Holy Naivete (TheRealHermione & GingerXX)

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by GingerXX, Aug 10, 2014.

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  1. The journey to Earth was a thing angels would talk endlessly about. The rush of wind, overwhelming feeling of humanity, and breath of new life filled each one with joy and wonder, no matter how many times they would travel there. To new angels though, it was like ambrosia.

    Arietta got her first taste on a cold winter's evening, the first snow of the season settling down into the ground. Nobles were dressed in the finest frocks money could buy. Happy smiles grazed each child's face as they tried to catch the falling snow. It was a scene like none other. "Brother.... It is wondrous." She whispered, still afraid that one of the humans would notice them. Gadreel had of course masked their presence, but she still feared of discovery. It was a child-like fear.

    "It is, isn't it? Humanity is Fathers greatest creation, even more special than ourselves." The blonde spoke with knowledge. He had been to visit Father's world many times, and each time, it amazed him more and more. They continued to walk upon the roofs of the shops that littered the main streets. No footsteps, no footprints were heard or seen. No indication they were even there. But some knew.

    "Thank you for bringing me, Brother," Arietta grasped his hand with a smile. She was still so overtook by everything she had only seen from heaven. "It was my pleasure, Little One." The happy mood evaporated as Gadreel froze. "What is it, Brother?" "Ssh," He put a finger to his lips as the sound echoed in his ears. In the blink of an eye, a sword flashed through the air, coming between the two of them. Arietta jumped back, her eyes going wide. "Gadreel!" Her head turned many ways as at least 10 men closed in on them. Who were they?"

    "Gadreel!" The young angel screamed again, fright creeping in on her. "Stay calm," He drawled out, unsheathing a sword of his own. It was a brilliant gold, flaming letters engraving every inch. Following his movements, she drew her own sword. Her's was a simple silver with silver engraving bordering its outer sides.

    At the sight of the swords, the demons attacked. Swords and claws clashed with fury, each side trying it's best to hold their ground. Gadreel and Arietta fought with the ease only an angel could have, swift and light movements mirroring a beautiful dance. The battle lasted only for a couple of minutes, though it seemed like hours. The last demon was brought down with a slash to the neck by Arietta's sword.

    She could feel sleep drawing her in before stumbling to Gadreel. "Are... you okay," her light voice came out in wisps, the cold air seeming to be chillier than earlier. He steadied her as she began to stumble before re-clamping a hand to the wound in his side. "I am fine. Do not worry." In her dreary state, she didn't notice his actions and nodded. Nor did she notice the two demons coming behind Gadreel till it was too late. "Gadreel!" The scream tore through her throat as he was drug away, his wings being held in his back by their arms. Her own set broke free from its cage, trying to set flight on the one's that took him.

    Before Arietta could attempt to save him, a sharp pierce cut through her chest. Pain spread through every inch of her, a stinging ache bringing her to her knees. 'Am i dying,' the angel thought. Blood trickled into the snow, creating a beautiful pink color. 'Is this the end?'

    "Leave the runt," one growled before motioning for the rest to follow where her brother had went. 'Wait,' No voice escaped her mouth. Just silence.

    The darkness enveloped her, the cold becoming one.
    #1 GingerXX, Aug 10, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Aug 14, 2014
  2. The air was chill on that morning, greatly so. Tzalmon -- who had been dwelling on Earth unnoticed for four months now -- noticed such briefly, passively, as though accustomed to it. Indeed, perhaps in a way he was, but the most likely explanation was that he was merely defiant to such arms of cold, intruders to the comfort of most. The temperature, in fact, is not at all the main source of his discomfort; jamming his wings into the back of his black trench cloak, mild discomfort though it was, admittedly provided far more annoyance.

    All the same, he treaded with caution; angels were about on that day, that much he knew. Even before he had left, Tzalmon had felt their very presence plaguing the town like filthy cockroaches plaguing and weakening the structure of all that is known, all that is valued. Of course, he could’ve set out earlier than he did for, ah, a bit of fun, but he had work to do before he could leave. A foolish human child had attempted to beggar his way through life at Tzalmon’s doorstep the night prior, despite the rumors encompassing his very dwelling. No matter, the Watcher decided passively. That stupid child had made a very fine specimen, a very fine specimen, indeed.

    Keeping his head low as he walked down the street, Tzalmon marveled at the sudden decline in the angelic activity he had detected -- one minute, incredibly strong, the next, almost too low to read. It was madness! Whatever could those creatures have wanted, anyway? Mind, their visits to this region were semi-frequent, yet something had almost seemed different at this visit… Though Tzalmon remained quite unsure why, he was also sure that they had somehow left behind one of their number. Either a Falling angel or a youth of the species, by the weakness of the signal, he decided briskly. Probably the former; after all, they would want to abandon an angel who was beginning to question their own loyalties, their very manner of existence in the Realms. The selfishness of those heavenly creatures seemed to know no bounds, abandoning their own kind instead of attempting to help them back into their holy seat.

    Not that he was complaining, though. It was always a relief to know another suppressed being had come to their senses to journey the path of freedom, independence, and individuality. It was a decision he himself had never the need to make. Born of Lucifer’s darkened magic, he was considered a demon since the beginning of his lifetime, save the instances where he had masked himself among human beings in the midst of intense curiosity and thirst, just like the rest of his dark brethren. Watchers rarely associated with each other; the closest they had come to teamwork was when they made a disorganized, vain attempt to destroy the ark of the bard and prophet Noah, and that was many, many millennia ago. And it hadn’t exactly gone as planned, either. Watchers were, after all, naturally independent. And that’s why they always avoided each other; they tended to remain in disagreement and disinterest with the others of their kind – it was just a part of their subconscious selves, an unavoidable part, at that.

    Even though the prospect of a Falling angel excited him and fueled his ever-present curiosity, that was by no means Tzalmon’s reason for being out and about on that morning of coldness. After having rid himself of the boy from yesterday, he had a few, ah, errands that he thought would be best to run. A new idea had sparked from within his entire being, his complete self. And he couldn’t wait to put it into action…

    Tzalmon stopped short as his internal “angel alarm” (for lack of a better term) increased ever so slightly, becoming more consistent than ever. Frowning, he looked around him, curls blowing in the slight morning breeze. Whoever could be the angel in his midst? he wondered silently to himself before his eyes fall on an unconscious girl that everyone else seems to overlook completely. Her hair created a curtain around her lithe body, masking her face from view. Frowning to himself, Tzalmon stepped closer to the small form, kneeling down aside her cautiously. Wondering why the angels would abandon a youth like this – for she must be the angel he had detected, as everyone continued to avoid her , as though she was not even present – he peered down at the girl with deep consideration. On one hand, it could be a ruse to lure out demons such as himself. On the other hand, if he decided to leave the girl behind, he’d be passing up the chance for an angelic specimen, something he had never before had access to. All the same, he didn’t wish to be inconvenienced with carrying the creature back to his home. So instead he merely carried the tiny girl into the alleyway, surprised to see a bloodstain on the front of her clothing. She had been attacked, he realized with a jolt. That’s why she remained behind. He hoped against hope that the girl would pull through her injury, healing herself the way angels can, if only for he himself to be provided the chance to satisfy his curiosity.
  3. Light. That was the first thing that registered in the young girl's mind as she came to. The light was a brilliant white, piercing through a darkness that seemed to surround her. It was beautiful, the type of beautiful you wanted to bottle up and keep with you forever. Too soon though it left, leaving only darkness.

    Fright. That was what the darkness gifted her with. It was the type that seeped into the very depths of your soul, staining it crimson. She could feel it all around, suffocating, squeezing her. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She hadn't.... had she? Why was she so scared?

    Her eyes shot open. She could feel a trembling, hear a wild thumping. It took her a second till she noticed it was coming from her own body.

    Wait. Was this her body?

    Everything came crashing down at that moment. She didn't recognize a single thing. Nothing of her surrounding, her location, or even her own body. The thoughts inside her head felt of some other origin. Were they? No. She was at least certain that she thought of her own will. But she felt weightless, like she wasn't even touching the ground. Along with that came a welcome heat, something her body seemed to crave in its shaking state.

    Those unfamiliar eyes took in though a strange thing. Her thin body was held by a stranger that was much larger than her. He possessed beautiful black hair that flowed down his back like a waterfall. It was so shocking against the whiteness of his skin, so white that you could see blue lines underneath it. The mere presence of him put her in a trance, a weird energy of sorts humming in her. It felt wrong, like it didn't belong.

    "What happened to me?" A light pitch rang out, her mind registering it as hers. It was obviously overused by the way it cracked as she tried to utter out a single question to the strange man that held her. Maybe he knew her before she lost her memories. Maybe he could help.
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