#wastedexorcist

@wastedexorcist​ 

           ✮

                              ❛❛ Dude, trust me, it’ll be fine. Just trust me on this. ❜❜ He says, lightly elbowing his friend hard enough to make all the crosses he wears jingle. He adjusts the shopping bags he’s holding, platforms almost putting him at eye level with the pseudo-priest. ❛❛ You don’t gotta worry about a thing, they aren’t a prep if that’s what you’re worrying about. ❜❜ 

@wastedexorcist

Brenda had been trying to read to get her mind off it. The house she had inherited from that kind old man was quite the great gift. There were many precious things he had bequeathed her before passing on when she was but a girl. She was grateful for it, and she remembered old Mr Bronev fondly. However, there was one thing that gave her pause.

It was a grand piano. The shell’s wood was a deep cherry red, and the keys were of fine ivory and ebony. It was a beautiful instrument. So much so, she felt quite drawn to it. She knew how to play, of course. But whenever she’d sit at the piano and play she just-- odd things happened. She lost time, she felt dizzy and confused. She had at first thought it must have been because of some sort of problem with the gas piping downstairs. But even when she opened the windows, she’d still end up the same, and always after playing the piano...

She had tried to put a dust cover over the piano and forget about it. But sometimes, when she was distracted, she’d find herself wandering close to the instrument, and once had gotten so far as to lift the dust cover. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she didn’t like how the piano was making her act. So she tried to read a book to not think about it.

“...But I can’t sell it.” She lamented, putting aside the book she had only been looking at without really reading what was on its pages. “It was a gift.”

His eyes peer up from his book, a look of irritation in his gaze. “I seem to have forgotten what I agreed to ‘test’.” He closed his book slowly, setting it aside onto the red couch.

“If this is about My idiot pupil, kindly let me get drunk before I hear his blathering again.” He scoffs, taking a sip from his wine. Oh dear.

Well it’s 5 o’clock somewhere!

“Unless this is a personal visit? Then by all means take a chair and we can discuss why you came here.”

Those words were enough to cause his lips to curl slightly as he falls silent for a moment, swallowing back the jocose tone of his very own assertion, features somewhat furrowing during his thoughtful ponderations; There is plenty of indagations popping up but remain limited to his very own thoughts. Marshal’s final comment, however, manages to take a chuckle from his mouth, even if his sentiment is not quite the same;     ❛❛  Not quite ————— sir, ❜❜     eyes narrow ever sharp as what seemed to be innocent words poisonously slip pass thin lips, there’s infectious uneasiness on the pause he made, only to leave a bitter taste in his mouth while pronouncing the vocative.   ❛❛ Do I look like I’d be interested in that weak excuse of a soldier? I’m more interested in a General’s insights concerning this war. ❜❜   Hard to tell if the Apostle was actually being infected by the mocking tone of those words or just making use of a bit of sarcasm as the words were interchanged with a small laugh… Maybe it was just a way to prolong the talk a bit more.

He was wandering home from a night at the bar, he was pretty buzzed all things considered. He even had a stack of cash in his pocket from a drinking competition. Cross huffs, a cloud of air comes from his mouth and fades into the night sky.

A small voice pries him from his thoughts. “Hmm?” Cross turns back, spying a woman in black. “I suppose so, I wouldn’t neglect a beautiful woman protection against the darkness of night.” He smirks, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. Ah, his go to! “What brings you out so late? Did a date not go well?” He scoots aside, letting her walk next to him.

She’s relieved when the man agrees to scort her. He’s a bit of an intimidating figure, but she figures by the crosses in his person that he’s a priest or a holy man of some sorts, so maybe it was an indicative she could trust him. She would still be cautious though.

Lilith approaches with a basket hanging off their arm. the basket is filled with different wines.

             ✮

                                ❛❛ If anything happens to him. I’ll kill you. ❜❜ He states it immediately, silver eyes sharp as he stares his master down eye to eye. He’s tense, itching for a fight. He’s casual looking where he sits, hands interlocked and resting over his belly, like he’s simply enjoying spending time with his demon of a master. But those metaphorical horns are uncurling from his skull, smile full of sharp teeth and ready to bite down on the nearest body part and rip. He’s itching to let loose and show his master just how much stronger he’s gotten since he abandoned him in India. 

             ✮

                                 Bells jingle in a steady beat. Outstretched arms helping them keep their balance as they hop about. Another beautiful night, away from the prying eyes of the restless, drawn off their usual path by the scent of blood. The stiff hopping corpse stills at the opening of an alley, unnaturally blue eyes seeming to be backlit from the moon light. Shoulders crack as they lower their arms, slowly glancing about the alley. Nothing stirs, but the scent is strongest here.

                                 CRACK CRACK. Arms stretch out for stability before they come hopping down the alley. What an odd sight. To see a giangsi dressed so modernly, but Miku had to admit, skinny jeans and a nice crop top suited them well. 

                                  There’s a heavy beat of silence as the stop in front of the hidden frame of a man, joints cracking and protesting as they slowly lower into a crouch before him. Jaws open, sharp teeth gleaming faintly in the light of the street light. 

          ✮

                                       He snarls at the older man, lips pulling back to bare his teeth in pure rage. He’s at the end of his leash, stressed and tired, lashing out like a cornered animal. And in truth, he wasn’t that far off from being just that, a feral animal. His expression doesn’t seem quite right though, there’s too much of him in it, there’s little of the cold icy rage of Allen. It’s coming out as fire, active like a volcano and just as lethal. ❛❛ Then what the hell else am I supposed to think when you slammed a mallet into my head and abandoned me in INDIA. IN FUCKING INDIA. Do you know how many times I was almost mugged? The hell I had to go through to get back to England? You didn’t even have the decency to abandon me somewhere at least a little closer to Head Quarters! ❜❜

                                       His voice has raised in volume throughout his anger, hints of a cockney accent coming from behind his Queen’s English. Silver eyes full of anger it’s almost like they’ve turned to the painfully white gold of the sun. There’s only so far Icarus can go without his father to guide him, and this Icarus has practically made a 90-degree shot right into the sun, flying too fast to notice the glue has already left his feathers and the heat has burnt them to ash. It’s only a matter of time before Helios burns him as well or he comes plummeting down to the ocean below to drown.