Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

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 Let The Bygones Be Bygones, @Bolt/Dani | November '17
Dec 30 2017, 02:30 PM
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Yuu would defend this in a simple way.

He’d just wanted to say hi to an old friend.

Bolt, he remembered greeting the man just a few moments back. Bolt as he popped up behind him and stabbed him through the mid-section with a dagger that wasn’t made in heaven. Neither in hell. But it borrowed enough from their power to stay the victim on mid-world. After all, Bolt did have a rather nasty habit of wanting to fly off.

Tut.

When Yuu just wanted to talk.

And so talk he would right at this very moment, approaching the man as he continued to back away, as he continued to

Escape.

Yuu hated that.

But he continued to smile at him as the night progressed, as black as a depressing day. As the foot-falls of his steps across the sidewalk rang on with the small and foreboding power of an approaching death wanting you to prick your ears to hear better. He could see a building loom behind them. He blessed, in a way, these busy streets, this busy place. How you could walk on the street as loud as a room full of children wanting lunch. As loud as the blonde-haired soccer mom standing in line in front of you, asking for a manager now.

And then you turned the corner and though the street noises didn’t die, they faded. They were a ghost around them. A surrounding, breathing power of conking horns, speeding vehicles, murmuring people and the sea of other clangor that slapped Yuu’s ears with the trying power to be heard.

His eyes, however, were on his companion.

“You shouldn’t try to run when someone wants to talk to you,” lilted Yuu, approaching him with a smile. With such an easy-going expression you can't have doubted he was having fun.

Someone was.

Tucked between buildings and through a spidery web of labyrinthine alleyways, their confrontation unraveled like a yarn ball stolen by a cat. Only one man was approaching another, and the ‘another’ man continued to try to leave him.

Shame about that wound. Hard to heal, Yuu had heard?

He saw the blood.

He chuckled.

“Don’t run, friend, I only came to talk.”

And his eyes glared all red and his smile all cold and great as the moon hugged the blood on his arm, and made it look dark.

This was the second time he’d put something through Bolt. Come to think of it, perhaps this was his subconscious mind telling him he should ask him out.

... Maybe.

... Another time.

He gripped his unholy dagger, tight.

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Jan 2 2018, 12:41 PM
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Every time.

Every damn time.

There had not been one time that had passed where he had bumped into the damned demon with out something going into his body= and not ina fun way either. Hand through the stomach, ripping an eye out of his head, and now a damn dagger through his stomach. As much as Yuu was claiming that all he wanted to do was talk, the damned demon just came in and stabbed him in the back.

So much for talking.

He started to stumble back out of the way the moment that he felt the dagger pulled from his back. For a moment, he stood there, looking stunned before glaring over at Yuu. "Really? Fucken really?" he snapped at him, hissing his words out through his teeth as he started to back away from him quickly, holding where the wound was. His first instinct was to try and teleport away until he realized the kind of dagger Yuu had used.

So, he rolled his eyes and tried to back up and leave out of the situation. His past few experiences with Yuu, and talking had not ended too well and it made him want to make sure that he got out of the situation as quickly as possible. Nothing could go well if this was how Yuu opened it up.

Shit, any other time and the demon would usually try to start the conversation in some way before he started to just stab him. This time, he seemed to skip the pleasantries. How kind of him. The Seraph managed to get a few feet ahead of him, though even without his angel abilities he probably would have had good idea on how to get away from Yuu- he had been a street rat. At the same time, the wound did hurt or sting a bit more to slow him down.

He could hear him state that all he wanted to do was talk. "Aye, talk by stabbin me. Ya know, I thought you'd be over the whole stealin' from ya thing by now. Aint like I picked you on purpose. Nothin personal at the time." he hissed out, turning to face Yuu as he slowly started to back away from him still. The Seraph stepped on to the Church Ground, hoping that might be enough to keep Yuu at a distance while they talk.

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Fucking really?

Yuu could only smile at him.

Pausing for a second, Yuu let the wet waste caught onto the edges of the dragger to drip onto the ground below. He smiled at him, sharply, half entertained by the man and taking no long time to confess, “Indeed. A bit unusual?” Stabbing someone to talk always was. Nonchalant, however, Yuu walked on, as though he’d not noticed yet that the building looming behind Bolt was such that caused his kind to balk.

He progressed on, tame seemingly, just here for chatter. His appearance, at least, try to bestow similar.

And he talked--

“I didn’t want you to leave. You always teleport.”

And then, Yuu stopped.

Standing still at the very borders where the consecrated ground began, he faced Bolt with the same calm, obnoxiously so grin nothing in the world could wipe unless Yuu himself. He fixed his gaze at him and eventually mocked a sigh of exasperation.

He chuckled.

“And now you hid once more. How unfair.”

There was dark humor in that retort.

Strafing left, he walked along the perimeter of the spaces for a moment, to and fro pacing like a rapid, nervous animal. He wasn’t nervous. Not obviously, of course, merely facing his conversational partner with a touch of weary amusement, like it was so very typical and puerile of Bolt to seek the comfort of places where Yuu stepped not. Even though he could have. The power guarding these spaces would burn him, there was nothing but agony to expect if he forced entry (in the home of god), but he could, technically he could, free to torture himself if Bolt didn’t satiate. And Yuu dragged his gaze over the ground across to Bolt, muttering a wry--

“Shame.”

He cocked his head at the man.

“I wonder what would happen if I could step in this place.”

But he couldn’t. Not as a man free to walk it like Bolt.

Yuu facetiously lifted his foot and swung it forward.

What he expected was for his skin to blister. A flash of hurting and him screaming.

What happened was silence.

Yuu stood on the consecrated ground with one foot in, the other still out.

And slowly, he looked down.

And then, he stood, two feet planted on the holy ground.

A demon in the house of god.

All of his smiles and words had gone.

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Jan 7 2018, 09:42 AM
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Bolt rolled his eyes at the comment he always ran. "Oh, I don't know. That might be because you have a nasty habit of just stabbing something into my body every time that I have tried to speak with you." he huffed at him. He crossed him arms over his chest and watched the demon as he came closer. For a moment, the Seraph took a cautious step back, not believing that the demon would be able to cross over into the lawn.

"And I feel like it is totally fair when you come behind someone and stab them." he hissed out at Yuu through his teeth, clearly not at all happy about that. Sure, he was already starting to heal, but it still did not feel too good. Besides, he had enough to worry about with his father now returning, he had hoped that Yuu had gotten bored of him. Maybe.

He snorted some and rolled his eyes at the comment. Honestly, he doubted that a demon such as Yuu would be able to cross over into the sacred ground. Not after all the stuff that he had done.

So, when Yuu actually was able to cross over onto the property with out feeling any pain, Bolt's eyes went wide as he stared at him. "What did you do?" he blurted out, not able to think of anything else to ask. Bolt looked as stunned as the demon as slight panic seemed to suddenly appear in his eyes.

Who could blame him?

Consecrated ground was the only safety he had from Yuu.

From the demon that had claimed he had wanted to talk before shoving his fist through he stomach and grabbed his spinal chord. The same demon that found him in the bookstore he frequented and cornered him with some kind of trap only to ultimately yank out his eye. To this day it was hard to tell if Yuu had only given him his eye back because the Archangel had appeared or because he truly had just wanted to rip it out to see what had happened. And then this bastard stabbed him in the stomach to talk- and do what else to him.

Consecrated ground had been what had allowed Bolt to get some kind of sleep the past few nights when he became concerned that Yuu or his father might be doing something soon. Yet, here the man stood. Looking as shocked as he was, yet otherwise perfectly fine. "Seriously?"
he hissed out, not able to help that.

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Eien
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Yuu was quiet. All of his conversation with Bolt, the mocking, the taunting, the harsh and apparent cruelty had faded to a distant, far background like a thing of the lost past. He stood on a hallowed ground and it took him a while to speak up.

What did you do?

That was the problem; everything to have stepped here and not gone up in flames in a moment. Yuu was quiet.

Thinking this over, he couldn’t act or think of a seeming moment. Bolt’s presence felt distant, just as distant as their conversation, and the blade with which he had stabbed the man began to burn with a cold power. Yuu looked at it. His chest seizing with guilt, he frowned and discarded the object behind himself-- a throw that sent it skidding across the ground in a clattering noise. He didn’t look at it any longer. Feeling responsible for it in a part, like it would get picked up soon, if not by him then another mean person who liked stabbing others by means of opening (and ending) conversation, he urged himself to collect it later, to find it, and bury it like a horrifying treasure. This conscious worry was a bother. Loud and persistent like your best friend saying to drop that poisoned glass. Yuu clenched his hands.

Shit.

With a sigh he looked behind him where the dagger had dropped, and he summoned it back into his hold and there it disappear in a puff of smoke. Summoning canceled. He turned his gaze back on Bolt, in a foul, foul mood. Both. Yuu’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know,” he lied, his forward steps slow, even cautious. Premeditated, like he’d sighted his target once more and if the above was foolish enough to let him to walk into his home, he’d rape it with murder. But Yuu stopped.

His eyes, bereft of their usually vapid kind touch, were pinned on the seraph in a hard, unhappy expression, perhaps blaming him for the situation. When he spoke, his tone was low. And crisp and to the point like anyone just telling the instructions as they needed to be told.

“We both know what it means. Surely it’s not here that you will begin doubting the intentions of your God.”
His brows furrowed. It would almost irk him that you only needed to earn their Lord’s approval to shock that smug look right from their faces. Yuu offered Bolt a pale, and empty smirk.

Surely it’s not upsetting you to you,” he mused, bitterly amused. “It is your Lord’s will-- it is not in your power to doubt it.” A dilemma posed, maybe.

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Jan 13 2018, 07:35 PM
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Bolt was stunned.

He was angry.

He was confused, and he certainly was not at all pleased to see Yuu able to cross the sacred ground after stabbing him in the stomach seemed hardly fair. It was slightly rewarding to see the dagger suddenly be released. It was a bit surprising, but it almost made the Seraph angel relax as he noticed. Perhaps the demon would not actually attack him, which would be a nice change of events.

That thought quickly changed when he saw Yuu try to summon the dagger back towards him, only to have it appear to vanish in smoke. It made Bolt a bit surprised and his eyes went straight back to the recently unarmed demon. The look had gone from surprised to rather angry, a look that the Seraph was a bit too familiar. It took more strength and will power than he would like to admit to stay where he was, lifting his chin up in an attempt to convey more confidence than he currently felt.

Running wasn't going to do anything at this point.

When Yuu started to almost mock him with the rules of the Angels, he could not help but narrow his eyes a little at him. "While I might not be happy with whatever He has chosen to do, I assume He has his reasons for it. Even if I don't get it. He has to, else I wouldn't be here. You and I both know that." he told him almost bitterly. Even if he was angry and confused, he was not going to let the other twist him into losing any grace. At least no more than he was sure had already happened over the past few weeks.

Must've pissed someone off at any rate.

"I might not get it, and I might not be happy, but I am going to trust He knows what He is doing." he told Yuu, making sure he maintained eye contact. He was not lying. It was going to be hard, and it was truly a test of his own faith, but he was going to try his damnnest to believe that there was some reason for why all of this was happening. That there was a reason why Yuu was forgiven despite all the harm he had done to him personally and to the others.

It was hard.

But he was going to try.

He even took a step forward towards Yuu, his eyes narrowing some as he tilted his head to the side. "Well, you wanted my attention bad enough that you stabbed me.. So what is it that you wanted to say?" he asked.

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Jan 14 2018, 07:47 AM
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Yuu just chuckled at that. He found humor where it wasn’t meant.

“Touche,” he soothed, and slanted an amused look at the man. “One would think you’re simultaneously convincing yourself and working something through. Is that so?”

He almost felt the scolding look of God at those words. His skin burned for a second, nothing he’d dignify with a jolt though it did pull his brows together briefly and angled his head up, where he was sure this God was. He watched, Yuu knew for a sure, and the sudden rise of temperature had been the warning of above that for this gift, He wanted Yuu to focus on more pressing concerns than the shouting of his demonic blood.

He was here for a reason. He had a purpose. This holy place had been opened to him and Yuu didn’t doubt for an instant if you tossed another man in his place, he’d burn and scream here Yuu stood on the spot, intact. It really was the God. But why?

Why did the man himself want Yuu aware that the path of redemption was something he predicted? It was nonsense. If Yuu were the type to believe that you could grab a pint with God, he’d think Justin had borrowed his divine presence for himself. And then talked his ear off how hell wasn’t for Yuu at all, the infamous slut to his own whims as he had been called, and one of the world’s strongest and weakest both. Too much of a subject of his hate to the place that was an actual given, considering that nobody really liked hell. At least, Yuu didn’t recall anyone who ever had. His hate, however, cut deep and personal. He was sure Justin had made this known to God at this imagined meeting, during this unlikely conversation, until the God had bowed and made a miracle happen.

Yuu would have preferred to become alight like fire. He wanted to burn, he wanted the holy fire wrapped around himself, singing his skin raw until he was but a faint shadow of his former self. Burned to his meat and wobbling his way forth with some hint of his ole elegance. He moved, now, walking towards Bolt-- smiling, slowly, as he realized the man had chanced a step, too.

What an amazingly bold move of the angel. Yuu smirked. And with this smirk and the hint of hell behind his features, he stood himself in front of the man, his arms seemingly loose by his side like kids incapable of raining pain though perhaps Bolt’s lower abdomen would claim otherwise; a wide, open wound that Yuu wanted to rain even now and here.

“Well,” he began, “a proof perhaps that I am not fit for this redemption.

“I am a creature of hell.”


He shot his hand out like he’d pierce it through Bolt.

It was stopped.

And Yuu cringed--

“Why?” he asked, as white, searing fire appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around his arm.

“Why?”

An invisible power had stopped his hand. It would have found a way through Bolt otherwise. He was sure of that. He faced the licking flames instead as they rose to wrap around him like a chain, before melting away and on his knees he sank. Into this hard, and unforgiving land that refused to burn him, and the little singing he’d sustained was gone in a moment.

“Why?” he asked again, his gaze up. And with the same accusing look he was sure Bolt hid in his stare, he looked up at the sky like the only one of them who could dare to doubt.

“Why?” he asked God. “Why must you suggest that? I am not for this redemption you offer.” He looked pointedly at Bolt. He’d have stood up if he had the strength. If the gaze of God didn’t keep him kneeling like a praying man. It made him hate the soil.

It made him hate the world.

It made the hell in him want to deflect this hold of God, and the Devil’s soul in himself jerked to and fro in defiance against this grasp. It hurt his face. And Yuu, with a difficult in his gaze, stared at Bolt--

I took your father’s soul. I made him a demon. I gave him every means of hurting you that he never hesitated to act on.

“I am the cause of the misery of your human vessel.”


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Jan 14 2018, 07:19 PM
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Bolt made no comment to him. There was no need to. It would just be giving the demon more power than he deserved. As far as the Seraph was concerned, the doubt that might be present was between him and Heaven. There was no point in denying any feelings that he had since he was rather certain that God would be able to identify them. It was just not something he was going to allow the demon to hear.

It was not his business anyway.

He watched the demon as he walked closer to him, watching as the other started to approach him. It was nerve wracking, especially because he swore he could feel the familiar look on the demon’s face. It looked like the other was angry. Sadly, anger was something that Bolt was used to seeing anger flash across the face of those around him.

Sadly.

His eyes narrowed back, still keeping his chin up as he stubbornly stood where he was as the other moved even closer. That familiar look that he had seen when Yuu had stabbed him in the stomach. His eyes watched as he started to take a step backwards in an attempt to distance himself from the demon when something appeared to stop his movements. However, something else appeared to hold him in place and Bolt realized he was supposed to stay there.

Hopefully it all worked out.

As Yuu’s hand came close to his stomach, Bolt’s eyebrows went up as he shifted his shoulders.He had to trust that God was going to keep him safe. That was all that the Seraph could do after all, other than tense his stomach muscles in the best attempt to try and protect his stomach. He could almost feel the fist get uncomfortably close before it suddenly started to light up in pale flames and wrap around Yuu before dragging the demon to his knees. It was surreal to witness and it made him feel almost uncomfortable.

All at once, Yuu appeared to almost melt. It was discerning to see such a strong demon go on his knees and shifted his shoulders some. For a moment, the Seraph turned his head in some kind of attempt to allow the demon some form of privacy. It felt awkward to watch the demon question God. The conversation was so personal.

Bolt looked over towards the church in an attempt to give him some kind of privacy and shifted his weight some. It was hard to block out hearing the demon try to counter God who had decided it for him, but it was what he assumed Yuu should have it.

It was not until the demon started talking to Bolt directly that the Seraph suddenly turned to look over at Yuu. He looked over to him for a moment, listening to him before shaking his head. “No. I mean, you gave him the tools to do that.. But he made the choice to do it. It was his choice to take your offer, he’s always known how to judge risks versus pay off. He chose a good pay off. You gave him the tools but he chose to use ‘em.” he muttered, making a bit of a face. Honestly, it was hardly surprising that the other had been involved with that if he were honest. “You gave him the means, but he chose the action. I don’t blame you for what my dad did. I might not like you, but I certainly… I don’t blame you. I blame him for his own actions. Not you.” he told him, looking away from him as he admitted it.

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Yuu expected a hit. A part of him wanted it. To see an angel weapon materialize in Bolt’s hold, a seraph, sharp blade glistening with the hunger for his black blood before it felled him him right through his middle. Nobody could deny that it was well-deserved. That the man who’d meddled so greatly with somebody’s blood, leading to a destruction of an entire bloodline because of a right for it he’d claimed due to having the power, deserved nothing more than a taste of his own actions. Yuu deserved to burn. If hell only didn’t hate fire and if he wasn’t adjusted to pain, perhaps he’d have suggested it himself. And given Bolt a torch to make him go up on flames. He would. Prattle on about the last time he felt the corps underneath his hands whilst the early sun burned down on his neck. It was a memory from when he was a human.

Yuu watched the man--

I don’t blame you.

Yuu’s face fell. He watched him, the words replaying in his head like Bolt had spoken in one of the rare few languages left on Earth that Yuu didn’t understand. It rattled in his head, doing so with every feeble power to damage the inner lining of his conscience like that which made him go full black; from his deep, ashen gray to full evil because of what was being said. His eyes filled with emotion instead, and widened.

And then, he felt wrath.

Down on the ground, holy and such, held down by the God who’d not let any harm come to pass, he looked down and scoffed out loud, a bitter, and upset sound.

“Why?” he asked, “Why?” It took him a while to look up.

“Why?”

His eyes, hateful, emotional, bore through Bolt’s.

“Is it because you fear your Lord’s retribution? Because you fear if you hated me and struck against me, He would punish you?”

He paused. It shook in his ribcage, his breaths, painful, and hard like a bullet he’d had shot at him such long whiles ago he didn’t even recall if it had been a primitive musket, or some AK-47.

He didn’t.

It rattled about, too, and Yuu found that his breathing was heavier. He watched Bolt with all the accusing upset of someone who needed this anger.

“Give me your hate,” he almost plead, and the weight of the God made him groan and collapse forward. He kept himself hoisted on the flat of his hands.

“Why?” he asked again, “Why?” But this time, it was in graver upset. His breathing was quickened.

“I’ve killed thousands, I've killed innocents,” he protested, a cry, perhaps more intended than this stupidly, stubbornly forgiving God than Bolt himself. Yuu closed his eyes--

“WHY?”

He hit the ground.

His black, poisonous presence tried to unfold out from him, fighting against the hold of the God that kept all of his power smothered and inside these limbs, these hands and arms, rendering him truly so defenseless in a proof that if the God wanted, they all ended. Hell and Heaven alike and their petty, life-long fight. Accusing, and angry, his eyes flaring with too much emotion, Yuu looked up at Bolt--

Why must your God insist on forgiving me?”

And his voice was as broken as it was confused.

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Jan 15 2018, 08:34 AM
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There was no explanation as to why Bolt chose to forgive Yuu when it came to his father. The man had been cruel in life and made Bolt’s life as a mortal damn near Hell. Beatings were almost a daily occurrence depending on the man’s mood. High expectations that Tybolt was certain his father had made in an attempt to ensure that Bolt never met them. The man would hold food from him, lash out, humiliate him… anything in his power to drag Bolt down.

By all rights, Bolt should be mad at Yuu. 



After all, wasn’t it more natural for a child to see their parents as saints and find fault with someone else when given the chance? 

So what was he doing?

Bolt could not answer anyone. He did not understand why he was so willing to forgive the demon for that part of his life. He could here the emotions behind the words. He could [i]feel[i] the hate radiating off of Yuu, yet Bolt just bent down and went on his knees and gently dared to put one hand on the demon.

He could not help a bit of a smile that spread across his face as a puff of air escaped his nose. “Believe me when I tell you, that does not come from fear of the Lord. I am pissed at you. I am angry that you keep fucking stabbing me and that you fucken seem to hunt me down like a cat just to toy with me.. but.. no, I don’t hate you for what my father did. My father made his choices. I made mine.” he tried to explain to him. “By your logic, I should be a bitter demon like him.. but I aint.” he said softly.

At the plead with hate, Bolt jerked himself back just a bit, unable to help it. It was so new and foreign it was almost more terrifying than being approached by a dagger with him. At least that felt natural.

Instead of giving him his hate though, Bolt just stayed where he was, on his knees in front of the demon who had terrorized him for a few months now- and apparently been a part of his childhood trauma. For a good moment, Bolt stayed put and allowed Yuu to have his moment. Let him protest and scream out to the God who had decided to forgive him.

Why the Lord had done that, Bolt was not sure. It wasn’t his place to try and figure that out…

When Yuu looked back at Bolt and asked him the question, all the Seraph could do was raise his shoulders in uncertainty. It was so unsettling to hear the broken cries of Yuu as he asked the question. Still kneeling in front of him, Bolt took another chance with out thinking.



Bolt was always stupidly impulsive.

With out warning, he reached his arms out and gave and Yuu a bit of a hug, more of a quick squeeze than a real hug, but the intention was there. It was clear. He leaned back away from him, but stayed right in front of the demon. “Look, I aint gunna lie to you, I dunno what you’re goin’ through, but I know it.. it aint easy.” he muttered, honestly unsure of what he could do for him.

Unsure of how to proceed, Bolt stayed on his knees in the grass to be there for the demon if he needed him. Oddly, nothing was holding him there now. Nothing was making him react to the demon like this. Nothing but his own choices.

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And in front of him, Bolt knelt. Why, Yuu wanted to ask?

Why? Like Bolt didn’t know he faced a creature of hell. Why, like there was only one way this could go now, and whether Yuu struggled against it or not, whether he embraced it or not, whether he fought against the angry reach of the blood in him, grasping angrily at the one Bolt’s body hid or he didn’t hate this, didn’t mind this, didn’t even appear to perceive the man’s presence outside of how the God knelt him, the most pious man on Earth you’d guess with the glued contact of his knees against the ground like they were a mother and her child.

Like whether it was this or that, it didn’t matter in the face of the only possible conclusion this could have: the death of an angel. And Yuu felt, perhaps, even if just for a brief moment.

An acute sense of fear he’d act to kill this man.

It’s native to me.

Demons being demons. He’d heard that maybe in hell. Justin's words echoed in his head.

You always have a choice.

Yuu lowered his head.

Struggle. His was shouted. A one-sided screaming match with the man up in there. The clouds were his home, was believed. Yuu almost teleported himself to heaven. He’d walk through its gates and burn as they all stared, a crispy and obdurate fuck you to the man. Because fuck you, because why let him on a holy ground, why stay a hand from causing gratuitous pain, why sabotage everything that had earned him the title that Yuu had never worn with a speck of pride, never treasured and never confessed to owning sans to his kin?

The Legionnaire. One of the strongest. He compelled armies. He could have summoned a million demons here and now and killed every human life.

Why?, then did God stay his hand, why?, then did it matter whether Yuu committed another horrid act? A stabbed abdomen or a stabbed head of this or another man, he would honor the blood in his veins, and that chunk of Devil married to his head.

He was a demon.

And he was a monster that resembled man.

And then--

“Why?”

It was like a whisper of a man who’d shouted his voice hoarse.

Why?

Why, really, did this man hug him, why did he attempt, why did he forgive? Why and oh all the why’s, why did the presence of the God lessen now? Why did it slip away, so light his body now. Why did it drop, gone, certain he’d not strike against Bolt--

He would.

HE WOULD!!

He put his hand on the man’s abdomen as he had before. So close to ripping through, so close to wetting his palm in the man’s bowels--

So close.

And yet just staring Bolton in the eye with a sense of defeat.

Yuu’s hand dropped.

You always have a choice.

I've had one forever.


He was silent.

Looking down, he uttered, “Let me go” his tone small, and yet the order in it unquestionable.

He stood up, then. And stood on these long, long two legs, looking down at the angel until he decided to stand as well. They’d stand there, then, a demon and an angel and the shining presence of God crawling along Yuu’s skin like a very warm hand. He didn’t say anything. Defeated, perhaps, he just stared at the man, visibly struggling to enhance his eyes with a lick of the hate that he just didn’t have. He just made a face of disgust and sadness.

“I see.”

And then, like that and in his damned puff of smoke and the smell of sulfur--

He teleported away.

--------------------
user posted image
Jan 15 2018, 12:58 PM
54
posts
592 Angel Artist- Commissioned
Seraphim
If I could live a thousand times. If I could make a thousand tries. Maybe then I'd get it right.
Heaven
Bisexual
Single
Bolt

awards

Innocent Thief
Dani
She/Her | Eastern | |
{{Winter 2018}}

Bolt had heard an odd sound off to the side of the park. It sounded akin to a wounded animal, which managed to draw his attention. It did not sound like it had been wounded by a larger animal looking for a meal, it sounded more like it was in some kind of trap brought to the park by man.

He rolled his eyes as he started in that direction, prepared to rescue the creature from the trap since it had probably been created by some punk kids looking for some kind of twisted amusement. Long gone were the days that humans truly needed to hunt for food, especially in a city like this. If it proved to be some homeless individual who needed food, then Bolt could help them. 

However, he truly doubted that.

Slowly, Bolt started to push through the park, wandering off the trail towards the noises he heard, stopping when he had gone off the path. He was hardly lost, but he could no longer hear the noise. When he went to take his next step, Bolt felt resistance against his feet.

”Fuck.” he huffed as he tried to jerk his feet up, his eyes narrowing as he went to try and get himself out of the tar that suddenly appeared around him. Even though he had never experienced one himself, he had heard enough stories to have an idea of what it was. The dark and sickening feeling that appeared to radiate from the tar below him was enough of a hint as well.

First, Bolt tried to see if he could teleport out of the situation.


It did not work.

He had not expected it to if he were honest, but he certainly was willing to give it a try.

”No, no. Fuck.” he hissed, his wings sprouting from his back as he tried to use flight to help get himself out of there. Large white wings flapped, slowly starting to lift his body off of the ground before the tar seemed to suddenly snap him back to the earth. He grunted in shock and discomfort as his knees were pushed down at the force as he desperately tried to keep his hands free in some kind of hope that he’d be able to get himself out of it.

Once his knees hit the tar, he grunted in a bit of frustration. His eyes looked around the park where he stood as he tried to think of a possible way out. It was hard to not panic given the situation he had found himself in.

Panic wasn’t going to help him.

Nor was staying calm apparently.

Another grunt came from his lips as he tried to pull his legs, now further int he tar, out. His head went back in a bit of frustration. ”Come on.” he grunted, more to himself than to anything or anyone around him as he put his wings back into his back, not wanting those exposed if he did get sucked down.

--------------------
user posted image
Made by Eien❤
Jan 15 2018, 01:18 PM
107
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
There was a bit of a delay between a gate being summoned and its visual manifestation. One was earlier than the other by a moment.

In short, when you saw the tar happen, you were already standing in its middle. It was just taking a while to show itself.

Loki did know why it worked that way-- the power of hell was poison, glorious and horrible, and Loki could confirm that if you asked, though you were right to never place the question. To pretend that the seeming, cutting innocence of his pretty, pretty young face was no concern of your need to appreciate the finer things that existed. He was not fine. He was not his appearance, the deceptive youth captured in face. If you did look however, and if you bothered to give it any honest thought maybe for your own amusement, you realized: he had died too young. Not even twenty years of age and if you buried your gaze through his you could make out the face of shock he’d made maybe when skewered through like some filthy fucking animal somebody later ate.

Nobody had. An unimportant fact.

It was best not to ask him how his gates worked was the point, this Bitch of the Devil himself as he was called, and who dragged his unsuspecting victim down despite their screaming and the wild need to be alive. Down down and down again to such depths of hell that its maze-like structure doubled, tripled down here on any man. Though the journey from the surface until where Loki stood wouldn’t take too long. A moment. But it would still fuck with the man dragged here.

Sinking feet down, when he did finally fall down here it would be upside-down by some odd display of the power of hell, where left was never left and only down existed. He’d hit the ground, but wouldn’t stir dust. There wasn’t any.

There was just that acrid, invisible wind you would feel, the hard jagged ground, the harsh fog all around and the creeping depressing sense of horror you felt sink down to the marrow of your bone. And then--

Just like that.

Bolt's body was lurched back, his arms spread out and his beautiful ribcage breaking open as well, ripped… literally open. All its ribs pointing outwards and his lungs and heart on display like a whore.

“Welcome to hell, pet,” came a voice from in front of him, and Loki stood there with that wan, eerie smirk, those staring eyes clad in everything cold.

And his human clothes and the appearance of someone all too unassuming to blame for any kind of hurt.

Loki lowered his head--

And his smirk, then, spread wider, his eyes filling slowly with dark until there was none of them left, a black that was split in the center by red. His crimson hues glared back, and Loki only said:

“Is this your first visit?”

His arm was out, showing how slowly he closed his palm.

Let’s make the memory last.”

And when he did close it, he crushed every bone in Bolt’s body and gave them the time to heal themselves.

And then time. Over and again.

For days.

A hundred days in hell and only one on the surface.

--------------------
user posted image
Jan 15 2018, 02:40 PM
54
posts
592 Angel Artist- Commissioned
Seraphim
If I could live a thousand times. If I could make a thousand tries. Maybe then I'd get it right.
Heaven
Bisexual
Single
Bolt

awards

Innocent Thief
Dani
She/Her | Eastern | |
When he finally fell through the gate into Hell, Bolt hit the ground with less grace than he would have liked to admit. A loud thud appeared to echo as his body smacked onto the hard rock. His green eyes squinted closed before he went to try and stand up. He could feel how wrong everything about Hell was.

Nothing was right and there was a level of surrealism that he had never imagined. It was unnerving and he certainly did not want to be here for long. If he had the ability, he would have already teleported himself out of the place.

But that wasn’t really an option, was it?

Not that he had much time to really consider any possible choice before his body was suddenly lifted in the air. He felt his arms go outstretched some kind of ironic symbol. Honestly, as a fellow artist, Tybolt would have enjoyed the irony. Unfortunately for Bolt, there was hardly time for that before he suddenly felt his own ribcage rip open and exposing parts of the body that should never be exposed.

Naturally, he let out a sound of pain, his face twisting as he tried to figure out what was happening around him. His breathing became slightly labored as he tried to calm himself.


It wasn’t working too well.


Especially when he saw Loki step out in front of him. It made him more than a little uneasy to see the Archdemon stand right in front of him while he was stuck in Hell. Any demon appearing in front of him was not something the poor Seraph wanted to deal with at this particular time. He watched as Loki’s eyes seemed to grow darker until they glowed red, and Bolt found himself looking up and hoping that he could some how get out of this. That all of this was some nasty dream.

When he heard Loki speak to him Bolt looked back towards him, giving a slow nod in response since he was not certain if the question was rhetorical or not. He was about to tell Loki that he certainly did not have to make it memorable- that he was sure he would remember it regardless. His eyes looked down at the hand and watched as it closed.

And boy did Bolt let out a cry of pain as he felt his bones crush inside of him. His eyes closed tightly as he leaned his head back. He felt his body mend and weave, trying its best to bring itself together again like it would any time he’d get injured.

Then he felt the bones crush again and another cry of pain.

After a couple of times of feeling his bones crush then mend, Bolt hissed out, “Please- stop.” the tone a shaky hiss as he felt tears go down his cheek. “I got it- the memory. Won’t forget.” he tried, doubting that the demon would stop because of a simple please. 

He was rather certain this demon was not going to stop no matter what, if he were honest. Might at least do something so the bastard would remember him somewhat, right?

--------------------
user posted image
Made by Eien❤
Jan 15 2018, 03:14 PM
107
posts
1975 demon assassin, pimp, information broker
archdemon
Mercy, mercy. Chains all wrapped around me, around me. Try to break free from the darker part of me. Mercy, mercy, please. All I see is a monster in me.
Hell
in love with his brother~
shipped & taken by his brother
Loki

awards

The Gatekeeper
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Did he rejoice when he heard Bolt scream like a stuck pig? Did he giggle, did he cackle at least in some part of him, not visible to the people watching, their popcorn abandoned and their eyes wide, staring? Did he? Or was it really so blase to him after these almost two thousand years of spreading misery he could have a man crying his lungs out and think---

I’ve had worse?

He’d had worse. And so even the sort of look he pinned on the other was cold and casual, a detached sense of nonchalance surrounding his person. He crushed his bones, simply, one after another with the invisible hold of his telekinesis that made them all shatter. And then, he let them heal. And waited as the other’s powers kicked in, mending them so so and enough that their user could look better than the rag doll he’d become without the support of his bones. And after.

He broke them.

Once more.

Crumbled them to splinters threatening to sooner stab Bolton than heal time and over. And he let him heal, once more. It took whiles between one step and another. Minutes of crushing-- long, long minutes of him turning some bones into delicate powder and scattering the particles of his marrow throughout his blood. And then hours of healing, painful all along if he sometimes sabotaged it mid-way through with another shattered bone. Rinse and repeat as the time went on. And Loki stood on the spot throughout the entire scenario, and watched.

With cold, aloof joy.

Please, stop.

He cocked his head.

No.

He did not.

Hours went on.

Hours of all this, rinse and repeat the driving motto behind every fucking minute, misery, misery, pain and miserable like bitch twins grinding against the angel until he was nothing. Nothing, but a glob of flesh trembling soon and then, forty hours since they began were finally over. Forty hours and many many go’s at his capacity to hold himself together until Loki, his presence since calm, quiet, sometimes, hands at his back as he strolled now and then, finally stopped and opened his mouth. He said--

“You do know… the once Archdemon, hm? Yuu. But he was known as the Legionnaire.”

Loki was without a smirk. His tone a flat, chilling monotone, he observed Bolt with a larger interest to pull him apart one bone after another than talk. Deciding that yes, he would indeed do that, he made a low tutting sound, the only kind of warning he’d dare to reach for before just like that, he crushed all the bones in Bolt’s arms once more. And wiggled them. All these many splinters became stuck in Bolt’s flesh, angling upwards until they pierced through and shot outwards, like passengers abandoning a failing ship just about to crash into the atmosphere of some deadly planet in a sci-fi setting. Just so, one cute needle-like splinter after another, Loki loosened all of the bones from Bolt’s arms, from his wrists, his fingers, and began working on his legs, leaving Bolt to casually slap on the ground. In the meantime. And he strolled, again.

With a cruel, and subtly amused light in his eyes like they were far.

Far.

Far from done.

“... How long do you before he’ll appear, sweetie?” he asked, and smirked.

The invisible currents of hell wheezed as all of the bones in Bolt’s legs became splinters.

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