Messiah 🎔 Arlo
@dansemorosity
The smell was enough to alert him, stopping mid-sentence once he caught whiff of the artificial demon. He smelt of ash, blood, and lab equipment. An odd, but distinct combination of scents that had Messiah take a deep drag of his cigarette. The other person in the room, irritatingly oblivious to Arlo’s sudden arrival, looks at him with a curious frown. After all, he did just descend into silence whilst explaining a new business proposal. A puff of smoke and a few flicks into the ashtray, his only regret was not lighting up a cigar instead.
“Sorry,” he purrs with a lecherous grin, “seems we have a visitor. Please don’t mind it.” The other tries their best to smile, but it comes out unsure, fearful; Of Messiah, and whatever sort of beast that could make the powerful angel stop in his tracks. Hesitantly, they turn to look at the office door, lip bitten between sharp teeth and Messiah watches them with sick amusement. Maybe Arlo’s surprise visit wasn’t all bad now that he got to watch the little entity squirm in their seat.
On cue, wooden door is thrown open and bangs against the wall. The weaker entity jumps, hands tightening against the chairs arms as they too, make eye contact with Arlo. Messiah can hear the crack of his doorstop, his once indifferent, only slightly entertained, mood dims like a dying fire. Arlo was already far too comfortable in Messiah’s office.
Once the line between club and the angel’s personal haven is crossed, Messiah gives Arlo a dead-eyed stare. Disapproving and callous. Before Arlo could speak, the angel stretches out his arm with a finger raised. Demon’s parted lips are forcibly clamped shut. Silence. “Good-evening Arlo, please wait a moment.” He speaks with dry humor, sarcasm coating his tongue and he far too aggressively pulls out a drawer from the side of his desk. In it, he takes out a small black book, humming a curious tune as he flips through it. “Very, very strange,” he tuts with a shake of his head. “I don’t see you scheduled today, yet you’re here. In my office.” Smoke fills the air and his eyes never leave the taller male.
The first guest, trembling in their seat, makes a move to get up. Quietly, politely, as not to disturb Messiah till they’re suddenly dragged back down. Whatever gripped them made its way to their neck, binding and coiling and cutting off their airways. Their hands quickly find themselves at their own throat in a desperate attempt to get it off, struggling like a fish out of water in Messiah’s leather clad chairs. “S-Sir- M-” And just like Arlo, their jaw is fastened tight by an unseen force.
“I run a business here, not a playground. It better be important.” A threat covers over his irritation like a weighted blanket. It was there, heavy, painfully evident and suffocating. He leans forward, chin placed in the palm of his hand and he motions at Arlo with a flick of his cigarette. “Speak.”
