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Warmth
Part 2 of Blessed Oblivion
Neechi
(( Original ))Pairings: m/m; shonen-ai; yaoi….
Warnings/Author’s Note: Some blood… some angsty stuff… shrugs It’s nothing if you’ve read Surrender… and this is the sequel to it… so you better be paying attention!
A/N: Thanks to 'Pants' forhis sunflower eyes for inspiration. (And thanks to Mary for pointing them out! Awesome, sweetheart! XP)
Fascinating.
Today, though, Master was silent again. Master was usually silent, but this time He was quieter. One long, thin leg was slung carelessly over the other, and He slouched in His seat. It was a pretty seat. It was black and intricately designed- there was perfect spots for His wings to sit, too.
He looked down at her, and Shell looked back at Him adoringly. “Master?” her voice, as sweet as rain and as clear as chiming bells on Christmas Day, contrasted her grotesque appearance. He reached down, His long, thin, pale fingers trailing down what had once been her forehead to what was left of her ‘nose’.
His hand flicked towards her right, and she eagerly jumped up, seeing who it was. Another Master... a being just as cruel and just as righteous as hers. This one had long, long, long hair that was just like the ‘sun’. Shell had never seen the ‘sun’, but there was one, supposedly. Shell wasn’t going to doubt what Master said. The other Master’s skin wasn’t as pale as Shell’s Masters’ skin, but it was definitely lighter than hers… seeing as how her flesh matched the shadows of Hell. This Master didn’t hide his eyes from anyone… they were his ultimate weapons. They were a huge contrast to everything Shell had ever seen before- they were silver.
“Lord,” the new Master’s voice rang clearly like tapping on a window.
Master’s head lifted, and He stood and turned to face the new Master, “Lord Grashyin.” Shell shivered at the sound of that voice. It grated against her mind. It was no different than any other, really… except that it wasn’t sinisterly sweet, and it wasn’t sinfully deadly… it was human. Master sounded like a very tired human- although one young and beautiful to the eyes, of course. His voice bothered Master Lord Grashyin, too. The walking ‘sun’ visibly shuddered, and Master didn’t respond to that. “What brings you here?”
“We have word, Lord Aes,” Master Lord Grashyin responded, eyes flickering to Shell, “Should she be here?”
“She’s my handservant, Lord Grashyin,” Master was just as cold and emotionless as everyone envied Him for, “Continue, please.” And He said ‘please’. As far as Shell knew, no one in Hell said ‘please’. Not even the High Lord, which meant that Lord Aes was weak… but at the same time, He was the strongest out of all of them.
Poor Master Lord Aes, being stuck with the weakest beings of Hell.
“Of course,” Master Lord Grashyin sneered, “We have word that one of yours has successfully done what none of the others have ever managed.” Master grinned; His wings fluttered and readjusted themselves. Shell was immensely happy; Master was about to show Master Lord Grashyin. Oh yes, Master Lord Grashyin would feel like the ultimate fool.
“Why, Lord Grashyin,” His hands rested on His lean hips, “Simply because the High Lord of Hell has plans of his own doesn’t mean that we have the right to slack off.”
“You did something, didn’t you?” Master Lord Grashyin hissed.
“I did nothing,” Master’s voice darkened. Master had the most wonderful voice in all the worlds, “I had them carry out an order.”
“You were never responsible for her death. You shouldn’t have taken that glory.”
“It seems that you are all fools, then. Don’t you agree, Shell?” one hand came down to rest on her head. Shell nodded vigorously, and Master pet her. It felt wonderful.
“You’re doing something, Aes,” Master Lord Grashyin’s aura darkened, if that was possible, and it swirled with his anger. “I know you’re doing something. That mortal bitch was impossibly stronger than any of your little things. You had to have done something.”
“Did it ever occur to you,” Master turned away, showing that He wasn’t afraid and that He was strong and wise, “That maybe all they were expecting was something from you. Something that was intricately planned, something well thought out,” He paused to watch Master Lord Grashyin’s face, “Exactly what you were doing. They’d come out with just a few scratches, wouldn’t they? Seeing as how they can call upon the strength of the Gods Above, who’d doubt their victories?”
“Shut up. That’s not true. Your creatures are nothing.”
“Which is exactly why they spend their time here with me, Grashyin,” He turned around completely, didn’t look over His shoulder as He said, “Shell, please show Lord Grashyin the way out.”
“Yes, Master,” she smiled, and if He had been any other, if He hadn’t expected it, that smile would have struck depths of despair deep into His heart. “Master Lord Grashyin,” she smiled at him, too.
Master Lord Grashyin wasn’t used to dealing with the most hideous things out of all of Hell and humanity and Heaven… he left without her. After making sure Master Lord Grashyin wasn’t there any more, Shell returned to her Master’s feet, basking in the glory of being so near to Him.
Months.
Years.
It had been centuries, centuries since he’d seen it. And oh, how he missed it, how he loved it. His fingers itched to be touched by it, his hideous condemned body madly yearned for that sweet, sweet release into reality, into light. In this Hell, there was no moon, there were no stars, and there was no sun. Servants stared at him in wonder, always forgetting that they had turned him into what he was. What he never wanted to be.
And they delighted in his foolish, apathetic forgiveness.
These creatures that served him, saw him as the ultimate God, and would serve him forever, if asked. If he wished to rule all of Hell, these pathetic creatures made of darkness would certainly follow his desire, and then the stupid ‘higher beings’ would fall into what he would claim as his own.
But all he wanted was to see the Sun.
He wanted to see those wonderful, bright rays and he wanted to feel them touching his skin. He needed that warmth pressing against his flesh, he needed that light burning his eyes and to see those sun-drenched dwellings and foliage and soft petals. And, most importantly, he wanted to see people. He wanted to touch the mortals, to touch their flesh and feel their warm breaths against his cold, untouched skin.
He sighed, leaned into his fist, and watched the darkness span out in front of him while his hand rested on the grotesque features of a creature that had been made by what was evil and what was Hell itself.
The boy ran. His tawny hair falling out of its carefully tied ribbons and his silk shirt stained with blood that was quickly caking in the air that brushed against it. His calf-high boots slapped against the hard concrete of the ground beneath him, even in this darkness, and his now torn and tattered slacks let the night air breathe against his hot and sweating flesh.
Laughter rippled out of the alleys and streets and darkness behind him.
Fear gripped his pounding heart too tightly, and he was suffocating with panic. Of course, he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, they would be on him, they would have him and he’d have to wait months upon months before he could fully escape their horrid choking grasp again.
“Eoin! Come back! We’re only going to-!”
He blocked it out, concentrating on the mess of trees before him. He was on the outskirts of the city, now, and he knew by the forestry that towered over the earth, shielding the ground from the moonlight by night and the sunlight by day. Finally, he escaped inside, stumbling over dirt and rocks and pushing his way past trunks and branches and bushes. Through the towering canopy above him, little moonlight and starlight filtered through, but it was enough.
Those behind him had stopped in their loud taunts, finding it difficult to track him in the darkness, but he wasn’t far enough, not yet. They could still see him in glimpses, and so they were splitting up and completely concentrating on finding him… following the light that bounced off of his bloodstained white silk shirt.
Something abruptly wrapped its strong grip around his ankle, and Eoin fell into the ground face-first, spraining his wrist as he futilely tried to soften the blow of his body hitting the ground. For a moment, he was still, listening as he overcame the shock. And then hands, thin and pale and sharp, were pulling him into the bushes, and he fought as much as he dared, but those hand won. They scraped at his legs, at his thighs, and finally they dug into his flesh and pulled him down.
He almost forgot not to scream.
Hollow gently glowing cobalt blue eyes stared down at him. As his eyes readjusted in the slight change of lighting, he was a thin, pale, starved and bleeding woman. Her flesh was chilled, and the blood that pooled out beneath her was sticky and cold, but not from the night.
“Eoin,” her voice whispered, hoarse and strained. Her hands released him and she tugged at something around her neck, grabbed his hand with her bony fingers and shoved a cold, soothing metal object into his hand. Eyes wide, he stared at her in disbelief, in wonder, in fear. Her eyes ghosted over his face, over his body, and made him shiver. She wouldn’t let go of him. “Take this. Don’t let anyone touch it. It’s yours,” the words spilled out quickly, frantically, “I don’t have much time, Eoin, but don’t ever let them have it, don’t ever let them have it.”
He was too scared to speak.
Her voice was heavier now, and then it suddenly reeked of an accent she hadn’t had seconds ago, and her words were unintelligible, but her hand wasn’t releasing him, and he wanted it to. It was so cold, so, so cold and all he wanted was to be alone. He never asked for this life, he didn’t ask to be here. Was someone punishing him? What did they want? Suddenly, her whole body leaned into him, and her cold, frozen lips pressed themselves against his.
A field, green as green can be and as pure as innocence. Colorful blossoms dotted the meadow, the sunlight filtering down through the rare, puffy white clouds and a soft, perfectly cool breeze caressed the land and the edges of a joyous, innocently peaceful wood in that wonderfully green valley. Relief washed through him, caressing his body as if he was a stone being washed slowly and lovingly by a stream kissed by the rays of some profound light.
And then her body went limp and heavy, and when he finally shoved her bulk away, her eyes were open and dead.
Something had happened.
If he could, he would have cried.
Dyami. His dear friend asked, her voice as clear as water trickling through a stream on a sunny day.
‘I’m fine, I just know her, is all.’
Boy.
‘Asleep. Looks like he’s been through a lot.’
Food. And she disappeared.
The breeze floated through the trees, rustling leaves and branches and inspiring the birds to awaken their songs. The boy shuddered, and his eyes peeled themselves open. His mouth opened and formed a small ‘O’ at the sight of the tall shadow looming over him.
“No worries, kid,” Dyami grinned, reaching out to offer a hand up. The boy stared at it like a rabbit would shy away from a tiger. “Did you know her?”
“I didn’t kill her! Get away from me!” Frantically, he pushed himself backwards, hands dirtying more on the ground, the sticky brown blood that hadn’t dried completely reattaching itself to him.
“Whoa,” Dyami drew his hand back immediately, raising them to shrug and shake his head. “Call me Dyami, kid. What’s your name?” The boy eyed Dyami warily, unsure of what do to or if he was trustworthy.
“…Eoin…” the boy darted his eyes around, searching for an escape route.
“Hey,” Dyami knelt down on the ground, gently watching the boy’s face. Slowly, his own chocolate brown eyes met Eoin’s... and he was held inside those brilliant orbs in rapture. The hazel surrounded the black pupils, only to jut out into golden color, aptly akin to sunflowers, and was then surrounded by another hazel and then finished off with a coffee colored edge. The light filtered through the leaves and branches, mixing with the wind and resting gently on whatever the sun cast its delicious light upon. Dyami was taken back into a time he had struggled for so long to erase from himself.
A girl with her long sun-stained blonde pigtails flapping about her, smiling as they laughed and giggled and chased after each other in the playground. Sand spilled over the tops of their shoes, dribbling down and soaking through their socks, gritting against their sensitive child-feet. A woman, kind and loving and faithless, called them over. An ice cream vendor whose smile seemed strained and his body tired. The soft grass beneath their tired little bodies, smiles still unwavering on their now sticky-sweet faces and the sky as bright blue as anyone could imagine it.
A night, the little girl’s hair was up in a bun, now, a white ribbon wrapped tightly around it, tied into a sweet little bow. An audience, and her little body was leaping awkwardly across the stage with others her age, all smiling and ecstatic. Other, older women floated across the stage with practiced grace and guided them to where they must be. Children and adoring adults and friends sitting in the audience, smiles painted across their millions of lips and the music mixing well with the pretty images portrayed by those wonderful, wondrous dancers.
A carnival, the bright lights of multiple brilliant colors blotting out the stars that would usually dot the midnight black sky. The little girl tugging on his hand, stumbling over her very own feet, cotton candy wrapped tightly in her small little hand. The kind, loved and loving woman was just behind them, easily keeping up with their pace. She wanted to go into the haunted house, and only he could save her from those horrendous creatures that were created to introduce the youngest of the young and most innocent of innocent into that seemingly abstract world of fear. She clutched her small body against his, jumping and eliciting short, sharp screams that echoed through the heavy and humid atmosphere of the overused haunted house. This was happiness.
“Get away from me!” the boy half-shouted, sunflower eyes wide in fear.
Dyami woke up out of his reverie, leaning back and silently, calmly, studying the boy’s frantic face. Avoid those eyes, he reminded himself repeatedly, and instead examined his flawless skin, the way his nostrils flared every time he breathed, and those soft pink lips partially opened in his fear. Finally, he smiled, letting the happiness roll off him in waves. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Eoin.”
Slowly, tentatively, the boy slid his soft hand into Dyami’s.
It was on the third floor, surprisingly, and as the door opened, a waft of faintly peach-scented air breathed against the two young men. Still slightly nervous but wary of the stares he’d been getting on the short walk to Gladys Apartments. The buildings were slate gray with mildly off-white highlights and trimming. The green lawn was smartly edged with concrete, the gray sidewalk that turned dark in the night and rain which, as you reached the stone steps that led up to the main entryway, was surrounded by neatly trimmed bushes.
Dyami’s sitting room (it was multi-purposed, he said) overlooked the playground and, beyond that, the city streets and buildings to the west. Eoin was made to stand (“Don’t get that mud on my furniture!”) while Dyami disappeared, and so he leaned against the remarkably large window, his forehead resting against the pane while his fingers tapped it lightly. What am I doing here? He asked himself, incredulous. I don’t even know him. This is so stupid.
“Here you are, kiddo,” Dyami’s voice broke Eoin out of his almost-thoughts. The boy turned around, and he inspected his ‘savior’. In the silence that had been created by Eoin’s reluctance (refusal) to move from a spot he deemed safe and comfortable, (really nothing to generate that thought), and towards Dyami. Moments passed. Finally, Dyami shattered the glassy silence with the shift of his weight and the sounds of his feet stepping across the gray carpet. In his arms, Eoin inspected, were garments. One soft, white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose gray slacks.
“Here ya go, kiddo,” Dyami pushed the garments into Eoin’s arms, “The bathroom’s over there to your left, second door. Don’t go into that third’n.” Eoin left him without responding.
Master’s voice had started out calmly enough, but had gradually sunk into something harsh and undignified. Master was serious, Master really, really knew what bad things would happen to Him if the Master High Lord found out what he had done. Something bad.
“Yes, Master,” the demon’s alluring voice joined the other sounds, the sounds of screams and agonizing pain.
“Good,” Master sighed, sat down, and leaned back. His eyes, once again hidden by the shadows of forever darkness, looked to nothing and at everything. Shell sat at His feet, watching the darkness with Him, trying to find the allure and the wisdom that Master seemed to find in it.
Together, they sat like this for several hours. The other demons passed by quietly, so as not to disturb them. Shell wanted to go and play, to go and talk to them and ask them if they knew what Master found so fascinating about the darkness that surrounded them on all sides, but she dared not. Master would be furious if she left Him. He needed the company, although Shell didn’t know why. She didn’t question it, either.
Master was Master. That’s all that matters.
Suddenly, He stood, glaring out into the darkness and loudly declaring: “We’re going out. Shell, grab two more and let’s leave this damned place.” He turned away, fading into the shadows so that no matter what they were or how hard they tried, they would not find Him until He wished to be found. Giggling, Shell did as He bid.
Master stepped through first, disappearing into the haze of gray that clouded over him. Troubled, Shell let out a startled cry and leapt through after him. It was a curious experience, definitely one to be repeated. First, something damp and cold and clean-but-not-clean clung to her body. It pulled her through and the gray surrounded her, and she couldn’t see anything because it was so thick. But it was so exciting. She was being pulled along, faster and faster and faster until finally it shoved her out to the other side and she fell flat on the floor. Her laughter rippled through the air, and she looked up to Master. What she saw startled her.
The light of the mortal world struck His features differently, and He seemed more mortal. Regardless of the deathly aura surrounding Him and the black wings protruding from His back, He seemed at home here. The darkness of His hair wasn’t as dark here, and when the light kissed it in just the right way, it glinted a dark sepia brown. His eyes seemed so much more heavenly here, the gray and green pulling more color from the stone ground and green things growing on it.
Master took long, quick strides over towards the rusted door covered with green, and then He wrenched it open…
He tossed his body above the clouds and into the piercing sunlight, embracing the rays with more than loving tenderness, and then dove back down beneath the clouds, carelessly floating over the city and then made his way to a park nearby.
“A movie. Go put those things you call clothes on the kitchen table- those shoes and socks, too- and come and watch it with me. I’ve got popcorn and everythin’.”
“Uh, all right.” Shuffle-shuffle-shuffle. Scrape-scrape. Shuffle-shuffle-shuffle-sigh. Sit-sigh.
“Y’don’t have to be all down about it,” Dyami threw a piece of popcorn at his guest, “Jeez. It’s not like your in some fuckin’ concentration camp.”
“What movie is this?”
“Sean of the Dead. Some British movie about zombies.”
Eoin looked to the screen, “What the hell are they doing?”
“Well, the only ways to kill the zombies are to destroy the brain or cut off the head or some nonsense like that.”
“So they’re looking through records?”
“Exactly.”
“…That’s stupid.”
“It’s awesome.”
“This is horrible. Why are you even watching it?”
“Suddenly comfortable around me, Eoin?” Dyami grinned.
“Shut up,” Eoin turned his face away and studied the wall.
When they were concerned about their roommate’s car keys, a loud, screeching cry pierced through the air and sharp talons struck frantically against the glass. In! In! In! Danger! In! Dyami! In! In!
“Lovely?” Dyami lunged for the door, pulling it aside and quickly falling out of the way as she flew inside, feathers falling onto the ground and frightening Eoin as she landed on the perch she never used. “Lovely? What’s wrong?!” He shoved the door closed, locking it.
Danger.
“I know that, Lovely. You told me. What kind of danger?” Her unpromisingly golden eyes pierced him.
Demon God.
-on God!
Aute snapped his head up, snapping his mind in gear, searching for the source. It came much sooner and much stronger than he had anticipated. And something was there. Something… strong. His fingers had been curled around the plastic-covered metal of the chain that connected the rubber swing to the metal bar above, and now they slid upwards so he could pull his body out of the swing and back onto the ground.
Safe here. The same voice whispered in secret, trying its best to keep away from him. Aute almost smiled. Safe. Boy?
Something was said in reply, judging from the pause, and so Aute expanded his range to include verbal words. “-Eoin. Lovely, what’s wrong?”
Bad. Danger. Boy leave.
“I’m not going to make Eoin leave, Lovely. Tell me now what’s wrong.”
Demon God! Close! Danger! Away, away!
“The Gods don’t come above ground, Lovely. It’s probably just some high-ranked demon-”
“Gods? Dyami?!”
“-looking for his Power.”
So that’s where it was coming from. Aute pulled himself into the sky, turning slowly and searching for the source. It was an apartment complex barely a block away from the playground, the third floor. There was a window, revealing a living room beyond the glass. Life. He could feel the life there, he could feel it bounce and reflect and soak through the walls and windows and objects and people.
Strong.
And suddenly a very mortal mind was pushing its way towards Aute’s. Innocently, strongly, curiously. Aute almost, almost returned the favor with a fatal blow to the mind, but instead, he smirked and he returned innocent curiosity as well. The Seeker seemed surprised, and brought up a kind, gentle warning to not get any closer, otherwise someone would get hurt. He wished Aute a Good day and withdrew slowly, so as not to alarm him.
“Harmless enough, Lovely. It’s just scared, is all.”
“What the hell are you talking about?! What the fuck is that bird doing here?!”
“Relax, Eoin. It’s no big deal.”
“You’re talking to a goddamn bird!”
Mean.
“I know, Lovely. I can’t do anything about that.”
Kill…? The ‘voice’ said in whiny temptation.
“I’m not killing him, Lovely,” he sighed, “Do you want to leave?”
No. Danger.
“Whatever you say, Lovely…”
Regaining his altitude in the sky, Aute beat his wings before propelling himself towards that energy source, curious.
Danger!
The energy was there, just beyond the windowpane, and Dyami slowly turned to see it when Eoin gasped and Lovely squawked. His breath stopped in his chest, when he saw that winged creature.
The black of his silky soft hair was turned brown when the sunbeams touched it, and the sun seemed strangely familiar against his unbearably pale flesh. One hand rested lightly on the glass, earthly real. In fact, he would have only seemed humanly beautiful if it weren’t for the vast black, feathered wings protruding from his back. They gently swayed in the light breeze, one or two stray feathers fluttering off.
Danger!
“Please,” his voice was quiet, soft and soporific, “May I come in?” Dyami’s eyes were drawn to his face, and those orbs proved to him that this was no God. No God had those human, tormented gray-green eyes that promised salty sweet tears so soon to come.
“Of course,” Dyami’s voice was too rapid, too quick to speak. But he didn’t notice, because that insanely innocent and harmless person couldn’t possibly do any wrong. Not when he looked like no other Demon. Like no other God. He pulled the door aside, and Lovely immediately fluttered out, at first to attack… but then she swerved off her course and soared into the sky. “Sorry about her. Lovely’s being weird today.”
The stranger smiled gently, “No harm done… ah…”
“Dyami,” he smiled and gestured wildly to the still-timid boy behind him, “This is Eoin. What brings you here…?”
“My name is Aute,” he stepped inside completely and shut the door behind him. He smiled, and it was a smile that was filled with pleasantries and the kind of good you’d hope to find in people. “And I am looking for a place to spend my Today.”
“You’re today?” Dyami grinned, gestured to the couch, “Where do you come from, Aute, to desire such dreary company as ours?”
“Ah,” Aute relaxed, sinking into the couch. He crossed one leg over the other, and slung one hand over the arm of the couch while the other rested limply beside him. “You see, I haven’t been out in this world for a few centuries,” his gray-green eyes flickered between Dyami and Eoin. Suddenly, Dyami grew wary. “And I was hoping that maybe I could escape those nasty creatures that turned me.”
“Turned you?” Dyami resisted the urge to tense his body, forcing his muscles to relax and his appearance to be that of someone that didn’t have anything to suspect. “What do you mean, they turned you.”
“Ah,” Aute ignored the question, turned his attention to Eoin. “Eoin, is it? May I take a look at you?” Unafraid, Eoin strode over to the second guest, standing directly in front of him and looking down.
Demon God.
‘He can’t be.’
Demon God.
‘It’s not possible, Lovely!’
No. True.
“What’s this?” Aute’s gentle voice wrapped around the room like a ribbon would wrap around a gift.
“A ring,” Eoin responded.
“It’s very pretty,” Aute traced it with his index finger, “Might I look at it?” His index and his thumb took a fast hold on it, and he waited. The room was silent, tense and Dyami knew that something was wrong. Eoin’s bottom lip quivered, his right hand curling and uncurling in and out. The air grew heavy, like stone, and it settled on them like a thousand weights.
“No!” Eoin shouted abruptly, “No! Don’t ever let them have it, Take this. Don’t let anyone touch it. It’s yours! Don’t ever let them have it, don’t ever let them have it.”
‘I know that energy,’ Dyami realized, ‘That’s Sybhyl! It was Sybhyl I saw dead with my own two eyes!’
“Ah,” Aute withdrew his hand, “I see. Sit down, Eoin?” He pat the cushion, but his left hand snaked up to pull the boy down on top of him, so that Eoin was sitting side-saddle and his face was close to Aute’s. Eoin panicked, flailing his arms and crying aloud.
“No! Stop! Please, I’ll be good! Please, no! NO!!”
Aute’s arms, surprisingly strong for how frail they seemed, held him fast. “Ssh, Eoin. Ssh. No one’s going to hurt you, Eoin. Do you hear me?”
Eoin screamed.
“DO YOU HEAR ME, EOIN?!” Aute’s hands dug into Eoin’s flesh, although not hard enough to break the skin, “Quiet! Do not cry when there is nothing to fear! I won’t hurt you!” Eoin’s screams lowered to half-hiccupped whimpers. Aute’s hands caressed his skin, now, “I won’t hurt you, Eoin. I promise you. I won’t hurt you, darling.”
‘Darling?’
“I won’t hurt you. Ssh… relax. Relax…” and after a few moments, Eoin’s arms had wrapped around him and his eyes were closed as he nuzzled against Aute’s neck.
Bad.
“Tell me Eoin, darling, what is it that you fear?” Eoin pushed against Aute’s neck, against that soft, pale flesh. “…Tell me,” Aute’s soft, alluring voice whispered. And it promised safety, it promised comfort. It promised everything.
Demon.
Only demons promised everything.
“Th-they hurt me,” Eoin’s voice whimpered, eyes still tightly shut, “And I don’t want them to. I say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… but they don’t listen to me! And then they… they…”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Them,” Eoin’s voice had darkened considerably, and now it dripped with malice and evil. “I hate them. I don’t want them to touch me. I don’t want their sticky, dirty hands on me. I don’t want them inside me!” Dyami saw his eyes snap open, and they were hazed over and neurotic. The color had darkened, and his skin was cold and damp.
Outside, it had darkened suddenly. The sky gray, the clouds that weren’t there before were heavy with rain. The wind intensified, howling and driving dust and leaves in to the air and pounding against everything else. Branches swayed, people struggled against the forceful wind, and the creatures that thrived in the summer’s sunlight turned to the hiding places for those summer storms.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Something rapped against the windows, against the walls. It tapped against the floor and ceiling and the furniture until it went from one uniform sound and turned into crazed drumming.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Eoin’s eyes were watering, and crystal clear tears dripped down his cheeks.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Aute’s foreign, beautiful body held Eoin, concentrating on the boy. Why?
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Something invisible was crashing down upon them, now. Something dark and evil and bad, but Dyami found himself dumbfounded and unable to conjure up the simplest of tricks to prolong his life. Death was sure to come, what with this ominous, toxic energy.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Was it all a mistake? Was it all a mistake to bring in his ‘own kind’ when they were lost or scared or just plainly and simply needed help? Was he only responsible for his own life?
Rat-a-tat-tat.
Could he not do anything for others? Couldn’t he help the world?
Rat-a-tat-tat.
What of Lovely? What happened to Lovely?! What if she had been caught by the gusts of wind and then pounded into some skyscraper?! She wasn’t (physically) strong enough to handle that!
Rat-a-tat-tat.
“…Aute…?” he heard his voice mix with someone else’s. And when he looked back to the stranger, he realized that he had spoken with Eoin unconsciously. What’s going on?!
“Yes?” Aute’s hands had returned to where they had formally been- draped across the arm of the chair and limply sitting on the cushion beside him. His gray-green eyes flicked back and forth between Dyami and Eoin.
“What’s that?” Eoin whispered, his voice lust-filled and breathy.
Aute paused, “What’s what?”
“That. That…” Eoin’s hands fumbled against each other, “…feeling. It’s bumpy.” Drool dribbled down his chin.
“Bumpy?” Aute feigned surprised interest, “Ah. I see what you speak of. Do not worry, they’re harmless when I’m near.”
“What… do they want?”
“Ah,” Aute looked to Dyami, his gray-green eyes glinting darkly and his aura shifting from pleasantly neutral to maliciously evil, “They want me back. You see, I left for… a vacation of sorts. I must apologize later.”
Rat-a-tat-tat.
“Vacation?” the word confused Eoin.
“Mm-hmm. Away from home.”
“Where d’ya live, exactly?” Dyami put his hands on his hips.
Those gray-green eyes glared, now, “Far away from here. Much to far to travel to, I’m afraid. It was dreadfully awkward getting here in the first place.”
RAT-A-TAT-TAT.
Eoin’s hands wandered around Aute’s throat.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT.
The glass vibrated against the shadows pounding against it, but the pane stood strong. Suddenly, though, ‘they’ pounded against it, and small fracture lines began appearing on the window. Whoever ‘they’ were, of course. And then there was a final-sounding thud and seconds later the glass shattered all over the carpet. Shadows slipped inside, hiding their true forms from the light and sliding against the walls.
“Get Eoin out of here! I’ll hold them off!” the standing mortal yelled quite bravely, and then his human, threatening eyes turned to look at Shell, Bother, and Hatchet.
Like they should, they stayed still as they were trained to.
“What are you waiting for?!” the standing mortal screamed, “Get him out of here! He’s not stable! Any fool could see that!”
And then Shell turned her eyes to the boy sitting with Master, instantly jealous. And He wouldn’t meet her eyes, which was accepted because He was Master. But it still hurt for Master to like the company of these bad, dangerous humans more than Shell. Shell loved Master. The standing mortal half-turned to see Master, and Hatchet lunged at him, ready to pull him apart.
“No.”
Master’s voice rang clear and strong and powerful. It slicked against their skin and their minds, forcing them into their willing obedience. Hatchet fell back against the wall, morphing into it and hiding from the light.
But the human understood differently.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! He’ll be killed! You said you needed some place to hide and-!”
“I never said any such thing.”
“You said you needed to escape-!”
Master laughed. And it was the laugh that Shell liked. The one that had come from being demon. It was dark and menacing. It was a laugh that even the High Lords couldn’t reproduce, for they had never been human. Mixed with the insanity of being alive for longer than any human should, Master was the true demon.
Master was the real Hell.
The mortal in his lap jumped in surprise, but simply held himself closer to Master while trying to escape what he feared. The standing mortal stepped back in surprise, eyes widening in fear. He swerved to stand away from Hatchet, even farther from Shell and Bother, and then remembered his mortal friend.
“Give him to me,” the mortal voice was pleading, trying with all its might to keep the malice and menace in it. “Give him to me you goddamn fucking bastard!”
“Eoin, go stand by that corner over there. You’ll be safe.” Master sent the sitting mortal- Eoin- to the corner where Shell stood. She had heard Master say ‘safe’ as ‘safe’, and she knew that she was supposed to keep His new little pet safe. So she would.
“What the fuck are you?!” the mortal screamed.
“Dyami, don’t worry,” Eoin’s blank eyes smiled at the other mortal, “Everything’s fine.”
“I am but a tortured soul, Dyami,” Master smiled pleasantly. Shell shivered, pulled the mortal boy closer into her protection. Shell knew that tone. That tone meant hurt. “And I think… no, I know you know what I truly am.”
“Lovely-!”
“Yes,” Master straightened His sleeves, “That hideous creature of yours knew all along,” He laughed His happy laugh, “And what fools mortals truly are!”
“You can’t be a demon!” Dyami screamed again in his stupid denial, “Demons are ethereal! They do not appear as mortal as you do! You look… alive! I feel that I could break you in half within seconds! Demons are no such creatures!”
“I was not born as this thing,” He snapped His head back towards His wings, “I was not born as a God of Demons! As a God of Hell!” He calmed Himself, “And my loyal servants are who changed me…
“They chose their God smartly… Don’t you agree, Shell?” Shell poked her head out of the darkness, enjoying the gasp of horror from the mortal opposing Master.
“Yes, Master Lord Aes. Yes!”
“…Aes…?” the mortal paused, thinking. He regained his composure. “Those are the creatures who killed Sybhyl! They killed her!”
“Who…?” He paused, “Ah, yes. That mortal girl with that Power the fools failed to capture for me.”
“No creature could have killed her! She was too strong! She wouldn’t have been destroyed that simply! That quickly!”
“Calm down, Dyami,” Master hissed.
Bother slid out into the light, bring his twisted, mangled face close to Dyami. Before the mortal could strike, though, Bother let out a soft note.
And Dyami’s eyes closed, because the sound he was listening to was beyond musical. It was beyond wonderful and he wanted to believe that this voice belonged to something pure and angelic and wonderful. Bother’s ‘hands’ reached up and his slimy, broken and mangled fingers slowly wrapped around Dyami’s neck, the claws that were still there, stained with dried blood, and slowly pressed against his throat. All the while, though, he had been uttering that wonderful sound, that escalating and diminishing sound that promised heavens.
“Enough.”
As soon as Bother’s ‘mouth’ snapped shut, Dyami opened his eyes and tried to get away, but the sharp claws had dug into his neck just barely enough to keep him still. The repulsiveness of Bother’s face and the smell of his dead but-not-dead flesh twisted Dyami’s features and made him choke.
“These creatures,” Master said softly, gesturing Eoin closer. Eoin ran into his arms, nuzzling his head against Master’s chest, “Are more than capable. They are Hell’s Angels, and my enthusiastic slaves. These are the true creatures of Hell, the true High Beings… for they are more immortal than anyone shall ever be.”
And with a turn on his heel and fluttering of the wind, the five of them were gone and Dyami was alone in his apartment… the sunlight streaming down onto his face and the floor. It was warm and inviting, the wind had gone to be replaced by a friendly breeze. Birds chirped, and the glass that had shattered was now once again together. Outside, Lovely sat on the windowsill’s edge, rapping against the window with one claw.
The day was warm again… but Dyami was not… and he didn’t think that he would ever again be warm.
Aes: “Ay” or “Ays”
Aute: “Ah-uu-the”
Eoin: “Oh-in”
Sybhil: “Civil”
Dyami: “Dya-mii”