#restlesspirits

‘Prettiest Man in Town’. Well, if that wasn’t a ringing endorsement. “Shut up and kiss me.” Yet, despite the order, the Ukranian grabbed Dor’s face and stole the kiss for himself. “Finger me,” he whispered into their kiss, taking the vampire’s hand and forcing it down the back of his pants.

It all makes sense and yet, Erik still giving the cause an optimistic perspective... That is until he’s attacked. At first, he doesn’t realize what is happening. Erik was being cornered and instantly, he reacts moving away from very purposeful strikes against him. The few humans -- he could tell by smell alone, the addictingly sweet call of their blood pulsing heavily influenced by the thudding tell of adrenaline -- are aiming for his HEART. It causes the vampire to panic as the slice of a silver bullet passes his skin, already aware he wasn’t going to heal properly given his diet, as he frantically pushes past the humans fleeing instead of fighting. 

Take a Stand | Starters

trail :   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muse’s  scars,  asking  them  about  it.

(reversing for funsies)

There was no movie to watch nor gossip to talk about this night. Kemuel instead rest against Ricky in the silence of the demon’s apartment, listening to his heartbeat and the slow breaths that accompanied it. Ricky’s fingers wandered on Kem’s flesh, running along the jagged ridges and discolored lines that marred his form from thousands of years of war, 'hunting’, and training alike. 

One particular scar drew Ricky’s attention. A long and deep mark that ran from Kemuel’s shoulder down to the middle of his back, crossing ribs in the process. Touching the mark itself was enough to tense up Kem; his throat tightened and the demon ripped his eyes away. He trusted Ricky, letting him even look at the scars affirmed it.

But, when Ricky asked where he got it, Kemuel’s mind hesitated. 

Trust was what would bring the two closer in their friendship and likewise the tool Ricky used to forge the fallen into a “proper demon” as he put it. Not answering or even lying to Ricky would damage that.

“I got it from another angel. He was trying to cut one of my wings off when we sparred. I thought he’d stop when the training ended...I had to burn his face and arm to escape. I’m lucky enough to be in one piece, as is,” his voice softened and wavered, words marred by hesitation and hurt. He gripped Ricky’s bicep, squeezing it to ground himself.

“Can we do something else?”

Nonverbal | [ACCEPTING]

[ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine 

Late nights were their thing, two demons meeting at an unholy hour to watch films or prattle on about life and its intertwined theme of misdeeds. The couch their preferred place of discussion, with one man beside the other akin to two peas in a pod. Kemuel was the one listening this time around, having nothing important to contribute.

Ricky’s voice carried on, warm and a little gruff here and there, but a welcomed sound to the pacified fallen. Kemuel’s eyes grew heavy, a symptom of lack of sleep. He’d been awake for just about thirty six hours, after his memories of Falling kept him up without any ounce of mercy.

One minute passes as darkness obscured his vision, each blink that followed required more effort than the last. Kemuel rest his head along Ricky’s firm shoulder, cheek pressing into bicep while hands settle in his lap. At this point, Ricky and he were accustomed to some form of touch. But this, falling asleep? Kemuel was too tired to even request staying the night.

The demon’s eyes fell shut and his body relaxed under the heat radiating off his friend and the sound of Ricky’s steady breaths. He drifted to sleep shortly afterwards, without so much as a peep.