Sneak

The catwalk suddenly broke loose from its mounting. Victoria scrambled to hold onto the railing, but her feet couldn't get a grasp on the grating. She was going to fall. Victoria closed her eyes briefly, trying to think. Her messenger bag swung into her side roughly. She looked around. There, beneath her, was a small staircase, leading up to a windowless door. There was a small platform before it as well. Victoria looked down where her feet dangled, aiming. She swung her body around to move the messenger bag to a more ideal position and paused, collecting her breath. The drop was far, but she had fallen further before. Once, she had jumped off a roof. This wasn't too much different.

1...2...shit, I'm falling.

Victoria landed on her feet, but the force of hitting the concrete below buckled her legs, and she fell to her side, scraping her elbows. The bag came tumbling after. Her head spun at the impact. The drab green door stood before her, and the catwalk dangled above. Victoria sat up quickly and scanned the alley for signs of demon activity. Nothing. Tentatively, she got to her feet and walked toward the door. She reached into her bag for one of her hand-made smoke bombs. Just to be safe. She eased toward the door, tested the knob and quickly pressed her back to the wall beside it. No obvious sign of life. No sounds.

No, wait. There were sounds. And quite a lot of them too. She should have kept walking, but there was no way to be sure that she would be safe walking in the open street. This warehouse would keep her hidden just a little bit longer. Victoria's grip tightened on the smoke bomb as she prepared to go in. She caught the door with her foot as it swung closed, and peered inside.

Sounds

The chaotic sounds from the previous day had been absent for some time now. There were two ways to interpret the silence: one was that the demons were content with the destruction they had caused; The other was that they were ready for more. Interpretations of silence were often wrong, so most of the time people were more comfortable hearing pain and suffering on the wind rather than nothing at all. Silence meant plotting, and the longer the silence, the more intricate the plot.

Kioki decided to pack up and help outside. Kio's wings had mended nicely. They weren't quite as strong as they used to be, but it was about time to put them to good use again.

As the pots and pans were being packed away, the last pot seemed to make a bigger clang than the other supplies. Kio stopped and listened intently. The noises inside the warehouse all seemed to be accounted for except for one extra sound scraping around the catwalks outside. Kio did not quite know what to feel. These days a stray sound could be anything: friend or foe, angel or demon, and not necessarily respectively.

Kio decided to wait half of an hour. If nothing happened the sound would be investigated. If the roof suddenly caved in, and a demon sweetly and ferociously erased the contents of the warehouse in a matter of seconds then that would have to be dealt with appropriately. Either way, zhe was ready.

psssst

>.>
is anyone alive out there?
<.<

The Ninth Circle

            Fate… Fate is a tricky bitch. 

            The Boston industrial district, a glowering pinnacle in the battle to prove that without outside assistance human beings could trump the most awful things from every child’s nightmares. In the dark of the factories hidden between the hundreds of carcasses of dead animals, put through impossible tortures in life, and worse in death there was a beautiful artistry to this place, in the efficiency with which the human soul was broken into tiny pieces and blended back together into a slurry of fuck. It was the Mona Lisa of human depravity painted in blood, sweat, and shit…

And they say nothing beautiful ever lasts…

            The area stretched for miles and miles and endless collection of huge warehouses steam powered distilleries gathered like wasps around the equally endless docks and piers. It was a good three days as the crow flies from the center to any of the, bridges that connect the huge island of East Boston to the mainland.

            It’s almost a pity that it’s so removed from the mainland, the place unlike the rest of the city lost none of it’s original charm when things went bad, but nobody comes here. In most of the world the demons starved and died out but here, here in this maze of mesh and metal and fermented death. Here they were still quite alive. Here there was nowhere to hide or live or go but that they would fine you. Here the heat of coal fires that still burn quietly keep them warm in the winter, the rotting flesh feeds them, the echoing streets and warehouses give away you’re steps, and your breaths. Here the only thing that lives are them. The only thing that could live here are them.

            Cross knew better than anyone in the world that this was a hunting ground for demons an inescapable harem of death and slaughter. Cross would never, have led himself to this godforsaken place…

            But Fate… Fate is a tricky bitch.

Kioki

Hopeless came to mind.

Here lies a devastated world where death and destruction are treated like innocent toys, wielded by playful beasts wreaking havoc with every imaginative move. Self declared messiahs are standing on soap boxes everywhere, modestly attempting to scurry to the humble seat of Yertle in order to be seen by all. And as most people in the world were aware of at this point, god was dead.

Hopeless definitely came to mind.

Kio hung his head in despair as he sat in a warehouse and listened to the sounds of stagnant soil, the chorus of chaos, and the crunching. The crunching was the worst. The crunching and the screaming. The crunching and the screaming and the flames.

Above the World

Victoria could hear the demons coming long before she saw them. She darted quickly behind a small dented garbage can, holding her knees to her chest. The demons weren’t coming this way, she knew, but it didn’t hurt to stay out of the way until they were gone. It had been a while since the last demon incident, which meant that everyone in the tenement where she lived was becoming more and more cautious. They could strike at any moment. Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the pressure the demons’ presence inflicted on her sinuses, but like always, it didn’t work. Staring out at the grey street before her, Victoria tried to figure out another way to get to the bar on Main Street. She had a small sack of food waiting for her there, but the demons were heading in that direction as well. If she went back toward the tenement, but kept walking, and then made her way past the old firehouse, she could climb up to the small catwalk along the long row of apartments. That would keep her out of the demons’ sight for a while.

Soon, her head felt clear again, and Victoria peered out from behind the garbage can. The street was empty except for a trio of magpies and an empty can of soup, rolling and clattering as gravity pulled it along. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a beeping. She wasn’t sure what it was—she wasn’t sure what caused half of the noises she heard—but it was probably nothing to worry about. She stood up, readjusted her messenger bag, and started off on her detour.

There was a bell in the firehouse belfry. Once, the bell had rung endlessly as the demons’ attacks increased. Victoria was too young to remember much, but she remembered this bell. How after a while, it became background noise to the constant sirens and screams, the explosions, the metallic buzz of demons flying through the air or the sharp sound of their claws on asphalt. And one day, it fell silent, and she knew that the city had fallen. The streets had seemed emptier then, and every face she came upon seemed just as devoid of life. It hadn’t rung since, not even in a gust of wind. This was probably a good thing. The remaining population had nerves of spider’s silk. Well…that wasn’t entirely true.

Victoria spotted the ladder of the fire escape that would lead her to the catwalks. She moved a milk crate beneath the ladder, stood on top of it, and pulled on the string to release it. The ladder caught her on the shoulder. She hissed at the sting, and climbed up. Shadows of people moved on the other sides of the windows behind thick curtains made of bedsheets, and Victoria tried not to let her footsteps fall too loudly on the metal grating. She circled up and up, past attempts at a city garden, long withered, past laundry that consisted mostly of socks and t-shirts. Hanging anything too valuable was a bad idea. The apartment building was seven stories high, and Victoria had to hold her head against the dizziness. When she made it to the top, her breath caught at the view.

It wasn’t anything beautiful, unless the silhouette of singed buildings against a ghastly-looking sky could somehow be beautiful, but there was just so much of it. She knew the city was big, but she had never actually realised it. She laughed half-heartedly to herself as she spotted her tenement. There was also the demolished water tower far off in the distance. She saw dark spots that she knew must be demons, or places where they had stayed for extended periods of time. The bar was further to her left. She saw a figure walking down a main road. He had the recognisable gait of someone whose soul was about to eat him alive. Victoria didn't really understand the disease, as some of her mates were calling it, but she pitied the man.

A sudden gust brushed past her, and she realised that she was almost sticking out up here. She continued along. The catwalk was unstable, and at several points, the metal supports looked completely separate from the crumbling brick holes around them. Victoria looked down at the debris-filled streets, completely empty. She jumped across a gap between buildings, her heart racing as she grabbed for the railing to keep herself from falling. Jumping still wasn't her strongest talent. But, she was walking above the rest of the world, and for a moment, she thought that even though the world went to shit, and even though the world was literally hell on earth, how cool was it that she was above it all?

I've Never Been Good at Titles (1st Rhylin Post)

Here you go Chris, it's not all, but it's what I've been able to write so far and enough of a stopping point to post it. I'm hoping its understandable, but I know there are probably a few places where what the reader gets out of it is not exactly what I was thinking of, but everything will be further explained later.
Also stuff about wings... yeahhhh... just let me know XD

Um, for the new people I don't know at all... hi, I'm Katie aka Rhylin in the story.

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The wrought iron was overrun with vines that darted in and out of the twisting metal work, multiplying the intricacies with which the eye had to dance around in trying to read the simple lettering of the sign: FARLEY’s. Rhylin stood beneath the immense archway, forehead pressed against the rough bars of the gate, her hands curled tightly around the spires as they narrowed into a rusted joint. The air was thick, heavy with silence and a heat that had settled into Rhylin; her wings drooped beneath the cloak she wore, appearing withered, the expanse of them crumpled at her feet and coated in a fine layer of dust.

Just inside the gates, a bird alighted from its perch, startling Rhylin’s eyes open. She took a shallow breath, not wanting to take the stale, still air into her lungs, not wanting to fill herself with an emptiness she did not have the means to defy.  Wearily, Rhylin nudged open the small door inlaid in the gate and began her trek across the cemetery grounds.

As she neared the unmarked grave, Rhylin recalled the small mutilated body that lay below; its misshapen face beyond recognition. It had no nose. A flap of skin stretched from the forehead to cover the gaping hole. Snot dribbled from the spaces between stiches and crusted over on the top lip. The cheek bones were sharp peaks that threatened to split the taut, tissue paper skin. Green eyes, sunken into the face, had once roamed its surroundings intently, determined to reap all the benefits.

Reaching the edge of the plot, the muscle infused to the thin metal of her wings began to stretch and tear away from Rhylin’s back, sending tremors down the length of her spine and drawing out a long piercing scream that reverberated in the quiet that followed. Rhylin’s wings burned; it felt as if their own weight had been magnified and were now being ripped from her body.

Rhylin collapsed to her knees before the grave, tears flooding from her eyes; the ground beneath her hungrily absorbing them. Pounding her fists against the dirt and trembling with the effort to ignore the increasing spasms, Rhylin implored the deformed flesh underneath, “Release him.”


(I would also like to point out that the time posted lies, it is currently 4:36 am >.< )

Generic Q & A (always good to have one)

Got questions? Ask away! People with answers will reply asap XD

Baptism and Reconciliation

Orating and its Consequences

The whole town was gathered in the tiny bar on Main Street. If someone walked down the streets they would swear the whole place had been abandoned. Nothing moved. Not the wind, or the stay cats that roved, or the trash overflowing from the can. It was all still. All of the energy was centered in that tiny room hanging on every word that slipped gracefully from the mouth of the young man standing on the stage that was meant to hold a small band that entertained slightly drunken town folk.

He was quite a sight. He looked like a rapscallion with his hair grown out slightly and his beard beginning to grow in. But, he had an air of elegance about him. The words he spoke spun a web that had enticed the whole town like willing flies to the black widow’s feast. His blue eyes shone bright as his story picked up speed. The audience was enchanted. He had the magical ability to make everyone feel as if they were being spoken to directly.

“And then suddenly the sky was on fire!” There was a collective gasp. “This huge ball of flame came hurtling to the ground. I thought it was a meteor or a satellite, or god forbid one of those awful hulking beasts. When it collided in into the ground, the earth shook so hard I thought my skin would rip open. Then, everything became deathly still and the only thing I could think was ‘Get the hell out of here.’ What if was one of the monsters? But as soon as I took a step, I heard a voice in my head. “Come,” it said. So, I listened.” The man laughed at himself and the crowed let out their breath for a moment. “I went into the giant crater. Normal people don’t do that. But, voice implored me and there was no way I could deny it. The closer I got to the impact site, the warmer and more peaceful I felt.”

The crowd watched with bated breath. All except a single figure in the back sitting at the bar, half listening to the story she could recite from memory. New town, same story. Same gimmick to receive a warm bed and some scraps of food. She watched her brother build up speed at his tale began to approach its climax. He lived off of the rush. He lived to tell stories, and had found his calling in restoring hope to these small towns that trying just to stay on the map. She had followed him. No, not followed. She pledged herself to his cause, and joined him. After what she had seen at the beginning, she too let herself be bolstered and comforted by the soothing words. But after years, the magic had grown stale. It is easy to become disillusioned with hope, when you are constantly faced with the suffering of a God forsaken world.

“A voice then whispered, and I swear, I could hear it I my soul. It said, ‘God is dead.’” Madison let that news sink into the audience. He relished the drama of the moment before he spoke again. The fear that entered into their eyes. Their worst nightmare was realized. There was no one looking out for them. There was no higher cause. Their souls had been abandon and left to fester in oblivion. But, all was not lost, because he still had more to speak. “’Yes, God is dead,’ the voice echoed. ‘It is now up to you to find the new God, and raise him up like a phoenix reborn from the ashes!’ With that, a sword and shield were made from that crumpled mass of energy that lay in the center of the crater.” He unsheathed the sword that was strapped to his back. It was ethereal silver, and seemed to glow as he raised it over his head for the crowed to see. “I wield the Sword of Baptism, and my sister the Shield of Reconciliation.”

“We are here to right your wrongs,” It had come to here part of the script. She stood among them, shield off her back and strapped onto her arm. “And to find this world a new King.”

The crowed was talked aback by being addressed by someone behind them. They turned to face her, and met a warm smile like her brother’s. There was a cheer, and tears and whispered Hallelujah’s. They were saved. There was hope.

***

 “Leigh, are you ok?” Madison asked between bites. Their meal had been provided by one of the charitable families in town. After many questions and thank you’s, Leigh and Madison had been left to eat and be merry in a corner of the bar, while the rest of the town celebrated the news they had been given. The band had taken their rightful spot on their stage, and the bar was alive with dancing and cheer. They normally fed off the energy and celebrated right along with the town, but Leigh was disengaged from the scene.

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Really. I’m fine,” She rubbed her forehead. Her head was sodden with pain, she was trying not to let Madison know but it was futile. “I just have a bad feeling.”

All the joy vanished from Madison’s face. “Is there a monster on its way?”

“No. I mean I don’t know. There are a few really strong broadcasters here, and all I can hear is them.” Her eyes were back on her food. She hated talking about her “blessing” as Madison called it. “It doesn’t feel like a monster. It just feel’s,” She searched for words but couldn’t find any, “bad.” Her brother’s brow furrowed. “Madison, there is nothing to worry about. I’m just being over loaded.”

Madison locked eyes with her and gave a short curt nod. Then his face broke out into a huge grin, and he started talking about how they would help the town fortify it’s borders and tell them a little about defense against the monsters and then they would be on their way. Under the table, Madison’s foot made contact with Leigh’s leg. The contact was small and wouldn’t normally suffice, but it was Madison, Leigh knew no one in the world better. We are being watched.

Leigh nodded along to the words pouring from Madison’s mouth. She interjected a piece about also teaching them some basic first aid while she discreetly scanned the room for those watching them.

Sure enough, a table across the room kept stealing furtive glances. There were three burly men that Madison had spoken to upon entering the village. They seemed to be the leaders. It was not an official classification but everyone in the town trusted them and relied on their judgment for important decisions. The forth guest was a blonde girl, maybe one of their daughter’s. She was beautiful. Her hair had a slight curl to it and her skin was smooth and had a warm glow to it. Suddenly, the girl’s eyes snapped up, and met Leigh’s. Leigh was paralyzed; the deep blue eyes bore into her. There was not aggression, but there was a fire in the look.

The vision was overwhelming. Gold and silver limbs entwined together under the sheets. Fire falling from the sky, a figure being born from the impact. Then there were other figures. Some hulking, some flitting. Then a shadow, and a huge monster consuming the world for beneath them. His horns long and twisted, his tongue extended out  ripping people and inserting them into his fearsome jaws. His arms ripped through the world destroying all. But the figure that was born from the impact came back. He was glowing. The glow was not a definite color. He had transcended that state. He was pure glowing energy. That specter raised his hand towards the demon. And then, it dissolved into blackness.

Leigh’s body crumpled to the ground. Madison was immediately on his feet tending to her. Soon, she was in his arms and being lead towards a room upstairs to recover. The three men at the table looked at the girl, fear in their eyes. She didn’t acknowledge them. Instead she stood and followed Madison to the room upstairs. There was business to be discussed.