#discoverforhumanity

    Heat.

Searing heat and light flashed cross her skin. Struggling to rise from where she had been thrown to the asphalt. Half her sight lost, the other struggling to make sense of her surroundings when glass frames lay scattered who knows where. Half her face was numb, save for the rising temperature that called her attention with every moment she lay fallen on the earth.

There was a crash. A car - she couldn’t remember the type ( did it matter ) that crashed to hers. A lucky strike, and a horrid result when the front rammed so hard as to knock her engine. To cause a fire.

Tossing herself away before the flames grew higher left a body with injuries she could not see laid bare in the dead of night. Almost a blessing her mind still worked well enough to know where she was. Almost a godsend that her phone was still functional to call out a number - as foolish as she was to call someone she loved before calling for aid.

“ I … Didn’t wake you, did I? ”

    Concerned for disturbing her friend over disturbing her life. What a wonder a mind was.

Another attempt to get to her feet, another failure that left her to fall back to the cold ground. Doing nothing to solve the flame that seemed not to leave her skin. Tears beading weak at the corner of an eye untouched. Amber grown blurry as she tried so desperately to see his face. Words full with as much strength as she could bring when her heart was ablaze. It wasn’t much.

“ Es tut mir lie - … I’m so, so sorry … ”

it’s a quiet evening,  hours spent gentle silence within his own apartment.  he doesn’t quite remember the last night he spent like this,  without responsibilities or worries or distractions.  it’s nice--  he gets lost in his own head,  sometimes,  letting minutes pass without knowledge of them,  but this this one night,  he doesn’t seem to mind.

he is curled up on his couch,  a forgotten glass of wine by his side & a book in his hands,  when the ringtone of his phone disrupts the quiet.  it’s jarring,  almost --  he glances at the clock.  late.  who would call him at this time ?  it couldn’t be work,  he didn’t know his colleagues to be night owls, so then . . ?  his phone rings a few times before he reaches it,  device left on the dining table to keep himself from being distracted by it.

calera . .

did she need something ?  he doesn’t remember her to have any plans this night . .  so why was she still awake ?

“  hello ?  ”  he answers,  voice quiet and brows furrowed.  she doesn’t greet him back.  i didn’t wake you,  did i ?  was she okay ?  he tries to discern the noise in the background --  rushing,  windy . .  was she outside ?  why ?  concern twists his features,  frame suddenly cold at the thought something could have happened to her.

“   you’re okay,  ”  he mutters,  but words are cut off by her apology.  what happened ?  why was she calling him ?  why was she saying these things ?

thick plumes of mauve poison discolor the sky.  pained cries of fallen soldiers and metal screeching of demons resonate for miles,  creating an orchestra most macabre.  he might already be too late,  but it does not deter him any--  with swift movements,  he speeds past men and women clad in brown,  facing his enemies head on.  it evaporates beneath the touch of his holy hands,  and with the first one taken care of within the blink of an eye,  he turns towards distant comrades.  the mark of a general decorated dark fabric clinging to his chest,  though he hardly needs the crest to prove his worth,  after such a display . .

Grey eyes gazed around the large entrance. Even for one who had more or less lived there for a while, it was all still so new. There was a difference, it seemed, between feeling and knowing. So long had she been content to be a bell, carried around with not attention paid as to how her accommodator got from place to place, that being faced with doing the same on her own was almost frightening.

Charity Bell spotted a new white-clad figure enter, seemingly unafraid of her. Though whether that was due to lack of fear or simply not having noticed the imposing figure, she wasn’t sure. Still, it was her best chance to get acquainted.

Carefully she approached the smaller woman, getting her attention before speaking.

❛❛ ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ ❜❜ Although the quote wasn’t his, Apostle already took possession of it, both as a way of reprimanding anyone with any kind of empty intent and as to prevent his own impulsive behaviour from taking unthought steps. Good intentions don't win war after all.  ❛❛ Keep that in mind when you try to offer any help. ❜❜

@bellwielder​ & @discoverforhumanity​ I know it’s like, super late but I finally did it. I did combine wings + flower crown but tbh I had the idea and ran with it.

Bonus (without writing):

WITHOUT HESITANCE,  a smile forms upon ashen lips--  even in chains he is a man of charm.  he straightens his back and nods,  words sounding like velvet as they spill from his mouth.     “   good afternoon, my lady.  i do not believe we have met before.  i would make my acquaintance,  but well,  i’m rather restricted,  as you can see.   ”     he lifts a hand to needlessly illustrate.

   “   TO WHAT DO I OWE THE PLEASURE ?   ”

@discoverforhumanity

“I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d hang around here,” The Akuma said airily. her words more truthful than the finder could know. She was a mechanical monster puppeteering a corpse, something meant only to destroy - even if she wasn't engaging in many acts of destruction nowadays.  This body was incapable of sleep, and so she wandered the halls at night, looking for some mischief to get involved in (or cause). 

Furrowed brows, a cool expression flicked his way before she reclined back on the train bench. Idle gaze pointed back as it was to watch the blur of a countryside passing too quick to commit to memory. Catching the faint reflection of her partner in the crystal clear glass just to release a sigh. In a faint light she could just about see why his words held merit - a child never chose how they were brought up. Or how their life would change once pressure was placed on everything they knew.

Yet his words still dragged a spark of annoyance from the young woman. A life not yet lost and proclaiming his losses all the same.

“ Most everyone here have their own tragedies, Master Boughten. I don’t need to hear all the details - ”

    Rumors spread far too quick in the world of finders for knowledge to go unknown.

“ But as long as you work to do your duty as an exorcist, then I’ll do my work with you in tandem. You’re not dead - not so long as you have a voice, a choice. ”

Make it your own before you toss it away to the wolves.

HE DOESN’T LOOK AT HER,  but he can feel her burning gaze,  despite the icy look she is giving him.  she is right to judge him---  it is rather melancholy,  isn’t it ?  such a sad,  pitiful thought.  yet it was a thought that had been lingering through his mind ever since his arrival at the order.

                        IT WASN’T THE AKUMA ATTACK THAT KILLED HIM.  in truth,  it was his becoming an exorcist. 

      “   I KNOW.   I KNOW YOU’RE RIGHT,  BUT . .  you had a choice.  to come here,  be in service of the black order.  you could leave,  if you wanted to . .   ”    he lingers on the idea,  a concept almost utopian to him.  would cecil still be here if he had been given the option to leave ?  after everything he had seen,  why would he want to stay . . ?