Light and Dark

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Psychedelic, Mar 2, 2013.

  1. The realm of the demons was not as chaotic than one might have been thought, there were strict rules and regulations that needed to be followed, and Claribel was a victim of this. She had been a good little demon up until one man had somehow stirred some feeling into her, other than hate and pride. She had taken pity on a target she had been assigned to, and had paid the ultimate price for it. Demons were not known for their lenient punishments.

    Claribel had been thrown into the jaws of immortality on earth, a place where loneliness would soon take any chance of happiness from her. The ebony haired girl had been on earth for hundreds of years now, and although she had fallen in with various bands of thieves and the odd psychopathic murderer, she had always been left by the wayside, either as they soon realised she was not as they were, or else when they inevitably died. For most demons that wouldn't have mattered, but for Claribel - who was certainly different - it hurt. She was alone, and reckoned she always would be.

    In the twenty-first century, Claribel had found a niche for herself, mainly just stealing what she needed to survive, and living rough. It was difficult to integrate into groups of rogues - they just didn't exist anymore - and so she flitted on the edges of society, living in utter solitude, apart from when she went out drinking, the one solace she had now.

    It was one night where the seemingly young woman stalked into a random bar, her black locks falling loosely to the small of her back, contrasting against pale skin. Ice blue eyes scanned the room, though she soon settled down for a beer, swigging it as cooly as any man. She was slightly uneasy, as she always was when in crowded spaces, but hopefully that would ease off.
  2. Ivan lightly sipped at his tea while he sat in a corner alone at a bar. He was single again and it had depressed him, more so of why rather than the solitary state itself.

    His girlfriend cheated on him! On him of all people! He is, well... was an angel for crying out loud! If anyone in her life knew the inner workings of a human body more so than he did, it would have floored him. He had given her everything she wanted! A place to stay, mind-blowing sex...hell he even saved up to get her a pearl necklace. How could she go and fool around when the world was at her feet?

    "Because she is a lady of the streets..." Ivan reminded himself, sighing as he took another sip of his beverage. He had found his ex shivering in a corner of Maple Avenue and he couldn't just leave her. Not with her big blue eyes staring at him so pitifully. He took her in, got her cleaned up and off of whatever assortment of drugs she was hooked on, and treated her like a queen. He finally felt like he was on the road to redemption on this miserable earth. But when he came home from work earlier, all she had left him was a long note and a pitiful 'Sorry.'

    No wonder Ivan was happy when he was made a soldier angel in heaven. He was overjoyed to have escaped the constant disappointments of humans. All he had to do was guard the gates and mingle with his fellow soldiers, and life would have been as simple as that. He was free to love whoever he wanted and not have to worry about promiscuity, flakiness, or a love rebutted so heartlessly. Most, if not all angels in heaven were empathetic towards another's romantic feelings. And if a relationship had ended, it was because they had grown apart. A sorry letter wasn't even heard of.

    But, Ivan had no one to blame but himself. He had to screw it all up. It was a misunderstanding, but Peter wouldn't have it. Ivan had killed a demon when he was ordered to simply restrain it, and was accused of murder. Soldier angels were known to occasionally snap, especially under the pressure of war when the gates were constantly being attacked. But Ivan wasn't like that. The demon he had to restrain was too powerful for it's chains. If Ivan didn't send him to purgatory, his own fate would have been no better. Yet, Ivan's story went unheard and he was banished to roam the earth as an immortal.

    And times like this, Ivan wondered if purgatory was the better option. Losing the dignity of falling from the heavens, giving up his sword and shield... In exchange for what? To be the manager of a gym in some city? Even if Ivan managed to return, his fellow angels would never look at him the same way again. He was stuck, and he knew it.

    "Bartender, another glass please." Ivan kept his head bowed as his mind became clouded with the memories he retained after his fall. His vibrant ruby eyes had died out in their luster from his current mood, settling with a deep burgundy. They were well hidden under his long, thick black hair that curtained his forehead whenever he ducked his head. When he grew annoyed at it's pesky cover of his vision, he put it in a low ponytail behind him, finally freeing his dark red face from it's shade.
  3. Pondering on the world at large, Claribel wondered how she would get herself through the coming years. She had been struggling for the last century in particular, finding herself ever more isolated from the humans that surrounded her. Demons were social creatures, contrary to popular belief. They fed off eachothers emotions, were always enjoying parties full of debauchery and general raucous behaviour. And when actually feeling fairly sensible, they were even known to chat to one another about thoughts and feelings. Of course, many used these conversations to their advantage later on, when they fancied forcing a comrade from their position, but that was beside the point.

    Now, here on earth, Claribel had none of that, and had withdrawn from society almost completely. Occassionally she would dip a toe back in, usually just for a night or two where she would ply herself with ungodly amounts of alcohol and go home with a random stranger, and no doubt show him a night he wouldn't forget, despite the mutual drunkeness. She was the perfect one night stand, it had to be said. Claribel was good at reading the emotions of humans - thanks to her demonic duty to manipulate humans - and so she always knew whether her partner desired her to be a crazy horny bitch, or else a sweet girl they could use and abuse. And perhaps more importantly, she was always gone by morning.

    Tonight, there were few candidates for a night of regrettable fun, until someone very surprising walked in. Immediately, Claribel tensed. She knew an angel when she saw one, mortal enemies had a habit of doing that. The demon felt a tightening ball twisting in the pit of her stomach as she deliberately stared down at the bar, trying to escape notice of the angel. However, it kept niggling at her, and after a time she simply had to go over and face him.

    Her once blue eyes were now a telltale black, brought on by the fear and anger that the presence of a soldier of heaven tended to bring up in any demon. She approached him confidently, though within herself she felt nothing but a fearful apprehension. Once stood by the angel, small body drawn to its full height, in a halfhearted effort to look intimidating, the demon spoke.

    "Why are you here? I have done nothing to warrant His attention, you have no right..." Her immediate conclusion was that a hunter had been sent to apprehend and perhaps banish her to purgatory once and for all. It happened, demons and angels on earth were fair game for either side, and angels were so self-righteous they often took it upon themselves to punish any banished demon that did too much damage to the human population. Claribel had hardly been a saint, but all in all, she'd been fairly good.

    The pale woman stood, jaw tightly set as she waited impatiently for an answer, glaring down at the man she believed to be her potential killer. It was also possible he was a rogue, working on his own for fun. It was common on both sides. The hate was so deep in some that they devoted their lives to destroying any and all of the other side, even if it resulted in their own dismissal from their realms.

    For now though, there was no violence, only alot of glaring on her part, "Answer me, you bastard." It was petty, and the man hadn't been given nearly enough time to respond, but Claribel had never been known for her patience.
  4. Ivan didn't drink alcohol.

    If the taste of it wasn't enough of a reason, the strange and often depressing side effects surely were. Ivan was a sad drunk, and he was a lightweight as well. One shot could make him morose about the meaning of life, two shots could make him suicidal. He knew he was more tolerant of alcohol now that he was an angel, but he still avoided it. He didn't need a bitter liquid to make him hate his life, his mind already took care of that. He could literally sit alone and his mind would take over by itself. It would drown out most outside distractions, dull his senses, and send him on a cruise through memory lane.

    Past mistakes would turn into exaggerated tragedies, and if the mistake was already on a tragic level, the self loathing would amplify. The bar was the perfect place for the teetotaler, almost everyone assumed that Ivan was drinking himself off the counter. It would be just him sitting in a corner, staring into the deep abyss of his dwindling tea while his voice became cracked and lifeless...

    No, Ivan didn't need to drink at all.

    " have no right..."

    A frail whisper managed to get through Ivan's near-deaf ears, and was almost forgotten about. Ivan's mind immediately assumed that someone was talking loudly, and that the conversation obviously didn't concern him. The voice was unfamiliar and the sentence made no sense, a simple distraction from Ivan's whirlpool of nightmares. And if he didn't return back to his cruise ride, he would miss all those wonderful times he spent up in heaven. So with another sip of his tea, Ivan worked on getting back into his hazy groove.

    "Answer me, you bastard."

    Ivan coughed up some of the tea that was still swirling in his mouth. That wasn't another conversation. Somebody was speaking to him. He wiped his mouth with a quick swipe of his napkin and turned in the direction of the voice. He expected maybe an angry customer from the gym, and fully prepared himself to rub off his aggressor. He didn't have time to argue, he was too busy wallowing in his own self-hate to take some heat from someone unsatisfied with their workout plan.

    "Ma'am I really can't- " One look at her blackened eyes and Ivan's glass shattered in his hands. Ivan didn't even notice her presence when he first came in. All he could think about was, what business did a demon have doing here? And approaching him so brazenly nonetheless? Did she seek to assassinate him? Hear about his fall and take his head to her master for a trophy?

    "As if I can't sink any lower..." Ivan muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet, standing over the short female demon with his enhanced height of 6'5". He paused his train of thought, caught off guard by her appearance. For a moment, he didn't want to continue through with the fight that seemed so inevitable then. Looking down at the demon, she looked..(if the heavens allowed for it to even be thought of)....beautiful.

    Her pale skin and stark-black hair was an eye-catching contrast and a refreshing take from the tanned blondes he blindly chased in heaven. And the look in her blackened eyes were more than a mix of fear and anger. He saw something in her that was mirrored in himself, and though he thought it was loneliness, he could not quite name it yet. But since it wasn't a emotion that sought violent action, Ivan knew that this woman was not out for him.

    Strangely enough, a spark of curiosity lit up Ivan's dark, cavernous mind. If she didn't want to kill him, and he had nothing to do but waste his mind away in a bar, maybe they could...?


    She would probably laugh in his face. Mock him for being a fallen angel, maybe even pity him, and have a story to tell back in her realm. Why have a name tainted in heaven when it can be tainted in hell as well? Ivan and his brain muddled together for a few seconds, pessimistic overlord battling a worn-out heart for a bloody outcome of-

    "Worth a shot. What's the chances of an angel and a demon being bored on Earth together?"

    Gathering pieces of his shattered pride together, Ivan stood up straight and patted his white shirt off of any dust that may have collected while he moped in his corner. With a nervous smile and an extended hand, Ivan tried his luck once more.

    "Hello, my name is Ivan. Mind if I buy you a drink?"

    Ivan ignored that they were supposed to be enemies. He hadn't harbored a strong hatred for demons, which is why he was confidence of his sanity on the battlefield. If demons never attacked, Ivan would have never seen their blood, or even thought them. And now that he was banished from his home, he saw no reason to develop a hate for them now. So for once, he wanted for this meeting of opposites to be normal. Just a man and a woman in a bar, pretending to not go for each other's throats.
  5. The shattering glass did draw some attention, but usually the people inhabiting a bar tended to know that keeping themselves to themselves was the best thing to do. So, aside from a little mumbling, there was nothing said about it. Meanwhile, Claribel stood, taking in this giant of a man. Although she was not an overly short woman, she certainly wasn't tall, and he dwarfed her. It was difficult to tell what his intentions were, but a very small part of her - that she paid zero attention to - thought those arms looked strong and comforting. But of course, that was neither here nor there.

    It appeared that this angel was either very slow, or else taking the piss. Of course, her previous encounters with these creatures of supposed good swayed her immediate thoughts, and it would come as no surprise that this demon reacted to this prolonged delay in an answer by visibly stiffening. Her jaw tightened as he fists clenched by her sides, her body almost quivering with the building tension that was brought on by a senseless anger, of which most of her kind were guilty. To be fair, angels were hardly the saints they so often claimed to be, they were just better at hiding it - or so Claribel thought.

    Waiting for a response, the disgraced demon pondered on her previous visits to bars such as this. She couldn't remember the last time she had approached a man. Usually it was the other way around. Demons were nothing if not alluring, it was part of how they convinced humans to sell them their souls. Even a butt ugly demon could find himself in the company of an extremely horny model if he played his cards right. Of course, in all honesty Claribel was not ugly, and she knew it. She'd struck lucky, and as a result, the combination of her demonic aura, and her all out good lucks, tended to cause men and women to shower her with free drinks wherever she went, and of course she always repaid them in kind.

    The last time had been a distinct dissapointment, and the few before then had not been what Claribel had wanted. Slowly but surely, the comfort she found in the heated touch of rough and demanding bodies was wearing off. Her last conquest had not even been satisfying at the time, let alone in the days and weeks afterwards. So, why had she bothered coming out tonight, anyway? She knew that random fucking wasn't doing it for her anymore, so why bother? Hope. It was a last ditch attempt at fixing herself before she lost sight of the future entirely.

    Claribel was rapidly snapped back to reality as the angel finally spoke, and he did not come out with anything even remotely expected. His proffered hand, devoid of all weaponry was somewhat disconcerting. She glanced down at it, as if he had just sprouted a tentacle. It appeared that it was now her turn to take her time in offering a response.

    His civility was not normal, anyone could see that. Perhaps that was why he was sitting in this distinctly average bar with no particularly obvious motive. He was either an extremely good actor, or else he was just killing time. It was by no means unwelcome, though Claribel was admittedly rather standoffish towards this handsome angel. Yes. She would admit it. He happened to be good looking, not that it meant anything, or so she told herself. It didn't matter anyway, she needed to get the nerve up to speak again first.

    Finally, after what seemed like an age, Claribel finally spoke, "I suppose not." Free booze was free booze, and that transcended all species.

    "I'm Claribel. Call me whatever, though." There were a few derivatives of her name, and it didn't really bother her what was used. In the end, most of the people she spent time with tended to just call her babe, or 'you psycho bitch' which could both be a compliment and a complaint, depending on the circumstances.

    Now hitting her stride, feeling ever so slightly more comfortable, her eyes began to fade from deepest black into ever lightening blue. "If you're not here to bring me to justice, then what?" She took the opportunity to pry into this strange ones life. To be fair, they were equally as odd as one another. Tolerating one anothers company was hardly normal, but it did not feel overly wrong. She even felt comfortable enough to sit, which she did so with a sultry grace, something that had always come to her easily.
  6. Ivan watched the demon ponder at his offer, already feeling his luck turn up. He didn't want to say that he knew she would say Yes, because then it would have been a lie. If she said No and pulled out a weapon to kill him right then and there, Ivan wouldn't have spared the situation a surprised gasp. But he did feel something when she looked at his hand.

    Ivan pictured a slot machine starting up to determine his night. The first 7 was the two finding each other, met with anger and disbelief, thought of as a tease to further disappointment. The second 7 was different. It was shinier, bigger, and held Ivan's nonessential breath. Nobody could deny the second 7, it was too large of an opportunity to bat an eye at. No, no, no. The slots demanded respect now. Ivan had to watch the third slot. He had to watch the demon's movements very carefully to see if she would end his luck there.

    "I suppose not."

    Third 7. Jackpot.

    Ivan watched as Claribel strode to a bar seat with mild disbelief. For a moment, he was simply standing there with his mouth agape. When he caught himself, he rushed to clean up the mess he made. The glass he had broken had cut into his skin, it created a sharp pain that faded into nothing as the self-inflicted wound had healed itself up before Ivan could fully notice that he had one. Using the same hand that was cut, Ivan collected the shards around the counter and put them on a napkin, not minding that he would have to pay for it in his tab.

    "Bartender, anything the lady wants." Ivan summoned the service before he began his conversation with Claribel, wanting her to be as comfortable as she could be. When he was met with a wary eye from the plump man behind the counter, Ivan carefully added, "And don't worry about the glass. I have full intentions to pay." Ivan could see the man calming down and was grateful that the bartender knew Ivan's face to not start up a shitstorm. He wanted to appear smooth, because first impressions meant a lot to Ivan. He wanted to gain Claribel's approval, because even if they ended up fighting, at least she could say that he was a gentleman at the start.

    When the bartender moved to serve Claribel, Ivan then allowed himself to answer her question. "I've been-"

    Ivan paused mid-sentence as he first noticed that Claribel's eyes had changed to a light blue. His heart clenched in his chest when he remembered his ex, and with a paralyzed brain that couldn't filter his words, Ivan automatically spoke without thinking. "- banished."

    When his attention came off of her eyes, Ivan realized what he had said. He didn't mean to be so blunt but he couldn't back down now. Taking his word back would only make him look like a liar. "I was a soldier and they thought that I had snapped. So they banished me." Ivan's head ducked down, feeling his shame come back with a vengeance now that he had finally told someone on Earth what really happened to him. He didn't feel as lucky now, but there was a wash of relief to ease him. It was nice to get it off of his chest, to finally tell someone who could understand exactly what he meant, even if it was met with mockery.
  7. It was never wise to give a demon a blank cheque, they weren't exactly known for holding themselves back, or showing any restraint when really they should be taking consideration of others. But Claribel would not take advantage of the angel, at least not in this context. There was little benefit in ordering an eye wateringly expensive drink, seeing as her tastes weren't usually suited to such silly and often fanciful drinks. So, she simply ordered a random cocktail that happened to have pears in it. She had always liked pear, an extremely underrated fruit.

    The glass had been forgotten by Claribel, up until the point her new companion mentioned it to the somewhat disgruntled bartender. She didn't know if she would have bothered paying the bill at all, for the simple reason that the demon anarchy in her needed to be fulfilled in some way or other, even if it was through the petty dispute of bills.

    Surprisingly, it was not this terribly immature way of operating that saddened her, it was simply her loneliness. It was a little backward for a demon, most of which took pride in their independence, and usually chose to hold others close only for two purposes. Copulation and killing, often at the same time. There were of course codes of practice and honour within this debauchery, and so most were careful about which of their rivals they chose to dispose of in order to further their own position. Even so, there were always ways and means of advancing ones career. It was all about ambition and a sly personality.

    Her attention turned to the present, and to this truly unexpected person. The chances of an angel and demon meeting by chance were miniscule, and the odds of those two not immediately engaging in a bitter battle to the death were even more ludicrously small. It was all but a miracle that these two had stumbled upon one another, and were apparently being rather civil to eachother. It was refreshing, even if it was a little odd.

    As the angel explained his reason for being on earth, in quite a blunt manner, Claribel nodded. A brief sense of sympathy flashed through her passive expression, but was gone in an instant. Claribel had no desire to fawn over this angel, he was a big boy, and could look after himself. And she would have liked to think that the same applied to her, though of course that was in no way true.

    A few minutes passed in silence, as Claribel stared into her drink, slowly rotating it with her delicate fingers. She let out a brief sigh, finally turning her head up again to look at the male, that even sitting was considerably taller than her. "Ditto." She said with a brief twitch of her lips, running a hand through her hair in a slightly nervous gesture.

    That was about the long and the short of it. "Failure was not an option, and I failed. We're not the most merciful of creatures." It was a stark view of her species, and really about as accurate as one could get in just one sentence.

    "So, how long has it been since you were prancing around the clouds?" She asked, feeling that making awkward conversation might be a good idea at the moment. "It's been about 600 years for me, give or take a few decades." She'd been thrown down here at around the end of the middle ages, and had experienced her first couple of hundred years with vigour. It had been a time of bandits and debauchery. Perfect for a demon. But then all that had faded away, along with her zest for life.
  8. When Ivan heard that Claribel was in the same situation he was in, he offered a small frown as sympathy. He didn't know how banishments worked in her realm, but he was sure that it wasn't as gentle as a process of what he had experienced.

    "Ivan, we cannot have you as a soldier angel anymore."

    "What? But I told you the demon was stronger than what his chains could restrain! Peter, I haven't snapped. I'm not like those other soldiers. I would never-"

    "Ivan, enough. I've talked to the council. We think it's best that you take a permanent leave."

    That was all the banishment was. A kind suggestion. A simple request. But Ivan knew as well as Peter that if he didn't go along with the request, the fall from grace would be that much worse for him. But as gentle as Ivan's banishment was, he still shattered like glass. Ivan could only imagine what Claribel's banishment was like. In fact, he was curious of it. He decided that if the two ever got to know each other better, he would ask her one day.

    When Ivan returned his thoughts to present Claribel, he continued to quietly listen to her, smiling goofily at her word choice.

    "Prancing? I'd hardly consider a soldier angel to be one that prances in the clouds." Ivan lazily flexed his biceps to show Claribel his physical prowess. Though the humans that went to Ivan's gym fawned over Ivan's body, Ivan knew that muscles didn't really mean as much to supernatural beings, if anything at all. But since he once prized his muscular build when he was human, he put a half-hearted attempt in showing them off.

    "And I have only been a soldier for about 60 years before I fell. Since the time that I died and the time that I served as a soldier, I could have been the same human on Earth. Strange, huh?" Ivan scratched his head when he thought of how inexperienced he was compared to Claribel. She probably knew two or three library's worth of information more than Ivan did, and that intrigued him. He learned a lot in the short time he had spent as a soldier angel, information soaked into him like a sponge. Even still, he never actively pursued to learn more. Instead, he spent a lot of time romancing the female angels and fighting at the gates. Now that Ivan was unable to continue in those activities, his interest of learning more had grown.

    But instead of trying to make Claribel his mentor, Ivan decided to keep the conversation light. "What do you do here? Did you find a job to occupy yourself with?"
  9. It was safe to say that Ivan's assumption of the demonic banishment was right on the money. The experience Claribel had suffered was the only memory of hers that she struggled to face openly. It had been a truly traumatic time, and as such, this was something that this particular demon did not usually reminisce on. In fact, she had not even heard a whisper of her banishment ordeal for what must have been a decade. No doubt, this was only thanks to turning a blind eye to the memory, rather than becoming at peace with it and therefore not feeling the need to look back on it.

    Moving back to the present time, in order to avoid any thoughts that she might later regret, Claribel couldn't help but allow herself a light smile at the angels' own expression. He was certainly a little more open that her, which was perhaps a good thing. Although the demon was hardly an entirely closed book, she was not known for her forthcoming nature when it came to her past. She would happily give vague accounts of her time spent on earth, or indeed in her own realm, but details were often difficult to pry from her.

    As this seemingly self-sonfident angel flexed his muscles, Claribel did the same, though it was fair to say that hers were hardly as impressive. Though she kept herself in shape as best she could, she wasn't the type to build muscle, merely doing the bare minimum to maintain a relatively well toned body that was capable of getting her out of any scrapes she might find herself in. "I'd ask you to arm wrestle, but I wouldn't want to wound your pride." She quipped, knowing full well that this was an outright lie, as anyone with half a brain would also see.

    "You're a baby. No wonder you're not drinking." Compared to her, he was a little beansprout, though it was fair to say that after a certain age it really ceased to matter. Although life was a learning experience, Claribel had found that she and the few of her own kind she had come across over the years had simply stopped trying to grow. It seemed to inevitably occur between the first and second century, and the rest was just mindless floating through the rest of their years. Claribel was even beginning to think about consigning herself to purgatory, despite the fact that there really could be nothing worse. As life was now, it seemed attractive. At least there she knew what would happen to her, and there would always be others there.

    Once again, the somewhat easily distracted demon had to redirect her attention to the conversation at hand. She questioned whether being entirely honest was a good idea, though in a moment the decision was made, "Sweetie, I'm a demon. We don't do jobs." She chuckled slightly, not that she was entirely sure why this was, "I lie, cheat and steal my way through life. The closest I've come to an actual job is laundering money." It hadn't been the most enjoyable thing she'd ever one, but organised white collar crime was one of the easiest ways to get a good lump of cash to see her through a few years.

    "And you? Let me guess, you work for the Samaritans? Funding for AIDS? Or have you gone to church college?" And of course, she was just asking if he was a vicar in a slightly mean spirited though gently teasing manner. She was well aware that the perception of angels being utterly peaceful and saintly creatures was almost entirely false, but she chose to ignore it for the time being. Waiting for a response from the angel, Claribel finished the last of her cocktail, sighing with satisfaction.