Welcome to Gaia! ::

Kane ignored his opinion and comment that he had never met someone like her before; she would assume he simply lacked the world traversing and travel portfolio she had done and acquired. Not that one could blame him- she was incapable of doing such on her own, requiring mages, wizards, sorcerers, warlocks, or whatever flavor of spellcaster was prevalent to cast a spell allowing her to go great distances. The strange look in his eyes was not so overlooked, and while obviously paired with the notation he thought her unique, she was unable to discern what was actually meant by it. Was it simple curiosity? A sort of amusement? Mischief?

A glance was given to the food put on her plate, then one to his. A slow blink here; her etiquette knowledge was practically non-existent. There was no reason for her to learn it- with a demonic upbringing and then a pursuit of war and mercenary work, there was hardly a need. Unsure what he was waiting for, she mirrored his actions and didn't touch her fork either... and it was because her mind was so focused on how polite he was being that she was able to stifle another flare of anger from surfacing. It was narrowly avoided; had she not be so conscious of his intent she'd have no reason to keep herself from starting an argument.

I could swear I just said that most of my work was not killing people. I hope he isn't trying to show disdain for it by mentioning it as if it's the entirety of my job; I won't be so easily shamed out of its necessity.

"Well," she started, her voice laced with mild sarcasm, "since I suppose I do it so much there isn't much time left for other things." The agitation faded quickly as she stared at the man. Was he even paying attention? Eyes were fixated on something past her or at nothing at all. Confidant there was nothing growing on her bare wall, there was not even a glance thrown over her shoulder to make certain. A sigh escaped her lips as she assumed he was disinterested again. Resisting the urge to stab the main course with a fork, she folded her arms. "I write letters, I read, I collect magical devices, I dance. I used to keep contact with friends, but we fell out of touch. I occasionally find myself running into them- the ones that are alive- given our mutual career. In any case, all the missions cause me to come and go often enough a lasting relationship of any sort would just be a burden."

She had started eating her food after he did, inwardly praising herself for not being as combative and argumentative as would be typical with a stranger that wasn't offering some sort of lucrative endeavor. The inner pride ceased abruptly with his his words. The very slow and hesitant feelings of fondness, warmth, and friendship found their growth grinding to a halt. Her shoulders pressed together slightly as she bent over her food. There was no hiding the brilliant red jewel tone of her eyes as he spoke.

The food had her complete attention. It was out of her last ounce of self-control, gratitude, and courtesy that she refrained from commenting. Her fork gently scraped against her plate as she savored the tastes of one of the best meals she had in several years, if not a decade or two. Her cooking was sparse and unremarkable; the few dishes she had eaten in the past she found she no longer had a stomach for. Raw meat caused very adverse reactions in her as of late and so Kane partook only in what others made. The souffle was perfect in execution and the salad's simplicity refreshing and potent. Letting her mind wash over th enjoyable taste, her temper cooled ever so slightly. Had he been less of a cook she would not have been able to calm herself with such a pleasant meal.

"Oh. I had thought it'd be like kicking a puppy... and as long as I didn't tell anybody, no one would care or notice," she replied finally as she set down her fork. A cold sarcasm dripped from her sentence. Her shining, blood-red eyes seemed to be both blazing and frozen, barely holding a torrent of feelings at bay.

"A man who doesn't believe in causes and ideals? How refreshing." She wiped off her mouth with her napkin before dropping it on her plate. Orbs were transfixed on his now, unrelenting with their aggressive stare. "I am sorry your conscience is so adverse to spilled blood, but it is not on your behalf alone I go. I am guessing many innocent lives were lost do to your tryst, although none as lasting and traumatic as your would-be-wife's, and that is why you sit here in complacence, running your only notion of what to do. Tell me, why are you running? Because innocent people shouldn't die or she'd be unhappy with you killing- or because you are? Do you think that abstaining will make them act justly? That great people won't be butchered? That anyone who cared for you would be happy watching you run day in and day out with your tail between your legs?

Run as you will. Run like you were in the wrong, that your love for her is something you are ashamed of, that deserves punishment. Run like it's your sword that killed the kind people angels slaughter with their skewed sense of guilt and sin. Let them breed, let them fly after you with righteous vengeance and no challenge to their morality, let lives lay wasted to someone who will not fight for anything.

I, however, am going." She pushed back her chair now and stood. Kane knew she was invoking his rage again, but she was on her soap box once again, one that she would never leave. "Perhaps I'll die, but I've committed horrible acts in the past Mister Gabriel and I'm not about to let you or anyone else cause me to not stay my course. Too much has been lost to act cowardly now. Maybe I haven't had as much time to let tragedy wear me down, but I refuse to let these assholes intimidate me into complacency."

"I have a letter to write to my sister, now, before I retire."

And here will come another outburst I am sure, she thought silently. Kane didn't regret her words regardless of his reaction. In fact, there was something almost admirable and likable about him when he got so enraged he attacked her- because in that moment she knew he was being honest and himself. In that fleeting moment he felt strongly enough about something he was pushed into action. Is that why she provoked him? Is that why she had invited him back and felt compelled to berate him with her opinions rather than force him out the door?

Well that's that.

Kane walked over to the window that angel had just departed from and closed it tightly, trying to keep her spacious studio warm. Shrugging her shoulders at the empty kitchen, she mentally dismissed his comments. It wasn't that she was devoid of sympathy and understanding- he had lost his loved one to people who had exhibited the same sort of righteous sense of justice she did. It had happened to her also, to a much lesser extent, but it wouldn't stay her course. It was better, anyway, that he didn't understand, she reasoned. It would be nice to live in such an idealic mentality again- to think that staying her sword would somehow miraculously contribute to peace. Such illusions had been lost on her long ago, though. One singular moment in her memory when she had attempted such pacifism, a refusal to act on the merit that violence beget violence and other such things, had ended with a deep coating of regret that enveloped her heart.

Ah well, what can one expect from a demon anyway? she mused as she sauntered over to the refrigerator. The large clay jug was taken out and carried over to her desk with a large gulp of the contents taken on the way. Draping herself on the seat, the container was carefully set on the edge of the wooden table. She picked up a quill and began penning her letter, a piece of firm parchment chosen to compliment the antiquated writing tool. This simple task, done every night, was treated with the utmost importance. Each page of her correspondence was carefully planned and her complete devotion given to every word. Her sister deserved no less. By the time she had finished by signing the sixth page, most of the milk had been gulped down and had to be returned to the ice box to assure there'd be enough to last until the next day. The lengthy letter was folded three times and the bulky mass shoved into a dark envelope. The envelope was then placed in a large glass box with one of her feathers (that she kept hidden in a jar in that was on the same bookshelf as the aforementioned box) and vanished. No trace of either item remained, whisked away magically to the recipient. Two hours had elapsed.

Stretching, she then wandered over to her dresser. While the casual blouse and loose-fitting pants were good for company, neither provided the slightest bit of protection for the foray she intended to get into. Shrugging off both, she pulled on a pair of snug, black leather breeches and a deep rose red corset a thick brocade and metal boning. Neither garment was exactly armor, but waltzing in to a meeting with her contact and/or contractor in studded leather, splint mail, or anything else of the like and armed to the teeth would cause an ambush. Given the choice, she'd rather have less gear and be the amusher as opposed to the ambushee. Lacing up her boots and strapping on her sword, she had every appearance of stepping out to accept an assignment. It was her usual dress and armament, one that was kept on her person in case a raunchy traveler on the road decided to hassle her.

Re-activating the illusion as she stepped out her door, she tucked the necklace that had returned her into her cleavage. Kane trotted down the stairs, nodding to the bartender to indicate that she was leaving; they knew if she was gone more than a week what to do with her things. The demoness knew the risks of her career and had made preparations in the case that she died. Hurrying out the front door and into the night, she started towards her destination.

A few hundred feet from the door, wings burst out of her back, limbs brushing against the top of the corset as they did so. The blend of scales with tufts of feathers were still there and the leathery appendages quickly carried her into the air and towards her goal. She was reinvigorated; no rest was needed to give her the energy to fly, to fight, or maintain the magics that made her seem as dark in heritage as the night. Using the soft glow of moonlight to help her navigate and determination to fuel her speed, the woman laughed softly to herself. It was a foolish thing to do, a completely insane thing to plan... and still she was excited.

Kane landed in front of the large manor gracefully, the toes of her boots gently touching the ground first. As her outstretched wings started to slowly fold, her heel slowly fell to join. As leather and feather melded into her back, long red lines left in their wake, she tried to run her fingers through her hair. Flight had never been kind to it and her less so. It was a tangled, windswept mess that had never seen a single squirt of conditioner. Her half-hearted attempt to make herself look more presentable finished, she started towards the door.

She never understood the desire to have a large house. In her work as a mercenary she had accumulated a hefty amount of money, but not once had she considered a large house. What good was a large, empty house to her? Copious amounts of wasted room and the headache of having to hire people to care for it (because she'd never do it herself) were strong dissuading factors. Her much more humble abode seemed infinitely more pleasant the more she dwelled on it.

Skipping up the steps, she ignored the door knocker and knocked lightly with her knuckles. It was, after all, dinner time and she didn't want to be rude yet; all her bad manners had to be carefully stored up for later use. If he did not answer promptly, then the doorbell would be employed in trying to convince him to see who it was.

Kane was seated in a spacious sitting room at a small, ornately carved table. The lavishly decorated space was probably meant to evoke a sense of respect and awe for the owner, but Kane was unimpressed. If there were some arcane artifacts or she had been escorted to a library then she might have been sorry that she came here with murderous intentions. Looking around she could only muse how much money he squandered and wasted on pretty things that hardly anyone ever saw (much less admired) when more useful things could be purchase. What a shame.

Crossing her legs immediately after plopping into the chair, she put one arm on the table casually and let her fingers rap lightly on the surface. With each light press of digit on wood her mind flickered to another topic. Conscious thought and effort was being put into assuring that she didn't mull over her plan of action excessively. The more anxious she was the more change she had to muck it up. There was already more than ample chance for things to wretchedly wrong.

It's been a long time since I've done something this foolhardy, she let herself ponder briefly. Not that it was something that many could appreciate, but the dance with death that she was about to do seemed exciting and refreshing. Many feared dying, but Kane had faced it enough and had devalued hers such that all she feared was going out without a bang of some sort.

"You didn't have to dress so nicely for me," she remarked casually, a charming smile flashed his way. Kane was not as socially inept as she had appeared to Gabriel. Then again, she wasn't employed by the changing angel nor did she want to ease him into a false sense of security. There was nothing that the latter had that she wanted- but the man before her she wished some answers from.

"There was a crucial miscommunication." She laid her hand flat on the table, looking at the extended fingers a moment before glancing back up at her contractor. Purposefully keeping herself friendly and affable, her true intentions were kept swarming in her head. Kane was better at being deceptive and lying than killing in all honesty, she just seldom desired or needed to use such skills. It was much easier not trying to put on a face and simply be her rude, brutal self. "I assume that it was not purposeful, but it does change things. I ask few questions when I am asked to kill a demon as I despise my race; however, I have discovered that the person in question is most certainly not a demon. While he might be changing, he is not quite there yet. I have certainly killed people before that are not demons, but in this case I was unsettled by the misunderstanding. If you still wish me to kill this man- and if it is the one I ran across I am certain I can do such- I require some clarification."

Her eyes were fixated on the other man's, her face unflinching. It was unlikely, but perhaps they had given her false information and wanted another man dead. Mayhaps they were uneducated in the difference between angels, demons, and those that shifted through shades of gray- and if that were true, she'd be more than happy to educate him.

If he answers poorly, I have the perfect notion of how to provoke him.

Gabriel blinked. Either my eyes do deceive me, or Miss Kane is being outright rash. What does she think she is doing, giving off that display? Then again, the man does look slight...Perhaps- His own thoughts were cut off by a shiver. Purple eyes widened to their full extent as he stared into the room at the two, looking wildly from one side of the room to the other through the window. I felt them. At least one, I felt. They're here. Kane's in danger. Not like I didn't know that already. The last thought was wry and bitter. Or like she didn't know. Still scanning through the window, the Angelic being wondered what it was that Kane was saying, unable to even attempt at reading her lips through the glazed and carved panes. From her body language, however, it seemed that she was making a threat.

The man himself looked daunted at first, but after a moment regained his composure and met Kane's icy gaze with a calm smile. Although Gabriel could hear nothing, his voice would be all too clear to Kane.

Ah, well, you see my lovely Kane, I have some friends who would not be so delighted to hear of your...Escapades. Nor your implied intentions, I must say." Despite his outward serenity, he betrayed himself by shying away from the Demoness, circling with her around the table. "So I suppose...If you have failed in your assignment, you are free of your contract. I doubt, however, that my own contractors will be so forgiving of your fail-" The last words of the man were drowned beneath gurgles and a muffled grunt as blood spilled down his front, following him to the ground to lie at the feet of a smiling figure.

The smile was not a pleasant one. For a being so majestic, the smirk now adorning the full red lips of the Angel standing before Kane seemed out of place. Sapphire blue eyes glinted in malevolence, midnight tresses waving from his entrance. A dagger inlaid with a teardrop ruby in the pommel rested lightly in his outstretched hand, drops of liquid similar in hue to the jewel dripping mulishly from the silver blade. Wings that would make snow seem dull and grey were folding themselves neatly. "Well now, Miss Kane," he said slowly, tossing the knife aside, "It seems that you have not, in fact, done as we have asked. Or should I say, he had asked." Not even a glance was given to the bloody heap at his feet. "So what shall we do with you know? What say you?" The question was not directed towards Kane, although he was looking straight at her as he asked. Upon his inquiry, four additional streaks of white appeared from above, alighting softly with similar quirks to their lips. "What to do indeed." Every one of the five echoed the words in unison.

"You may call me Seraphel, my pretty Angel." The slur he put on the last word openly portrayed his contempt. He took the few steps he needed to come right up against Kane; his fluid grace outmatched Gabriel's by far. "What was it you said about...A child? I think we would all be interested to know about that a bit more," As the Angel spoke, a solitary finger touched a spot on Kane's torso, the spot that happened to hold her scar. "Intimately."

Gabriel nearly fell from his perch when the entire room went dark, a black deeper than the sky above. He could see absolutely nothing through the glass now, the glaze and carvings aside. The total blackness acted as if it were not only shutting away the light, but preventing from any getting in. Like a living thing. It made him shiver; it was not a cold chill, but more of an excited spasm. As if something inside of him had been touched and was now awakened in one fast motion. It was invigorating and frightening. Wonderful and terrible. Ecstatic and painful. All flowed in a spiral toward a center, pivotal point. It called. It yearned. It spoke.

"Oh Gabriel..." The sing-song voice burst through his skull like a searing flame, enveloping his very sense of being. All he could see was the darkness, but it was no longer black. He could see...Things...Within. Not people, but forms of life. Colors and hues. He knew which colors he loathed. He knew which ones he wanted - he needed - to destroy. All else was merely incidental. The glass was no more than a thin barrier separating them from him. Wings arched back as the man stood, irises ablaze with a rage not his own. A mat of grey feathers littered the branch and grown below - every last one that had been left before. What propelled him now were long, shining feathers of pitch that almost glowed in the dull moonlight. They covered from wing-tip to shoulder blade, and not a spot of anything lighter than death. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Gabriel launched himself at the window with a guttural growl.

It took a moment for Seraphel to take in what had happened, but no more than that. Immediately, his entire body began to glow with a faint white light, the darkness around him shying away in protest. "You think to hide from me, Demon? Vile filth; you and your blasphemy will be blot out from the pages of history!" His voice remained calm throughout, but the last syllable was enunciated by a flash of white-hot light, streaming in the direction he knew Kane had to be close to. The beam would have passed right neck-height, although was off of its target by half of a foot. Instead it carved a rift in the woman's shoulder, cauterizing the wound as it passed through. In the same instant, the sound of weapons drawn and swinging pervaded the air, two sounding as if they caught something tangible. The rest yielded only air, but would soon find more than that. Gabriel, however, was not about to give them the chance.

Glass shattered in a cascade of falling vines, shards shooting every-which-way as the black mass shot through the opening. Gabriel did not even wait to land before he began his assault. He knew their colors well. A newly-clawed bare hand caught a long, jagged piece of glass as he flew, spinning and letting it go with a snarl at the furthest light. It flickered and went out. Next his attention turned to the figure closest to him - which would have been Seraphel - and his dance began. With grace surpassing even the Angel's, the Fallen leaped to his called duty, claws tearing another light from it's owner's throat. A scream was cut short, the cymbal accompanied by the body falling to create a deep percussion. It was the music he danced for. Another dagger of glass found its way to the hunter's hand, slicing and cutting another Angel in several less-than vital places before ending the procession of agonized calls for help. The help that came was similarly cut down. With lupine agility even in the blank darkness, his weapons found their marks. A bloodied, clawed hand jutted into a torso, nearly emerging through the other side before wrenching back out. That light died without a sound. Too quiet. His last flicker of luminousness he wanted to play with. He wanted to hear an orchestra play to him as he slowly ground the light to match its surroundings. He wanted to enjoy it. Glass forgotten, claws worked themselves across their victim's skin, tearing and ripping and stabbing everywhere but where it would kill. The screams and pleas that filled the air were the crescendo. A crooked smile, and it was over with a final drowning beat.

The darkness flickered. Gabriel stood swaying amidst a mass of tangled bodies stained with red. The once brilliant white of Angelic wings were now crimson where not black. Glass lay about the floor and on the furniture on the bodies as well as in them in several places. The man standing now with black wings had his own fair share of glass within him, cuts and slices causing his feet and legs to bleed most heavily. One large shard had embedded itself in the small of his back, but he seemed to take no notice. He was staring down at the last of the truly fallen Angels, the same crooked smile still quirking his lips. It was a woman of flawless beauty - or at least had been. Her skin lay open in almost every visible place, everything rent open save for her visage, which was left in a pristine and never-ending scream of unknown agony. Bits of flesh riddled the area around her.

As the darkness lay unsteady, Gabriel turned himself, head tilting in the direction of Kane. His smile faltered, though the eyes stared straight into her own from the pits of nothingness. They were as red as the blood that dripped from his black claws, as the blood that hung damp on his wings, and as the blood that coated him from shining silver hair to rent toes. He smiled again, this time not a twisted grin, but rather an exhausted and relieved smirk. His eyes wavered between crimson and amethyst. The lights flickered and went out, but this time it was only in the man's head as it hit the ground with a dull, finalizing thud. The song had ended, for now.