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

[AbyssHarlequin]

Devereaux was the type even demons would shy away from when his wrath was invoked. But, how would a young (and most likely drunk) demon hunter know what she was getting into? Ah, that is correct. She wouldn’t. And acting on a sort of instinct of a hunter she would go after the flesh of the same kind of wretched beast she was trained to kill. To Devereaux, the fool intoxicated by alcohol and ecstasy to the point of being nearly senseless, it was a sort of wakeup slap when the blonde girl plunged a small dagger engraved with holy psalms into his left hand. The shriek wrenched from his throat made the young hunter pause, and ah, what a grave mistake on her part. The poor girl didn’t even have time to react to the unholy creature’s sudden lurch forward before he sank his sharp fangs into her jugular. The scream ripped from the young soul’s throat sounded anything but human at the pain of Death coming with its chilling touch and the horror that she had become the prey instead. It was an almost instinctual action for the demon though and it wasn’t until there was the click of a bullet sliding into the barrel of a gun as the hammer was drawn back that he returned to his senses. He didn’t really think much of the lifeless girl lying next to him, soaking the sheets clothing his form with blood. It was only to be expected with such an inexperienced human attacking an old demon. He glanced from the dark sienna eyes void of all signs of life to the gun pointed at him from the doorway by a trembling demon hunter. Ah, what a pain. This whole place must be infested with these vermin. Yes, that is what the demon thought as he stood, letting the remains of his glamour slip away as he tied the crimson-dyed sheet around his waist. Recalling back on it, Devereaux really has no good explanation for why he killed the other demon hunters he found in the brothel. He just did it without a second thought at the time. Senseless slaughter really. It was when a holy angel appeared before him that it occurred to Devereaux that he had messed up.


“I, Lymryer, have come to put an end to your sinful doings. Go easy on me, ‘kay?” Devereaux blinked slowly at the flaxen-haired being that had his arms folded behind his back as he bowed shallowly to the demon. When he rose again the amber-eyed angel grinned before sticking his tongue out at Devereaux. “Sorry I’m not that Sharpe fellow you pestered a lot though. I’m not the same as that fox.”


Here was where the demon’s face changed. He finished his wine off before throwing the crystal glass on the floor and walking over to the angel. He was probably a good foot and a half taller, looming over the shorter male. “Excuse me?” The grin widened on the angel’s face at the reaction as he looked up at the demon through his flaxen bangs.


“Pff, this really is better than I expected. So it’s true that he is a traitor. Refusing to kill you and having traces of you in his room. This really is great. Ah, but I think it would have been better if they had decided to force him to kill you instead of just casting him down. No, even better would have been if he had to watch me kill you.” The angel scoffed at the demon, stomping on Devereaux’s foot as he spoke the last sentence before grinding it from left to right slowly. “That’s a good look on your face. You mad? I am too. No one listens to little Lymryer when he suggests such wonderful ideas. Though I do suppose the tourture that traitor has gone through is worse than watching his precious demon die.” Devereaux grabbed a handful of the angel’s long hair, his other hand going to grab the front of his white robes and lift him slowly so that they were eye to eye. His lips were drawn back in a snarl, his brows knitted together and his eyes reflecting Lymryer as he gazed at the bringer of news with absolute hate.


“Look, I don’t feel like dirtying my hands today with your disgusting blood. I really just came to stir you up and let you have a look at the face of the angel that will certainly take your life some day. Why don’t you go visit that fallen angel of yours? Or are you going to stay here and wet yourself at the thought of the beautiful Lymryer coming after your sinful self?” Lymryer snickered quietly, grabbing onto the arm suspending him above ground with one hand. He held up his other hand, showing light hairline scars to the demon. “Benefaciat vobis Deus, O anima peccatrix.” The thin scars seemed to crack, leaving out the Light of the Heavens not but a few inches from the demon’s face. Devereaux dropped the angel, his hands going up to his burning eyes instead. Lymryer smirked, standing and dusting off his white robes before stepping back and disappearing through a portal back to the Heavens.


It was once Devereaux had allowed the pain and temporary blindness run its course that he donned a jacket and a hat. With a wave of his arm the demon suspended a temporary portal, his eyes dark as he thought of his dearest Gilon. Fallen. All because of him. He gritted his teeth before stepping into the portal. It was his fault that Gilon would be in the state he found him. He closed the portal behind him once he stepped onto the porch of the former angel’s cabin. It was all his fault for losing himself in wrath. No, it was that girl’s fault. That stupid little girl’s fault. She was the one who attacked him. No, it was still his own fault, for he had no reason to kill the other hunters. Devereaux shook his head slightly before opening the door and entering the cabin. He closed the door quietly behind him, eyes scanning the dark abode slowly before settling on the bedroom door of the former angel. He took a deep breath before walking over and knocking quietly on the door. Another deep breath. He gripped the door handle, biting his lip for a second before removing his hat and opening the door.


“Gilon. It’s Devereaux.” He spoke the words just barely above a whisper as he stood in the doorway, eyes resting on his beaten and abused object of affection. “Will you let me help you, even though this is my fault?”

 

[Scrypt]

Gil let out a small sigh, his eyes barely opening as he tried to pinpoint whatever it was he'd just heard. Everything had been so drawn out, so white and empty for much too long. The words seemed to reveal themselves in slow motion, each barely making any sense until finally, by some miracle, Gil figured out what the hell was going on. His eyes peeled all the way open, darting around the room as he gained his bearings. After a moment or so to get over the dead-weight feeling of his muscles, Gil attempted to push himself up on his elbows. It hurt. A lot. Too much. But with a grimace and a push, he somehow ended up with his shoulders supported by the pillows and his arms straining to hold the weight the pillows wouldn't. "Dev?" he asked, though the name was barely decipherable with how breathless he was. His gaze finally settled on the figure entering the room. "How d'you..." he began to ask, interrupted by a sharp pain as one of his arms slipped and he involuntarily rolled onto his side, cradling the arm against his chest and focusing on his breathing while the sudden fire the had ignited all throughout his body faded. He managed to keep his eyes open, though that wasn't necessarily a good thing with the sort of horrific look they conveyed. The pain was disturbingly familiar and Gil couldn't help but remember what had happened to him over the past few days. He almost panicked, some animal instinct inside him telling him to run away or at the very least throw a few punches. But he reminded himself that doing either of those things would leave him a crumpled, screaming mass of pain on the hardwood floor. Laying idle on the bed seemed the better option. "What's even...oh my god what's even happening?" he voiced his confusion, even forgetting Dev was there for a second. "Why...?" he started, compulsively swinging his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up, and raising his hands to cover his ears as a shrill sounds began to fill his head. Sure it hurt but too much was happening at once for him to tend to any particular thing. He was panting, but agonizingly slowly, each breath labored and shaky, even such a basic act an obvious strain for him. He felt a heat rush through his nerves, rising from his feet till the sensation reached his head, making him feel as though he was encased in flames. But he had some sort of sense left in him, even if everything that was happening was absolutely terrifying and made him want to just disappear, to just stop feeling. But he could see he was, in fact, not on fire. It was just a feeling. Just a nightmare that had escaped outside of his dreams and somehow found a way to inhabit him, to fill him with every bad feeling there was. So he just sat there, frozen, scared, waiting for the nightmare to pass.

 

[AbyssHarlequin]

Devereaux’s brows drew together slightly at the sight of the other male in such pain. He slowly stepped into the room and closed the door partially behind him before walking over to crouch in front of Gil. He didn’t say anything, he simply watched the man he had fallen in love with, desperately trying to find a solution in his mind. He held a hand out to Gilon after a second, simply to offer the feeling of closeness a familiar being in hopes of bringing comfort. After a second he spoke quietly, despite the fallen being’s ears being covered still, “Do you need a drink? Water? What about your wounds? A bath, maybe?” He paused before shifting to kneel in front of Gilon, his head bowed and his hand still extended. His next words were but a whisper that could be carried away by the winds, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to go through this because of my actions. I’m sorry that I do not know how to help you.” Devereaux was a drunkard and a frequenter of brothel’s. He wasn’t anywhere near being an expert in the dealings of tending to an angel that had been beaten and cast out by his own kind. Angels are just as cruel, if not more so, than most demons. He looked up at Gilon again, searching the former angel’s face slowly with his eyes. So this was what it felt like to see the love of your life in such great pain and yet to know that you were unable to do anything. What a terrible feeling, something Devereaux wished he could stomp down and crush underfoot rather than enduring it. “Gilon, my love, are you listening? If so, can you tell me what you need? I’ll do anything, even go to the ends of every realm just to ease your pain. I’m sorry I let you go through this, but, you’re not alone now. I’m here. And I’m not drunk for once. I’m sure I would be even less help if I was. I’d probably pass out on your kitchen counter or something.” He let out a nervous laugh, trying to produce something helpful to say instead of senseless and probably useless babble. He lowered his head again, running one hand through his hair before moving from kneeling to sitting with his back against the bed on the floor to the right of Gilon. Maybe he would stop rambling until he had his thoughts sorted out. That sounded like a better plan honestly but he didn’t want Gilon to think he had given up. He extended his hand again to Gilon once more, turning his head and offering a warm half-smile. “Gil, you’re not alone babe. I’m here. I can identify with your situation in my own way.” He decided to leave out the parts about how it was because of demon hunters for the moment since it would refer back to why he had senselessly slaughtered those innocent humans. He also decided to leave out how when he was recovering he was taken care of by a demonic brothel full of imps, incubi and succubi, and various other mid and lower ranked demons. Such details weren’t really needed at the moment anyway, right?

 

[Scrypt]

Gil listened to Dev, despite having his hands covering his ears, despite the overwhelming detachment from reality consuming him, despite the pain and confusion. He could still hear Dev. And it made everything just a little clearer. Why had he done this? Easy. He had done this for Dev. Not because of him really. This wasn't something that had happened to him, it was something he had called upon himself. This was the chasm floor of the cliff he'd been dangling his feet off of for a long while. But he could still climb. He still had a reason to come back from all this, bruised and battered he may be. Dev was always the light at the end of the tunnel. Everything Gil had done, ever since they'd met, had something to do with Dev. This was not Dev's fault. Maybe it had something to do with fate, maybe there was some silly genetic reasoning for this, but really there was never an explanation for why people fell in love. The reason this had happened was Gil loved Dev, to the point that he'd rather undergo the fires of hell, even waltz with death, than cause Dev harm. It wasn't Dev's fault. It wasn't even Gil's fault. It had to do with whatever was between them, this thing both of them would fight and die for, but at the same time suffered from it. And so, as keeping with the strange dynamic of this relationship, Gil was overcome with relief and joy and thanks merely because Dev was there. He slid off of his seat on the bed, leaning against Dev as he sat beside him. He liked the closeness. The warmth he felt from Dev just being there. It was enough to drown out the nightmare. He moved to straddle Dev, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Dev's shoulder. This was why. This was all he needed. "I just want you to stay," Gil mumbled, almost choking on the words when he felt a few tears building in his eyes. It had been a rough ride, these past few days. But it was worth it. It was so worth it. And he was just grateful, glad that he had made the right decision.