#cryxangel

ill tag: @nipponjpg, @cryxangel, @glamkitty, @ravioli-hime and @creamy-san

     “I don’t want to dirty my hands with something as filthy as you are. Nor am I brute who forces himself upon others and I would have a bastard’s hands cut off if I heard someone from my army doing such disgusting acts like you demons. Here I figured with my refusal to your proposition that you’d take advantage yourself. I suppose even you know when to not over step any boundaries.”

     “Do it yourself if you want to be tied down so badly. Maybe then I’ll give a second thought to your proposition. Or not, considering you’d probably enjoy that you sick twit.”

Hurts.     Her lungs filled with blood, throat torn to resemble     gaping jaws. She was practically choking to death     on her finest feature, vocal chords now useless     and only serving to bring her end faster. She     smiles weakly at her dearest brother, wheezing     quietly as she reaches out to stroke his cheek.

     It hurts. It hurts to breath, walk, more. But she     still had her duties, and was doing them near     robotically. It was hard enough to think, so     when she heard her brother’s voice, it took     her a moment to respond and look up at him.         ❛ . . . There’s work to do. ❜

     How long had he been asleep? Jeez, it’d     been a while. Poking and prodding did     nothing to get him up, so she eventually     just rolled him out of bed and let him     startle himself awake. She bent down to     his level as he blinked awake, and kissed     him atop his head. Time to wake up, brother,           ❛ Awake ? ❜

     No. No. Nonononono.          She’s trying to plug up his bleeding wounds.          He can’t be saved, but she tries. Tearing out          fistfuls of her feathers and jamming them into          the wounds futilely, trying to stop the bleeding.          But, it didn’t work. And she held him close,          sobbing freely. He was like her brother.          Her dearest brother. Without him...          It wouldn’t be as light anymore.          She hums his favorite song.          He’d like that, yes...          ❛ ... Goodnight. ❜

     “What are you doing here.” The question is more of a demand as the devil’s ears lower, mocking that of a cat in a defense mode, ears pressed against it’s head as it hisses.