
"Oh good, then I can lead."
"Shut up, Lucifer." Belle shot him a glare, giving him her scariest stern mother impression. Lucifer and David both looked at her and stepped away, giving her her space. Belle rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to Michael. "What did you break?"
"Better question is 'how'. You're not light on your feet, but you aren't that clumsy." David shifted away as Belle turned her glare on him.
"Not helping." She hissed between her teeth.
"Some hopelessly priceless artifact from before the war when angels and demons lived in peace. A talented demon craftsman had made it as a present for my grandfather, like, millions of years ago."
"I doubt it was millions."
"It looked like millions!"
"I've an idea," Lucifer piped up. "Let's just all blame David and run."
"Wow, thanks."
"He's figured out it's usually you doing the stuff though. Probably why Dad doesn't like you."
"He just hasn't figured out how charming I am."
Michael sat up. "I should probably tell him before he sends a guard or the Second to hunt me down."
"Don't die."
"And keep your skin."
"Thanks, Luce."
^^^^^^^^^^
"Dad?"
"Yes, Michael."
Michael pushed open the door as quietly as possible, shutting it slowly behind him. The Leader was at his desk, scribbling away at something.
"Dad?"
"Go ahead."
He wasn't looking up. That was good. "I, uh, I was practicing with my sword and," Michael paused as his father's hand paused.
His father looked over at him. "What did you break?"
Michael couldn't do it anymore. His eyes dropped to his shoes and he played with his hands behind his back. "The thing that that demon had given grandfather millions of years ago."
"Where were you when you broke it?"
"Outside the training room."
"Oh, that was a replica." The Leader turned back to his desk, picked up his pen, and started scribbling away again.
". . . wut."
"It was a replica. I had many of the more valuable things replicated when the war started and the rest when you were born."
"..........wut."
"It was a fake, Michael. Don't worry about it, I'll simply have another made. Go back to your room and study."
Michael blinked, relieved at not having broken something important and mad that his dad would lie to him and tell him all those things were real. He turned and left the room, quiet as possible, and walked back to his friends in his room.
Rachael paused, listening to the pounding on the roof. "You mean rain?"
"What's that?"
"You've never seen rain?"
"Have you ever seen a sandworm?"
"TouchĂŠ." Rachael sighed, throwing her notebook on the side table. She got up and walked to the front room where her girlfriend was staring out the window, nose practically pressed to the glass. Rachael stood beside her, gazing out the window at the cloud covered darkness outside.
"What is it?" Kali's breath was fogging up the glass.
"What do you mean?"
"The ray-i-n. Is it poisonous?"
"Rain. It's just water."
"Wait, say it again."
"Ray-n."
Kali drew back from the window and looked at Rachael, her bright green eyes wide. "Say it in your other language."
"My wha- you first."
Kali made a series of growls and chirps. "That's just 'objects falling from the sky'."
Rachael smiled. She loved hearing Kali speak in her native language, as animalistic as it was. "lluvia. Rain."
"Rain." Kali looked back out the window. Subconsciously, her dark blue tail wrapped around Rachael's hips and pulled her closer. "It doesn't seem to be hurting anything out there."
Rachael laughed, "No, it's just water."
"Water from the sky?"
"Yes. You don't have that?"
"I live in a giant desert, of course we don't have sky water." Kali made a different sound, this one more growls then chirps and ending in a bark. It was also much shorter than the last string of sounds. "Sky water."
"You bark for water?"
"It wasn't a bark."
"That was totally a bark."
"Can't be proven. Fact of the matter, you people have sky water, and that's amazing."
"It can also become snow too."
"Snow comes from the sky?!" Kali looked over at Rachael.
"Where did you think it comes from?"
"The ground! When it's cold, all the grass turns white and wet and cold  and fluffy as it sheds its seed!"
"Oh boy. Well, it's winter now, so you'll have to wait until summer to see snow here. Or we could teleport to the northern hemisphere to see snow there."
"Why isn't there snow here now?"
"Because there's never snow in winter! It's warm! Northern hemisphere is the opposite of us so they have snow in winter. Which would be so weird. You could wake up on Christmas and there'd be snow on the ground, that'd be so weird. What kind of a holiday is that?"
"I'm so confused."
Rachael looked at Kali. "Mm, Greenland, do you know where that is?"
"I think so?"
"Ok, there's probably snow there, let's go. I'll show you the wonders of frostbite."
"That doesn't sound very wonderful." Kali held out a dark blue skinned hand and Rachael took it in her tanned  one. Kali thought back to when Rachael had shown her the globe, thinking of every land mass she'd named. Greenland was the huge one by the Santa pole, that's right. And they were gone in a cloud of smoke, sulfur, and brimstone.
Her bed moved. Faintly. A minute up and down motion. As her mind woke up, she realized her face was pressed into something and a strong scent wafted around her. This and the movement of something along her back woke her up the rest the way and caused her to sit up quickly in her bed. The body next to her shifted and she looked down at him.
Azazel. In her bed. And they were both naked. Shadow could feel her face heating up, glad once again she had black fur. She buried her face in her hands anyway, feeling his gaze on her. The bed moved as Azazel sat up and wrapped an arm around her.
"We can simply call it DMS."
Shadow shook her head. "Mmph."
"I don't know what that means."
"Don't want to."
There was a pause. "I'm confused. What are you upset about?"
"Just . . ." Shadow gestured between the two of them. "This. But not this. I don't know."
There was another pause. "I'm still confused."
"This isn't how I thought I'd find a mate. Didn't think I'd ever find a mate."
"Why? You're beautiful."
Shadow blushed even more, accepting her fate and dropping her hands. "Males are stupid."
Azazel chuckled behind her, deep and maybe slightly kind of attractive. "Thank you."
"You are!"
He hesitated, Shadow could tell the pause was different than before. "Is that why you flinch whenever I touch you?"
She didn't look at him, didn't move. Her tail stilled from where it was still tangled around his legs. She shrunk in on herself, balling up as much as she could without any major movements. Old habits die hard, and any significant movement would mean she'd get found and punished.
Azazel sighed behind her, dropping his arm from around her shoulders. "I'm sorry." He whispered. He scooted to the edge of the bed, Shadow automatically untangling her tail and wrapping it around herself. He stood but didn't move away, looking down at her huddled form. "Should shower. Together or not, it doesnât matter."
Shadow finally looked up at him, blinking. She nodded and bit her lower lip as she moved the sheets from around her waist. She uncrossed her legs to follow Azazel, who had already gone to the doorway. A small whimper caused him to stop and look back. Shadow was frowning at her legs and tried pushing herself up again, gasping and falling back again. He tried not to think of the last time she'd made that sound.
"What's wrong?"
"I hurt."
Azazel couldn't help his smile. He walked back over and moved quickly before she could react. He slid an arm under her arms and the other under her knees and lifted, bringing her body against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, out of fear or compassion, he wasn't sure. Shadow didn't look at him, simply buried her face in his neck again and her tail wrapped around his waist.
He felt a sudden surge of something then. He couldn't quite place it, either because he hadn't grown up around people or he was simply a cold-hearted monster. Either way, he felt protective of the girl in his arms. Since the first day she'd fought that other male and he had to force himself not to step in.
Azazel took a step and she whimpered. He sighed and teleported to the bathroom.
He was gone in the morning. There was only one bottle of alcohol left and Shadow had no hesitation in opening and downing it. It burned but cleared the sleep from her head immediately, energy burning through her veins in its wake. She couldn't help the bad feeling that had crept its way into her mind after finding Azazel wasn't in his usual place on the couch so she went to what had become his room.
Shadow flipped on the lights, distantly surprised that they still worked but more surprised that the room was empty. Nothing but the bed, the night stand, and the small lamp. No vast collection of knives, no jacket on the bed post, no mismatched knick-knacks he found remarkable in some way. It was almost as if the man had never been here at all. Shadow turned off the lights and shut the door, leaving the room to be unused once again.
^^^^^^^^^^
Weeks went by. Shadow started going to classes again but didn't see Azazel in any of the ones they'd shared. Males who had looked at her like prey before, now gave her a wide berth and she found with the coming DMS that none had attempted a proposal with her. Shadow found herself waking in the middle of the night with a shiver not even all the blankets she could pile on without suffocating could cure.
DMS was now in full swing and still no males had asked her to be their mate for the season. Shadow had always been able to distract herself from the urges before, busying herself with this and that and by the end, her dorm would be cleaner than ever. But this time, it was impossible. She'd be bending down to pick clothes off of the floor and fall down gasping from the sudden force, or pulling something from a cabinet and drop it from a wave of heat.
Through all this, Shadow found herself at vodka falls. She wasn't one for drinking herself into stupidity, but she could not stand the urges any longer, and she really didn't have any more glasses to break. The thought of asking a random male was beyond repulsive to her, not to mention they'd probably all found mates by now anyway. Shadow looked down into the pool of alcohol, her own face shimmering back at her in the dark, night sky, two blue orbs the only mark of her existence with her black fur.
A hand tapped her shoulder and without thinking, she grabbed the arm and twisted until its owner yelped, standing and using the wrist lock to put the other demon on the ground. Shadow glared down at the golden, glowing eyes and let go of the hand. Azazel shook out his arm, keeping his eyes on her as he stood up again.
Shadow promptly punched him in the face. "Where have you been?!" She yelled as she rubbed her knuckles, trying to calm her nerves and keep her emotions under check. No need for an emotional breakdown now.
"Home." Azazel replied through a bloody nose.
"You don't just leave with no word!"
"I didn't think you wanted me around." His voice was distorted through his blocked nose.
Shadow paused. "Sorry."
Azazel's eyes went from the empty bottle he'd dropped on the ground to her face. The silence went on for a moment, him just gazing at her, and Shadow finally dropped her gaze to the ground, then cursing herself for her show of subordination and looking back up at him.
"I have never been good at reading people. Think I should be apologizing." Azazel finally replied. His head tilted slightly and his eyes flicked back and forth between her dark blue ones, reading her expression and waiting for her response.
Shadow looked back at the falls. "I think I've only been here once. When I was a kid. Sister got so mad when she finally found me, she got so scared I'd been eaten."
"She must care." Azazel knelt to pick up his now-sandy bottle and walked over to the edge.
"Refill?"
"Yea. Not as good as the Russian stuff, but still good."
"Russian?"
"Human civilization. Live in snow and tundra. Very hardened people, lot of fun to be around."
"Is that the accent when you speak anything but Demon?"
Azazel stood back up and looked over his shoulder at her. "Yes. Grew up there. Spent my time hunting the animals there and living with the people."
Shadow wrinkled her nose. "You lived with humans?"
"You did not?"
"Hell born and raised."
"Hm. You have slight accent from a newer formed civilization there."
"Sister spent some time there. Could be her influence."
"Ah, that could do it." They descended into silence again. Azazel looked down at the vodka in his hand, internally debating whether or not to drink it now or later. He looked back up at the female before him. She looked lost or unsure of herself. Perhaps she'd never done this before. From his interactions with her, she seemed like she'd always relied on her feisty attitude to survive, pushing males away and fighting with words and snippy comebacks. He'd never seen her do anything resembling compassion unless she was with that other female, and even then it had never gone past companionship.
Shadow looked up at Azazel and his internal monologue ceased. The way she'd look at the things around her, expression fierce but eyes always calculating and reacting, changing on the situation. She was beautiful, from the day he'd seen her fight in the arena to the past few days she'd been grieving. She stepped towards him and his mind blanked again.
"Is your nose ok? Stopped bleeding?" It was DMS and there was a female very close to him.
"Yes, it was a nice hit." Achievement, voice didn't shake at all.
"Temper can get away with me sometimes." Shadow looked back over at the falls. Too bad Hell's moon never showed through the sand clouds, she would have been outlined right now.
"I know the feeling."
She looked back at him. "Thought you could always keep your emotions in check. I've seen you smile maybe twice."
Those eyes. "Perhaps youâre just not very funny."
Shadow grinned and punched him on the arm, lighter than before but still enough to make him step backwards. "I am hilarious."
Azazel leaned down and kissed her. She froze under him and he lifted up slightly, already expecting another punch. Her lips grazed his then her arms were behind his neck pulling him down. He could tell she was inexperienced, she fumbled many times and seemed unsure of what to do with her hands. Azazel easily took control of the kiss, setting a hand on the back of her neck under her hair and the other on her side. His tail wrapped around her hips and a second later her's was around his leg.
They broke and he, once again, expected a punch when she realized what happened. Her pupils were blown wide in the clouded moonlight and her breath was coming in gasps in the cool night air.
"I apologize." Azazel whispered. Her eyes flicked up to his face and her mouth quirked into a half smirk.
"Why?"
He was taken aback. "From how you've acted with other males, I assumed you would be mad."
"You were stalking."
"I was simply around the same area as you. A lot."
"Stalking."
"Hunting."
Shadow leaned back. "I'm not prey."
Azazel kissed her again, whispering against her lips, "No, a prize."
So I first created Gilbert in 8th grade. He was my first OC that wasn't part of any fandom and didn't just look like me. In short, I didn't know what the Hell I was doing character design wise. I basically staked everything I could think of onto his person and went with it. This was my first draft. My later drafts slowly got less cringy and his design slowly got more simple. What you see here is a redraw of my first draft from 8th grade and what Gilbert looks like now. Just goes to show that a character is never the best the first try and will go through some major changes.
snowghoul
titsay
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jacobvanloon