The Tables Have Turned [AbyssHarlequin & Scrypt private role-play]

"I think I'll have a little glass of wine," Gil nodded, taking a seat at the table and leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed. "And yes, it's always nice to have a little atmosphere for the occasion," he smiled, looking to Dev. "Don't tell me you spent too long on this though. You don't have to do this much every time I come over, alright? I'm not worth that much trouble," Gil insisted, still feeling mildly pathetic for not doing things like this for Dev. He never really had time to prepare when Dev came to his house. He was usually hunched over some paperwork from the heavens, trying to organize the extinction of evil which was quite a large task. But he didn't know how to go on without the work.
 
Devereaux chuckled slightly as he opened the bottle of red wine and poured enough to fill the glass half-way. "Oh, but I do have to do this much." He said, pouring the same amount in his own glass before replacing the bottle in the basket. He picked up both of their soup bowls carefully, glancing at Gil. "You see, I find you to be more than worth preparing something nice for." He turned to go into the kitchen before pausing and continuing his thought, "It's been the longest time since I have really and truly wanted to make someone mine and only mine." He shook his head slightly before disappearing into the kitchen to fill their bowls with their first course of the meal.
 
Gil paused, the tumbling of his thoughts reminding him of just how awful he was at handling compliments. And then his pause turned into more of a postponement. In that, he didn't reply. He sat there, with a slight blush creeping over him cheeks before gaining control of himself and sitting up straight. He sipped his wine casually, finding the taste to be absolutely remarkable. He would expect nothing less of Dev when it came to alcohol. "Well just know I don't come for the finery. I'm only here because of you," he finally answered. "You could be living in a dumpster and I'd still visit. Though if you did somehow end up in such a state, I'd probably force you to live with me," he corrected himself, ducking his head a little to hide any remnants of the heat in his cheeks. One of Gil's least favorite things was how easily he blushed. And how often Dev managed to play on that fact.
 
Dev chuckled quietly, setting down a bowl of slightly steaming soup in front of Gil. "Yes, yes, I know. Though you should know that I wouldn't live anywhere that even slightly resembles a dumpster." He took his own seat across from Gil, taking a sip of his wine before speaking again. "I present to you, lobster bisque. I figured this would be a nice start to the meal, especially with the way it compliments the wine." He flashed a warm smile at Gil before sipping his wine again. "And what do you think of the wine, Gilon?"
 
"It's fantastic, as always," Gil nodded, returning the smile, "And I'm sure the bisque will be excellent as well. I don't know how it couldn't be." Gil took a small spoonful of the bisque, blowing to cool it off before placing the spoon in his mouth and letting the expertly crafted flavors flow over his tongue. "I was right. Delicious as ever," he sighed, his tone showing complete contentment.
 
"And I didn't even cheat to make it," Dev chuckled, gently cooling the liquid before quietly sipping at it. After a few moments of silence, Devereaux glanced up from his soup at Gil. "How do you feel like lavender?" He directed his eyes back down to his bowl as he finished his soup and sat back in his chair slightly. He sipped at his wine again before meeting Gil's eyes once more.
 
"It's a nice flower, particularly the smell. Why?" Gil asked with a shrug, taking another sip of his wine and following it with a little bit of the bisque. Dev was right. The flavors mixed remarkably well. (Hah lazy replies /dies)
 
(( No dying omfg I might get blamed for it ))


"I was just wondering." The demon took another sip of his wine, slowly letting the careful weaving of his glamor slip away. He saw no reason to keep that suffocating thing on in the comfort of his own home with one who already knew quite well what his true form was.
 
(No worries, still here.)


Gil observed that Dev had relaxed his glamor and decided to do so himself, which basically meant he gained a sort of glow about him and his eyes changed from a normal amber to a shade that looked more like fire. It had surprised him that humans could observe such subtle oddities, but they had and he'd found a way around it. "What's your favorite flower?" Gil asked casually, finishing his bisque and taking yet another sip of wine.
 
Devereaux pursed his lips slightly, musing slightly as he ran through a list of flowers in his head. "I'd have to say amaryllis. It is a rather beautiful flower if you ask me." He smiled at Gil, finishing his glass of wine before standing slowly. "How does some salad sound?" He smoothed his dress slacks before picking his bowl up and offering to take Gil's bowl as well. "Also, did I ever mention how gorgeous your eyes are? They're such a beautiful shade. It's a shame you have to hide them in this world."
 
"Salad sounds very nice," Gil said, handing his bowl to Dev. "And yes well...we both have had to make some sacrifices to live here," he replied, trying his best to passively take the compliment. "It's funny, I'm just so used to being glamored I almost forgot what I looked like. Though as you can tell, I don't really look in a mirror very often. It just...seems like a waste of time," he shrugged.
 
Dev chuckled slightly, stacking the bowls as he shook his head. "You might break the mirror with how absolutely stunning you are." He winked at the angle before disappearing into the kitchen once more only to return with a tray balanced on one hand containing the salad ingredients and a table on the other. "Pear, blue cheese, and candied pecan salad. Would you like to serve yourself?"
 
(So yay we got bored again


And sad


And so we was like


rp sure why not...)


Gil wasn't exactly sure how many mugs of coffee he'd downed in the past day. Probably close to twenty. Probably even more. It wasn't like caffeine did anything for his energy. He was an angel, and so the only reason he drank the coffee was for the pleasure of the taste and to maybe trick his own mind into not being exhausted every once in a while. There was evidence of his splurge, with the identical plain white mugs scattered about the wide open living room which had soon become constricted with his piles of papers for 'work' or whatever you wished to call the maintenance of the human race. The experience felt much closer to hell than heaven. How ironic. An angel forced to experience the punishments endured in the torturous abyss of the after-life. There was no denying the few empty wine bottles scattered among the prints either. If Gil felt strained enough, the only thing to keep him sane was a fairly large dose of alcohol. Granted, he wasn't the best at holding his liquor. He'd probably finishing reading a few of the papers quite drunkenly. Lucky for him most of the piles of white sheets consisted of reports, which he had learned to analyze very well. His ability to name the culprits of demonic crimes seemed quite inhuman, but then again. He wasn't human. All he had to do when he finished reading the reports was right the name of his lead suspect, the name of the angel he wished to be put on the criminal's tail, and the punishment he recommended to be inflicted upon the demon. He found that the closer he got to Dev, the more merciful his punishments had become. He used to have no trouble submitting demons to the most torturous forms of heavenly justice. Now he found that his stone cold heart had somehow been softened. He wasn't exactly grateful for his new-found ability to sympathize. But it certainly made the job more engaging to say the least. He often required the bare minimum to be inflicted upon the demons now, only asking for harshness when the vileness of the crime angered him. He remembered a time when a simple prank pulled by a demon could throw him into a cold rage. Now he could even snicker at the crimes. He hid the fact though. No use in becoming a Fallen, oh god no. He'd punished angels before too. And their tortures were often more agonizing than those forced upon the enemy. Many Fallen didn't survive the 'fall', their sure shield ripped away, their tender heart exposed to a whole new world of suffering. Gil admitted he was uncomfortable watching the transformation, as he was often forced to do. Gil didn't doubt that he'd survive the experience if he happened to be deemed traitorous. He found he was more corrupt than a majority of his cohorts. The change would still be startling and he would no doubt be left with scars, both inside and out. But he'd live, though never wholly.


Gil sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa and staring at the vaulted ceiling of the log cabin. The blizzard outside combined with the fire inside left this interesting glow about the home, a sort of lighting that one couldn't help but be comforted by. Combine that with the Gil's hardly mild intoxication from the wine and he felt quite content. He had finished his goal for work, the moon slowly rising above the shaded mountains, the only reason for Gil's ability to see it being his heightened senses, what with the flurry of snow covering every inch of sky. He closed his eyes, throwing his final report in the stack of paperwork beside him and curling his legs up Indian-style beneath him while he stretched his arms above his head. Releasing the tension in his muscles, he slumped against the couch, blinking water from his eyes. He still felt some tension in his back however, suddenly reminded that he hadn't stretched his wings for the longest time. He wondered why he hadn't realized it sooner, considering the discomfort in his back had started a few days ago. He tugged his over-sized shirt over his head, realizing he still had his glasses on and placing them on the end-table lightly. The glasses were only a way of keeping his eyes from getting irritated from staring at small print for a very long time. His eyesight was beyond good. He stood, opening the door to the wraparound deck of the cabin, which was supported by some thick beams to keep it level, considering it was on a mountainside. Gil liked the home, mostly because it was secluded and he was free to do as he pleased, such as go without his glamor for long walks along the scenic mountain trails, or drink his fill of alcohol without worrying he would lose himself and damage something. But it was also a pleasant natural atmosphere compared to the busy cities he was used to. He stepped into the blizzard, finding the contrasting cool against his skin to be soothing. He wasn't worried about catching cold or anything. He didn't get sick from bacteria or viruses or things like that. He rested crossed arms against the cool railing of the deck, letting his large silvery wings spread from his back, appearing as though from nothing. He sighed, the feeling of those muscles finally being freed remarkably soothing. He simply leaned against the railing, slightly out of it from his alcohol consumption, flexing the various muscles in his wings one at a time, giving each of them their fair share of stretching.
 

Quite the opposite of Gilon’s life filled with work, Devereaux often spent his time on nothing in particular. Most often he found himself piss-drunk and surrounded by both demons and humans of the like. Thus is the carefree life of Devereaux. He had his serious moments though, rare as they were. He did whatever he wished, not worrying one bit about being reprimanded by neither hell or heaven. He’d already faced death as a young demon when faced with brutal humans claiming the blessing of the heavens torturing him. Just the thought made his expression sour and his mouth taste sour.


And such was the occurrence as he pushed whatever type of creature that was clinging to him away. He was far too sober to deal with the petty requests of such lowly creatures. Honestly, he only bothered with lower demons and humans because it was necessary to his survival. And there was also the fact that he needed to keep himself busy as to not constantly hang off of the object of his affection. Though, he saw no harm in paying a little visit to his darling at the moment. It would be better than dealing with these lowly creatures. He squared his stiff shoulders and tossed his hair over his shoulder before kicking aside whatever sort of creature it was, an imp probably, and making his way up a narrow, rotting staircase. He pushed the door at the top open slowly to reveal the familiar, shifting onyx and crimson lights of a demonic gateway. Devereaux was proud of this gateway in particular, for he had cast it himself for his own personal use. The higher demon dusted off his shirt and shorts lightly, making a disgruntled noise at the fact that Gil probably wouldn’t appreciate his current appearance very much. Ah well, he was already at the gateway and it was far too much work to step over others just to change. He stepped into the gateway, the familiar feeling between stepping into a pool of tar and electricity sparking over his skin making him smile slightly. Gateways such as this one were nice. He could go anywhere he so wished in the blink of an eye. And thus, he did just that.


Devereaux smoothed his hair slightly as he stepped out of the shadows in the log cabin. He took in the sight of the paper stacks, coffee mugs, and even the wine bottles littering the room before the fireplace. He slowly let his glamor come untangled, taking in a deep breath as the suffocating disguise left him. He picked up one of the empty wine bottles and frowned slightly, contrast black, white and fuchsia eyes slowly scanning the room. Glasses. Shirt. No Gilon. The demon lifted his gaze to the doors leading to what he assumed was a deck. Recently opened. He sat down the empty bottle carefully and made his way over to the door, opening it as quietly as possible.


He paused, inhaling sharply at the sight of his beloved. Angels were on an entirely different level of beautiful than demons and humans. They were that absolutely pristine, untouched beautiful that only angels were capable of. He leaned against the door frame for a minute, biting his lip slightly. Gilon had such beautiful wings, Devereaux certainly knew this. Much more beautiful than the black, leathery wings he had once had before that incident with demon hunters. Devereaux was well aware of what would happen to Gilon if the higher angels found out about their relationship as well. But even knowing this, Devereaux knew he could not stay away. Doing so would be torture.


Shaking away the thoughts, Devereaux stepped into the open, closing the door to the cabin quietly. “You’re tempting me, Gilon.” He spoke the four words softly as he made his way across the deck to stand next to the angel. “You’ve been drinking, have you not, ma chérie?” He rested one six joined hand on the angel’s mid-back gently, watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye.


(( Good enough ))
 
Gil couldn't deny that he had been surprised by Dev's appearance. And even a little embarrassed, considering he wasn't prepared for the visit, as could be observed by his physical appearance. Gil ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, trying to collect his thoughts. He found it funny that alcohol was about the only earthly substance that effected angels. It seemed one of the only temptations Gil was forced to face. And he had failed miserably at maintaining that purity of course. He wondered just how long it would be until his authority came into question. It wasn't unknown that he was of a lesser moral quality among the angels. But he was the only one who could perform his job well. If he slipped up in his duties, he wouldn't be forgiven very easily.


"Um...well yes. I had quite a few reports to examine. Some of them can be more than a little...distressing," he shrugged, noting Dev's hand resting on his back. He quite liked the soft touch, somehow reminding him that he wasn't alone anymore. It was surprising how easy you could end up lonely in eternity. Even if you were among a group of people who had an eternity to spend too, you could easily get irritated with each other. But if Dev ever grated on his nerves, which wasn't a difficult thing to do, he had an easy time forgiving and forgetting. He remembered a time when the sight of Dev would terrify him, when Dev would have to come on strong to even get him to return more than a flinch and a torrent of steely words. A touch from Dev would send him reeling not too long ago. Not because he hated Dev, but because he enjoyed being around him when he shouldn't. And that had been more terrifying than hatred. Now he couldn't be happier to see Dev, despite his surprise. "And then I remembered there was some wine in the cellar so I grabbed a few bottles and, well here we are," he smiled, remembering his almost ecstatic reaction to remembering the wine's presence. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so openly excited. And then he finally registered Dev's comment about temptation. And his slowed mind caught up to the fact that he should probably do something about his half-nakedness. "I should go grab my shirt," he remarked, standing up from leaning on the rail. And then his mind registered his wings, which were still quite tense. "But...well if you don't mind I'd like to stay out here a little longer. Just to relax," he said, returning to his previous position and dragging a hand over his undeniably tired face. "There's still some wine in the cellar, if you'd care for a drink," he added, glancing at Dev. His train of thought was entirely off course. Normally his first thought would have been to accommodate his guest. But the alcohol had made him nearly haze over the thought.
 

The demon shook his head slightly, a low chuckle escaping his lips at the angel’s words. “You just relax as long as you need to, Gilon. You obviously need it.” Devereaux rubbed the other’s back gently for a second before letting his arm fall back to his side as he stood straight. “I think I will pass on the alcohol though for the moment. I might forget how stunning you look if I have too much and then what would I use the next time I give into the so-called sin of pleasuring myself? I can’t have myself forgetting such a sight, now can I?” He shook his head again, running both hands through his hair before hooking his longer fingers together behind his head. It was probably best that he stayed away from alcohol. He wasn’t actually worried that he might forget such a beautiful sight. No, he was concerned he may lose control if he drank too much and tarnish his beloved to the point of no return. It was already hard enough for him to hold back his instincts while sober sometimes, but drunk? Oh goodness no, that made it a hundred times worse.


Instead, it was probably best that he didn’t touch the angel altogether. There was no telling when the more primeval demonic nature would take over sometimes when temptation was strong enough. He inhaled the biting air sharply, trying to clear his head of such carnal thoughts and fantasies.


“Gilon, I put you in danger by just standing next to you like this. I’m quite sure you are aware of this by now. I don’t mean just the fact that I could cause your downfall by giving into my desires, but the possibility of your higher-ups discovering us. So, even knowing this you let me stand by your side. Why is this, Gilon?” He turned to face the pure being then, gripping the wooden railing of the deck with his left hand until it groaned and cracked slightly. “And then you put yourself in such a vulnerable position before me. I know that you know you aren’t hanging around some lowly, or even mid-level, demon. I know you know I’m dangerous. So tell me, why do you keep such a dangerous beast around?” He swallowed hard, eyes searching the angel’s form carefully as he spoke. He realized his words might even sound a bit venomous though he didn’t mean for them to, but there was no taking that back now.


 
Gil couldn't help but clear his throat uncomfortably at Dev's reasoning for refusing the alcohol. Gil was anything but a lustful creature. If he could be prescribed to one particular weakness among the deadly vices, it was wrath. He couldn't remember ever having much of a sexual desire for anyone. But this also meant he wasn't judgmental of appearances. His opinion of a person was purely based on personality. Which was a perfect train of thought to reply to Dev's sudden questions. Honestly, Gil sometimes wondered if Dev stayed by his side for any other reason than to perhaps get his hands on him one day. But Dev reassured him whenever he saw him again, though Dev probably didn't know he was doing so. Dev would tease him and they'd often get into long discussions about anything, whether it be their favorite drink or the true nature of eternity. And Gil enjoyed it. Despite Dev's many sins, he still had good within him. Gil enjoyed drawing that out. Sure Dev could be applied to all of the greatest vices, but he had his moments. Even things like the self-restraint Gil knew Dev had to be applying at the moment greatly impressed him. Gil looked at Dev, silent for a while as he tried to find the right words within his intoxicated mind. "Well, I suppose it's because you are...you. And that makes you someone I'm not really sure I could live without. I could give a thousand reasons why I need you. But it isn't all about what you do for me either. It's also because I've come to find that I love you, in the most potent way I know to exist. I'm always worrying myself about what's best for you, despite knowing that you can handle yourself quite well. And then I realize I'm would be terrible at advising you because I'm not a demon. I don't know what you need. Frankly I wonder if we really help each other at all. You know I can't give you everything you want because I'm an angel, and I'm very much forbidden from doing practically everything that you do. But at the same time, I feel like we teach other things that one or the other lacks. We both are far from perfect, but we are both such complete opposites that we fit perfectly. And so even if you are a dangerous beast, that's not really what matters. You are so much more than a beast that I don't think I could even call you such. And as for the dangers you pose by being around me, I feel as though it would be much more dangerous for you to leave. I've never felt more content, and it's only because of you," Gil smiled. "Sorry, my idealism shows much more when I have alcohol in my system," Gil shrugged, turning back to look over the railing, not even sure of what he had said other than that whatever it was was the truth. Even if he didn't know the words, he knew he had conveyed a message that held nothing but his true feelings. It was up to Dev to deem them a good or a bad thing.
 
Devereaux was silent for a moment, his grip on the railing loosening slightly before tightening enough to make the wood whine in protest again from the force being applied to it. He was rather glad that Gilon looked back over the railing since he knew at least a hundred expressions had passed over his face in a matter of seconds. He turned each and every word over in his head at least ten times before moving on to the next. Love? The great Gilion had admitted to love? Slowly Devereaux felt color bleed into his usually pale, cold face as he thought. He inhaled shakily, opening his mouth to say something before closing it again. He loosened his grip on the railing again as he exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. When the demon opened them again he moved his right hand to rest his index and middle fingers under Gilon’s chin, using his thumb to steady his grip as to not let the angel pull back. He leaned forward, pausing just a few inches from the others face. “Gilon. Do you have any idea how you torture me? You admit to loving me, ah but alas, I cannot express my love to you in return as I would like to. I do love you, Gilon. More than anything else. But, I’ll be damned, I never had anyone tell me how difficult loving an angel is. Especially one that brushes aside the fact that I am a savage animal like you. If it wasn’t for the fact that I at least taught myself restraint I’d ravage you and brand you with my mark as to ward off any creature from even considering looking at you. And you just spew what sometimes sounds like nonsense to me and it makes me want to make you all mine. Oh yes, we complete each other and everything. I’ve noticed that for the longest time. In all of my thousands of years mucking around and defiling all sorts of creatures and claiming them as my own, you are the only one I really want to make all mine. But I can’t. I can’t, I really can’t. It’s a bit infuriating actually. I was still mucking around when I first met you and started antagonizing you. A game of taunt the angel. More like a game of let the angel capture my demonic heart and drive me to insanity.” The demon paused, exhaling slowly as his other hand gripped the railing again, making it actually splinter this time. “I love you, but you are so infuriating at the same time. On and on and on about loving and caring for me but then seeming to recall the fact that I shouldn’t even be allowed to touch a holy being such as you. I don’t think you can comprehend how irritatingly confusing your words are to me sometimes.” He took another deep breath, releasing the railing and lowering his voice to just above a whisper as he continued, “Now I’m just dragging this out, aren’t I? The end fact is that, I love you Gilon…but you are so irritating on so many levels that I just don’t know what to do with you. Now I'm just really frustrated, kind of confused, and repeating myself.” Devereaux shook his head slightly, releasing Gilon’s chin from his right hand and stepping back slightly with an almost apologetic expression on his face.
 
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"You know if I wasn't an angel, I'm sure this wouldn't be an issue. You'd have had your way long ago," Gil said, his gaze resting steadily on Dev. He felt quite guilty for refusing most all advances Dev made when it came the physical affection. He didn't really mind, but at the same time he didn't want it. He didn't know how to have a passion fueled by anything other than rage. And so if he ever did let Dev have any sort of taste of him, he was very sure he wouldn't be able to return any sort of feeling. Only because he was an angel. And his bane was not lust. Then there was the fact that he would most certainly be expelled from the ranks of his cohorts if they discovered any reason to be suspicious of his relations with a demon. He had a feeling that if Dev did get what he wanted, the angels would find out. They knew how to read each other very well. And if there was any hint at all that Gil had sexual relations, they would be able to tell. It was very uncharacteristic of him. "But you know, given I am an angel, whatever would follow after you got what you wanted would not be pleasant. When an angel breaks the rules, it's hard for fate to ignore it. And I can't even guarantee the act itself would be all that pleasant because I can't really return that sort of...desire," he said, smiling shyly. "There will be a day when I become Fallen, I'm completely sure of it. And then we'll be able to see what my nature has been suppressing. But I can't look forward to it because, put blatantly, it scares me. Especially after having seen what happens to those people. I just have to make sure that when it comes, I'm ready for it," he sighed, looking away and nodding. His wings twitched slightly, his face having trouble hiding his discomfort. He folded his wings behind his back, though not intentionally. He was just remembering the scenes of angels' wings being ripped away, and the pain on their faces. It was leaving his wings with a mind of their own as they nearly curled in on themselves.
 

Devereaux reached out and gently took one of Gilon’s hands in both of his own. “I understand I can’t do as I wish to you. I understand that you are to be a pure being.” He stepped closer again, bringing Gilon’s hand to his lips as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I will probably be the reason of your Fall in the end. I’m sorry. The pain you will have to go through because of me. I’m sure it will be even worse than my experience with Hunters. I’m sorry.” He spoke the words softly, tightening his grip gently on the angel’s hand. “I’ve honestly pondered leaving you alone, just so you hopefully won’t have to go through that pain. But then there is that side of me that is probably my true nature, always, always telling me not give a damn about that. It tells me to force you down and ravish you as I have thought of doing. But the other side of me doesn’t want to do that to you. Rather, I can’t.” He took a deep breath, letting go of Gilon’s hand slowly and taking a few steps back.


“I remember the pain I went through when those Hunters caught me when I was young and stupid. I can only imagine that the pain you would go through would be even worse, especially if it was for being with a demon like myself.” He focused his eyes on a tree in the distance, leaning on the railing gently. “You never saw me when I was young. Of course not, I’m older than you are. I was a million times worse than I am now because I never had anyone to teach me when something was too much growing up. I was also stupid because of it. I got caught by a pack of vicious demon hunters.” Devereaux glanced at Gilon, swallowing hard. It wasn’t often that he talked about that time. Just thinking about it made him bitter and his guts twist with the desire for revenge. “Long story short, it was three days before I got out with my life somehow. I remember that pain of holy water being poured on open wounds as if it only happened minutes ago. I remember those Hunters finding it funny to rip out my wings and then use them as a sort of leathery material for crafting things while I writhed in pain from having holy water poured on where my wings had once been. So, I can only imagine the pain you angels would go through would be even worse. You guys don’t just get smacked on the hand. I know that. And that is why I am sorry, Gilon. To think that you will probably fall because of me and experience such undying pain and agony…”


 
Gil felt something churn in his stomach. He didn't like seeing Dev hurt. He'd heard snippets of Dev's story before and it sounded horrifying. Gil had never exactly approved of demon hunter's methods, still requesting their help despite the fact. But he'd always found them to be too cruel, since many of them were very vengeful. They hunted and in turn were hunted themselves, which lead to the death of may of their own kind. And they had no self-restraint in torturing demons who killed one of their own. And then they had no self-restraint in anything. The tearing of wings was only used for the harshest of crimes among angels, though for the occasional demon they allowed the punishment to enacted. Only when the demons were notoriously horrid though. Only when it would appease all three realms to see him put down in such a manner. The angels had no trouble using it among themselves simply because their punishments were all remarkably harsh. What happened to Dev had surely been something the demon hunters organized alone. But really, the loss of his wings was not Gil's major concern. It was usually the loss of their very own pure nature and the invisible shields that kept them so that usually pushed Fallen over the edge. Sometimes when the angel was younger or their purity still very well intact, the pain would lead them to do things like tear their own body apart. Gil had even seen a Fallen tear his own head off. The transformation usually left physical scarring besides the scars from the wings as well. The fever generated could burn the skin, the muscles spasm so uncontrollably that they would contort themselves permanently. But this wouldn't be the last of Gil's punishment. He would likely be psychologically and physically tortured in the hours of his feverish change. And he couldn't imagine much of himself surviving. But it was by no means Dev's fault. Gil gently grasped one of Dev's hands, shaking his head slightly. "If I fall, it will be by my own decisions. I bear the consequences of my actions alone. If I didn't think this was worth it, I would leave. But this is worth it, and so I can't help but stay," Gil stated, rubbing his thumb over Dev's fingers.
 
(( I'm not content with this reply at all but my mind is drawing a blank so ))


Devereaux inhaled shakily, pulling his hand free from the angel’s after a moment. Instead he enveloped the creature he loved so in his arms, pressing his face into the angel’s hair. The demon gently rubbed Gilon’s back with his right hand, a low rumble being produced from his chest. “Ma cherie sounds so brave…” The rumble turned out to be a chuckle in the end, though it was more of a sad sound than anything. “You make it sound like you could care less about being cast out from your precious heavens and the pain you will go through.” Devereaux tightened his arms around the other, kissing at the angel’s hair gently. It was all he could do to make himself stay put at that point and to hold back any rash instincts. He’d made the right choice to skip the alcohol probably. At this point he was on the verge of either giving into that savage, carnal desire or leaving on a rampage fueled by wrath in search of hunters. The hunters that had gotten him had been dead for well over a millennium by then but that rage still boiled in the demon’s veins.


“You said it is worth it. Tell me, what makes it worth it in your world, Gilon?” Devereaux posed the question quietly, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and his head clear.


 
Gil returned the hug slowly, a little surprised. But then again he was always surprised by contact. He turned his head slightly to whisper in Dev's ear, "I'd rather stay by your side and suffer for it, than suffer myself for leaving you. I can't even imagine a life without you. Better to enjoy the rest of my time in heaven than hold onto it for an eternity of emptiness." What he said was true. He'd been in a sort of limbo for probably hundreds of years before he met Dev. When he was young and still being taught the ways of his work, he didn't feel quite so worthless. He had friends of the angelic sort then. But they were all passed on now, either fallen to the temptations of the human and demon worlds in their depression or killed doing their duty. He'd been assigned to mercenary work since birth practically. It was rare for angles in that field to last as long as he had. He blamed his survival on his angelic ability to freeze time for a few seconds at a time. It was unbelievably useful in a fight, but now he hardly fought anymore. He was only requested to go after the more dangerous demons. Otherwise he just supervised those in the field. And it was quite a bit of work, but remarkably boring. And empty feeling. He didn't see the change his supervision made, he didn't get to feel the satisfaction of eradicating evil one corrupt soul at a time. And it had slowly led him down into this abyss he couldn't escape from. But Dev was like a light at the end of the tunnel. He was the only one who made any of it all worth it.
 

Devereaux shifted his weight, sighing quietly as the angel’s warm breath tickled his ear. He had embraced more people than he could ever hope to count yet he never found any real pleasure in it. And yet, just the touch of this holy creature was enough to send his mind reeling. “Then, if you are so sure that you’re okay with staying with me and eventually being cast out you better be ready. And you better survive that fall.” He smiled slightly, kissing at Gilon’s hair between sentences and smiling. “And then after you survive and recover you’d better be ready for me to devour you and claim you as my own. I think sometimes you really do forget my nature.” Releasing Gilon, the demon turned away and stretched slightly. He couldn’t show anymore weakness to his beloved. Goodness no. “See, this is why I’m not sober often. I get far too serious.” He’d been drinking alcohol for the longest time, more to distract himself than anything. It kept him from rampaging at least, and when he was young that was just what he needed. Something to make him forget about the stuff he had seen and done and to make stuff that had long since become boring entertaining once more. He found that without the influences of alcohol that he had an almost entirely different personality from the one he had as a drunkard. He was practically dependent on its effects by this point.
 
(Yay for boredom)


Surprisingly, or maybe not so very much, Gil's prediction was exactly correct, even if his fall came much sooner than he would have suspected. Though some might have blamed Dev for his fall, he knew it was purely his actions that led to it. He could have gone along with the angels' request for him to go after Dev and kill him. He could have very well done that. But he had set himself on protecting Dev. And so he instead protested. And in turn was investigated. At least he knew Dev would be able to handle whoever they threw at him while Gil was in confinement. Killing a demon hunter often meant the wrath of the demon hunters was on the killer forever, and if they found they couldn't stop him they called in the angels. But Dev would be fine. He always had been able to handle these situations. The only difference was that he had to find out about Gil's imprisonment sooner or later. And that could lead to quite a mess of trouble. It didn't take long for the angels to find demonic traces in Gil's homes. And they didn't have to be rocket scientists to figure out that they belonged to Dev. Gil was immediately summoned to be publicly punished. Angels liked to watch the courses of justice after all. They wasted no time in ridding him of his wings, and by no means cleanly. They had a pair of angels tear them off with brute force, and didn't take time to patch the wounds before stripping him of his angelic purity and whipping him with spiked chains while he writhed. They also cast him off to the public's whims, throwing his feverish and spasming into the audience and leaving him to be beaten, cut, and probably even bitten. But that was not even the last of it. Once they managed to take him back from the mobs, using the ability of some strange angel, they deprived him of his senses. All but feeling. And this left him only with a constant throbbing pain as they subjected him to various tortures over his three day transformation. They could heal him of all the injuries they inflicted, using various heavenly medicines. They knew Gil wouldn't so much mind physical disfigurement as much as psychological disfigurement. Something as traumatic as that pain could leave him vegetative for the rest of his never-ending life. They broke his bones, branded him with various demonic symbols as Gil could tell from the sort of soulful pain they inflicted, and occasionally dislocated his fingers if he made any sort of movement. When he was being healed from his tortures, they would suspend him over a demonic flame given to them by some trusted demon. It burned like nothing else. It was hot enough to leave Gil sweating and his healing wounds peeling, but it also felt as though his very livelihood was being burned away bit by bit. It was a sort of horrific pain he never wished to have ever felt. And finally at the end of the last day, when they were healing him and his spasms were slowly fading away, they let the only wounds they hadn't healed (the ones where his wings had been ripped off and where the blood had scabbed into this sort of gelatinous black substance) be cauterized by the demonic flame as they returned his senses to him. His screams were not just blood-curdling. No, they were enough to haunt the carefree souls of both heaven and hell. Enough to leave his torturers shivering. They left him in what was left of clothes, that being some quite bloody and nearly shredded jeans, didn't bother to wash him which meant he was covered in dried blood, sweat, and a number of small scars ranging from hairline to burn scars. The only thing his mind could grasp for was hope, and he found it in the fact that none of the brands had left scars except for a pentagram on the left side of his chest. That and the scars from his wings were the only ones he was sure wouldn't fade. They sent him back to his log cabin, since it was his cabin after all. He'd bought it after having grown to love it. He didn't have to worry about a mortgage or anything like that. When he was an angel, it had been easy to take care of. Now he had no direction. And the only thing he could feel was pain. It was branded into his mind, those feelings. The only thing that could precede the feeling was the sound of his screams. And neither were really preferable. He simply lay on his bed, covered in sweat and blood, drifting through tortures as some of his abused muscles continued to twitch. His eyes were firmly shut, despite the fact that they were still moving involuntarily as the after effects of his suffering.
 
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