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Wings of Tainted Crimson (Raivh and Moonlight)

Raivh

Old dog
Joined
Jul 21, 2011
Blue and white lightning cracked through the clouds that concealed the moon and stars in the night sky, illuminating the earth and reflecting off puddles that pooled on the road. Thunder followed, growling menacingly at the town below, and ending in a series of loud booms that shook the foundation beneath homes and buildings. The howling of distressed dogs sounded in the night as sirens blared, emergency vehicles rushing to the scene of a suicide. A woman had been found lying cold and dead in a tub full of water. Her wrists were slit open and blue eyes stared vacantly at the open door, where her fiancé had walked in only minutes ago and frozen in place. Fear had consumed him first, and he’d shouted her name, shaken her to try and get her to wake from her eternal slumber. However, she was long gone, her heart and that of the child that had been growing within her for the past three months no longer beating.

Sitting on the couch in his living room, tufts of his short-cropped brown hair clasped between his fingers, knuckles blanched, he stared down at the floor. The police and emergency crew were kind to him and didn’t ask any questions about his deceased fiancée, or why she might have killed herself. Later, it the reason would be deemed psychosis, manic depression. Her mind, despite her body’s preparedness, hadn’t been ready for a child, but he’d insisted she keep their baby, that he would help her care for it. She’d seemed perfectly fine, happy about his reassurance when she’d come to him sobbing and scared of rejection, of what would happen to her.

“Brad,” his mother said quietly, then a bit louder, firming her tone to get his attention. “Bradley. Are you okay, son?” Taking a deep breath, Brad sat up and settled back against the couch. He shook his head, letting her know that he was just the opposite. There were no tears in his grey eyes, though both were red, as though he had been crying when he hadn’t been able to shed a single, salty drop for his dead fiancée.

“No, mom,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “But I’m very tired.” Sitting in the silence of the house, long after everyone but his mother and father had gone, the man finally got to his feet. “You dad go ahead and head home. It’s late, and I’m going to bed.” Kissing his mother on the cheek, he drifted off down the hall and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him.

With a heavy sigh, he sank down onto the end of the bed and kicked his shoes off. His eyes were glued to the window across the room, staring at the drops of rain that ran in rivulets down the pane. For a long moment, he sat like that, unblinking, before he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. A picture of his fiancée and himself set on the nightstand, and when he lay back on the comforter, he furrowed his brow, looking over her face. She was so beautiful, her blonde hair and blue eyes shining brightly, laughing in the picture because of something he’d said a moment before the photo had been snapped. Reaching out, he turned the picture around and laid it flat so that the image was facing the wooden surface, closed his eyes, and slipped into a restless slumber.
 
"Father, are you certain?"

She could read the unwavering tones etched on her Patriarch's face, but she couldn't help but offer the question again and again.

"There must be someone better suited for this, I-"

He suddenly stopped, forcing Phyna to take a step back, almost colliding most clumsily into his broad shoulder. "Daughter," he sighed, turning to cup her chin in his palm. "I would not have pressed this urgency onto you if I were not certain that you were most capable of the deed. Most certainly, you are young, but that does not mean I do not trust you." His warm smile and assuring touch did little to quell the aching fear that was surging through her small frame, uncertain of the responsibility that had suddenly been borne upon her.

Phyna was possibly one of the youngest angels to have been tasked with a mission on Earth. Most others had experience, or at least had been given time to silently observe other missionaries from the shadows before given a mission of their own. Phyna had neither. So when the council had passed down a notice for departure, she had understandably almost broken down into a nervous wreck at the thought of saving a soul on her own.

Her walk down from the heavens was fraught with worry. "Bradley," she murmured repeatedly, almost hoping the name would bring him somehow closer to her. They had informed her that he'd recently lost his fiance, not to even a freak car accident, but suicide. Fearing he was next to take his own life, the council had to urgently reach out to find someone capable of the job in short notice, and her Patriarch had recommended her.

"He believes you're a long time friend of his." they'd told her, patiently answering her endless labyrinth of questions. "You're coming from several states away to visit and help him get his thoughts back in order. However, while the job is entirely up to you," they had stressed, "you must remember that to sin would mean failure, and severe punishment as well." She had thought little of their warning, but now it echoed hauntingly in her mind. The Seven Sins - she uttered each one, eyes closed in reflection, as she descended silently into a world she could hardly predict.



It was fitting, she grimly supposed, that she had arrived amid a torrent of desolate weather. The rain swept carelessly across the pale of her face, as she shivered in the unconsolable wind. She looked down to realize she was no longer wearing anything familiar, but a thin sweater and jeans, and assumed the duplex before her was where Bradley would be, and quite now unavoidably - home.
 
Dark laughter rang out in the depths of Tartarus, the Fallen summoned to carry out another task. Demons circled him, but the crimson winged man wore an expression of painted indifference. These creatures of sin and death and fire stood no chance against one who had seen the light of the Kingdom and the flames of Hell. Pacing back and forth before him was Beelzebub himself, blood-red eyes flitting back and forth over the ground, debating the stipulation requested by his Fallen accomplice. Finally, after several long minutes more, the devil came to a halt and turned his head in Trenton’s direction. His expression was steely, untrusting. More than once he’d entrusted the Fallen with tasks that had never been completed in the way he’d intended. This particular angel’s innocence was something of great value to him, along with the information that came with it.

“You swear that after one month you can bring her to me, untouched, still pure and untainted, unlike…” trailing off, the Beelzebub looked to the massive red wings that stretched from Trenton’s back. With a wicked smile and a flash of his piercing green eyes, Trenton tilted his head to the left. There was something about the Fallen that riddled the devil himself a note of discomfort, which he masked with anger. “You will bring her to me. Untouched. With her innocence still intact. It is of utmost importance that you—”

“Oh, do not fret, my friend. You will have her how you want her, but you mock me in assuming it will take a month to gain her trust. Give me two weeks, and she will be an open book for your eyes alone,” Trenton replied coolly, running a hand over his short locks. The brown bangs fell down just over his eyes, and they shifted as he turned his head, watching the devil begin to pace again. When the man stopped, Trenton’s smile grew, and when he received a nod from Satan, the Fallen took off.

Landing on the streets of the small suburban town, his green eyes tracked the young woman as she walked. She seemed out of sorts, was out of sorts. The storm was perfect to hide the glow of her skin, but not to the trained eye. Staring at her as she approached the front door of a duplex, presumably the site of her mission, why she’d been sent to earth in the first place, Trenton donned a malevolent grin that sat lopsided on his features.

“Who are you?” Bradley asked, staring rather vacantly out at the woman standing in the rain. His eyes were dull, void of emotion, a shell of a man. “What do you want? Are you here to take the room downstairs?”
 
Bradley looked like someone who had nothing left to live for. She found his soul broken, and his eyes as hollow as his heart, and found it hard to meet his gaze. But she brought a smile on her face, determined to kindle at least something in his heart as long as she was here. “Yes – Phyna,” she answered, offering a hand.

The seemingly miniscule amount of luggage she had been given, or for anyone else's benefit; brought, was surprisingly filled with everything she needed for a comfortable existence. And thankfully, she didn't need to eat, and all she thought of was a warm shower to rid herself of the frozen stigma of the rain that clung to her skin. The soothing steam did far more than anything to bring the rosy color back up to her cheeks.

She didn't know at first how Bradley would react to her presence. However, she made every attempt to wheedle something, anything that would be of benefit to her in the future. Little things, something to get him to peer out of his shell. It was hard to find a proper balance between being a bit too nosy, and simply asking to be nice.
 
A grunt was all he gave her in way of a response. His eyes were dull, listless. Notice had been received earlier that week that someone would be showing up to take the room. Stepping back, he said nothing more and stared past her as he allowed her to enter his house. It wasn’t a home anymore, just as empty a shell as himself. He didn’t stick around to wait for her to settle in, and went to bed. There wasn’t any aspect about her that captured his interest. There wouldn’t be a woman alive who would ever be capable of making him keep his gaze locked on her, unable to look away.

--

With a deep breath, he stepped up on the porch in front of Bradley’s duplex, having witnessed the woman be let in. There was a lackadaisical smirk painted across his features, a flash of intelligence and his wicked nature in his eyes. He slipped inside, past the door without unlocking or opening it, and went in search of her.

(It's short. I’m stumped. I don’t even know where your character is or what she’s doing.)
 
(Sorry about that, my post was sort of vague, as I wanted to make a sort of opening for you to introduce your demon.)

--------------

Bradley seemed utterly inconsolable. His straight beeline for his bedroom and the echo of his shutting door made her wince inside. She had possibly a painfully long month in front of her. Trying to coax him out of his stupor wouldn't be as easy as she'd thought. His heart bled visibly, the depression almost seeping from the pores of his skin.

Phyna attempted to explore all there was in the cozy little duplex, albeit the fact it had been strewn with the remnants of Bradley's grief. She spent time familiarizing herself with the kitchen, living room. Simple things here and there, such as the elusive light switches she found hiding behind furniture or shadows.

But the moment she found herself nearing the front of the house, her blood ran cold, the subtle pump of her heart jumping to a wrench. A sort of twisted presence sent her instincts into near alarm. Although curious, she was cautious about whatever had so suddenly invaded her privacy.

"Hello?" she murmured, quietly. The eerie shadows cast by the sole lamp that illuminated the room did nothing to help her nerves.
 
“Hello,” Trenton echoed, strong chin turned down as he stared at the top of her head. He loomed behind her, aware that his sculpted figure was as intriguing as it was daunting to women.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, securing her against him, he placed his free hand over her mouth in a firm grip. His large crimson wings were concealed, hidden by the powers that he possessed, and the urge to unfurl them was strong. When his lips parted into a toothy sneer, he opened his mouth just enough to nip the hard cartilage of her ear. Oh, she was a very sweet treat, so innocent and pure.

His breath poured out in a gentle whisper against the shell, caressing it in a most sensual manner, and the arm he had around her waist moved. “Your heart, it beats swiftly in your breast. Do you fear me?” The laugh that spilled from his lips was throaty and dark, a sadistic chuckle that more than hinted at his corrupt nature.
 
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