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“I was almost sure you two wouldn’t show.” The words slid passed thin lips effortlessly, the long syllables held carefully by the bitter undertones of disdain. The voice was clearly masculine, carrying rough edges and the vulgar ends of an attitude. He halted in his approach to stare at the two already gathered, giving a faint snort. “We seem to be missing one more,” he commented, turning his head to glance about curiously.
Shaking his head, the speaker carefully approached the pair, a thick, black scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face and giving way to an seemingly endless black cloak that fell all around the body underneath it, making the figure almost impossible to distinguish between male and female had he not spoken. From under the dark folds, a gloved hand – hidden under equally dark fabric – reached out, long fingers pushing the raven hood from his head, the fabric flopping against his shoulder blades silently. His hand continued from their, fingers curling around the edges of his scarf to give it a faint tug downward, freeing the delicate point of a nose and then giving way to a pair of thin, smirking lips. Another hand appeared from under the mess of darkness, both of the large appendages freeing the clip holding the cloak around the man’s neck. Swiftly, he pulled it off, one arm rolling under the fabric to snap it up and over a broad shoulder.
The newly exposed body was of the typical human design marked only by a select few oddities. He was the usual male height, built with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. In much the fashion his cloak had done, a pair of ragged, black pants hung off the male’s waist, obscuring his legs and almost the entirety of the dark boots on his feet. His top was in much the same state, differing only because the gently muscled arms were bare. His skin proved to be surprisingly pale, for obvious reasons, and seemed unmarked except for the line of a blazing tattoo rolling across his left shoulder, crawling up his neck, and curving along his left cheek. The image was a simple stream of flames, the colors so vibrant that they seemed real against the fair skin. The colors on his skin, however, proved not only to give him a sense of identification but also proved to intensify the eerie look of the brilliant golden eyes that peeked out from under sandy blond bangs, the rest of his hair falling messily about his face.
Suddenly, there was a further burst of warmth, and it would suddenly become obvious to most just who he was. The air around him grew steadily warmer, but not in a sickly fashion, instead flowing in comforting waves that one would expect when basking in the company of a loved one. “The name is Apollo, eldest prince of the Fire Nation.” Apollo said this with a touch of pride, the corners of his lips curling up further to flash a surprisingly sharp canine. He said nothing further from that point, instead moving towards the tower to examine it curiously, the heavy pack strapped to his back jingling faintly. But as he moved, the cloud of heat seemed to move with him, hugging him like a protective blanket and refusing to allow any form of cool air to touch the delicate skin. “And you are Tabris,” he paused, glancing at the vampire in question before turning to eye the small female with an arched brow, “and you must be Delta.” He seemed all knowing, the way he spoke, his tone carrying nothing but confidence and his eyes seeming to give off a look of superiority. “We are just missing Sa-” Apollo’s words were suddenly shoved off course and his body gave an involuntary shutter.
Internally, his balance shifted, causing his mind to panic as he suddenly whirled to glance around him. The air around the group grew unbelievably cold in those few seconds that past and the air around the man began to steam. His teeth bared and his muscles became tense – his body was instinctively preparing for a fight. His form grew more uneasy, it seemed, as the apparent source of the temperature disturbance grew closer.
Approaching the group was a small figure, a powder blue cloak flowing behind the little body. The edges of the garment were lined with pristine white fur that rolled along the edges and even along the hood, thoroughly hiding the small face from view. As the body moved, silver lines in the form of snow flakes became apparent on the elaborate covering, the snow casting a delicate glimmer along the slivery designs. A sudden burst of cool wind hit the body head on, throwing the cover back to display the body to the gathered. The form was apparently male – due to the lack of covering across the narrow chest – and surprisingly small. His legs were thin and scantily clad, fully exposed except for the fall of white fabric that covered his front area and the rise of his bum. The only covering seemed to be the thin, silvery chain of an anklet wrapping around his ankles, leaving a single chain down the center of his foot to secure around his middle toe. Sprouting just above the piece of jewelry were two, tiny feathered appendages that twitched with the burst of air, knocking the small chain downward just slightly and flashing the smooth transition of feathers and skin on his ankles. Up higher along the slim legs, his right thigh was hugged possessively by a thick, silver band, two, glassy blades strapped firmly in place. At a casual glance, they would seem as if they were made of frosted glass, their hilts just a bit whiter and fashioned in the shape of an elaborate cross, water seeming to slosh about curiously in the depth of the blade. But upon a more in-depth investigation, one would find the blades to be made not of glass, but of ice, chilling holy water filling the piercing blades. Further up on the surprisingly wide hips, another silver chain was fastened oddly through his odd bottom garment, the end of it dangling down in front of his legs with a small, icy cross at the end.
Suddenly, one of the short arms moved, bumping the cloak back once more to show the bare chest once more, along with the many accessories covering his arms. Silver bracelets fell about wrists, clanking together wildly and allowing the sapphires on his jewelry to gleam proudly under the light. Another bit of frosty white could be found against his upper-arms, the ice bands baring lines of silver and diamond shaped sapphires. A few, silver chains fell all about his neck and against his chest, partially obscuring the crimson cross cut into his left breast, the only flaw on the cinnamon skin. Suddenly, the figure stopped, and that powder blue and white cloak fell to obscure the small form once more, causing Apollo, in turn, to shift back as the cool air burned in his lungs. “Who are you?” He demanded roughly, causing one of the little hands to reach out and push the hood down.
As it fell, a head of ebony hair tilted upward to allow the vivacious sapphire eyes to stare at the man curiously. “Sapphira,” he answered simply, a long, ebony tendril of hair falling against a round cheek. All about the childish face, long curly lengths of ebony hair falling across his shoulders and down his chest to an ungodly length way down to his knees. The hair appeared to be tied in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, secured by a powder blue and silver ribbon. “I take it you haven’t realized the doors are open?” Innocently, thin lips broke into a bright smile, his eyes closing and his face seeming to – if possible – become more androgynous. Apollo, in his confusion, stepped aside as Sapphira moved forward, brushing past him with a soft ‘pardon me’, approaching the massive doors that seemed to spread so willingly for the approaching angel.
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