Demons of the Past
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		<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Non-Adult Sandbox =&gt; Non-Adult Roleplays =&gt; Topic started by: MicrowavePizza on June 28, 2019, 01:53:18 pm</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>June 28, 2019, 01:53:18 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				My mother always used to tell me that when our family lived in England, we were nobility. Not like, a king or a Duke or anything super impressive, but definitely nobility. We had an Earl in our family, or a Baron or something. And then she would show me the rings.<br><br>They were very pretty rings; one was wrought in gold with a crest on it. Mother said it was something called a signet ring and used to stamp wax seals, acting like a signature when a letter was sealed. Plus, you'd know who sent it just by looking at the wax.<br><br>The other was beautiful, and probably worth a lot of money. Made of silver that never seemed to tarnish, it housed an emerald-cut sapphire of the deepest blue I'd ever seen. Sometimes she would let me try them on and I would go around calling myself 'M'lord' and bowing to my mother, asking if she'd 'care to daaaahnce'. Oh, and I'd use the worst English accent I could... because our family was English, you see.<br><br>Well, it made sense in my head!<br><br>I'd tried to trace our family tree, but I was never able to find much information on them. Mum said it's because we changed our name when we emigrated and all the old records with the old name had been destroyed. Now we were known as the Fantom's and we weren't nobility anymore. I went to a public high school, for God's sake.<br><br>In fact, if anything, my life was painfully normal. School, homework. More school. More homework. Bullies. Chess club. Bullies. The normal, you know? Having an ancestor that was an Earl certainly wasn't helping me survive tenth grade.<br><br>Every day was like the one before (but I wasn't in a poor, provincial town).<br><br>Until one day, it wasn't...<br><br>I had just got off the bus and was on my way down my driveway when the front door flew open and my mother, looking as though the devil was on her tail, came flying out to meet me. She pressed a velvet box in my hand; the box that the rings were kept in, and told me to run.<br><br>"Mum! What's going on!? What's happ--"<br><br>"Run!" She practically screamed at me, pushing me back down the driveway just as two other men emerged from the house. I couldn't see their faces, but they had guns.<br><br>Guns!? They had guns!<br><br>"GO!" She screamed again and I didn't know what to do. I took off running, but I was no track star. I pumped my legs as hard as I could but as two shots split the air behind me, my mother screamed again, and then fell silent.&nbsp; I stumbled and fell shoulder-first in shock. Hitting the ground hard, I had the breath knocked out of me, but I didn't have time to try and recover. I had to scramble to my feet again keep running, I had to keep running because I heard the clatter of feet behind me, of people shouting, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Probably telling me to stop, but I couldn't stop. They *shot* my mother!<br><br>What the actual fuck was going on!?<br><br>Still running as fast as I could, I jumped a fence, ducked into an empty backyard and pressed myself back under a large flowering bush. I kept raking my hands through my thick, black hair, rocking back and forth and trying my best not to hyperventilate.<br>Help! Oh, someone ... anyone! I need someone's help, please!"<br><br>I could hear the two voices; they sounded like they were still in the street, but getting closer with every second. If they each picked a side, and flanked around the house, I'd be screwed. There'd be no one for me to run.<br><br>My breathing was faster now, I was wheezing I was breathing so hard. "Please, please, please, I need help. I don't care who, please, just help me!" I could hear the desperation in my voice voice, thick with tears that I was trying to hold back...<br><br>And then... then the air becomes strangely quiet. I can hear the voices of the two men, but they sound far away, like they're talking through water. When I look through the branches of the bush, it's as though the sky has gone dark, shadowy, like dusk. But it's barely four PM.<br><br>Cutting through the quiet is the click of heels on the concrete patio stones. I can't see a face, only two legs that seem to stretch up forever<br><br>_____________<br><br><br>The sweet sensation of pleas met a demon's ear and in a moment, it was all over for the child. Yes, a child they were, compared to their thousands of years of living. His potential master was a young teenager this time; a commoner's upbringing with an Earl's blood. They could smell it on him, the rich scent of a plutocrat running through his veins. It made the situation all the more delicious, tension and fear shuddering through his prey-no, client's body. <br><br>They were a tall drink of water, the heels to their leather boots clicking on the pavement as they drew closer. The darkness seemed to shroud around their body, welcoming their master home. The only thing shining through the darkness at 4 PM was eyes, gleaming yellow and pearly white teeth. Their figure was slender, shoulders squaring up sharply in their suit black as soot. <br><br>Clip Clip<br><br>They strolled closer, nostrils flaring as they took in the sweet afternoon scent of grass and dread. All was silent save for the heavy breathing of the child and the droll of the village idiots lefts behind. No cricket symphonies could be heard nor the lifeless melody of suburban life. <br><br>"Your pleas of help, I could not pass up." Their velvety voice called out calmly, as if they had all the time in the world at their fingertips. <br><br>"I heard your desperation, but are you willing to accept the consequences?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>June 29, 2019, 07:03:51 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The shrub that the boy had taken refuge in was a poor hiding spot at best, but it had been the only one available to him and he cowered underneath it, clutching the polished wooden&nbsp; box to his chest, and waiting. He could hear the two men, their voices were growing louder now; they were just on the other side of the fence, it wasn't going to be long until they found him. And what they wanted with him was a question that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to. <br><br><br>Closing his eyes, the boy repeated his plea in silence, praying that someone was listening to him. And when he opened them again, everything was different. He was still the same, though, curled up on himself with the box in his white-knuckled hands, and staring with a wide-eyed desperation that was an alien expression on his young face. <br><br>But everything else? That was different. Though it was barely 4 PM, the sky had darkened to be almost like dusk and the boy could hear the men's voices, but they sounded garbled and far away. There was... another voice. This one was clear and it sounded as though it was coming from above him. The teen pressed himself further into the flowering bush in case this was some sort of trap, something cooked up by the two men that had been chasing him. Or even something that his fevered, fractured mind was doing in a mis-guided effort to protect the teen from the reality that seemed more and more like a nightmare.<br><br>But still, there was a sort of blasé calm to the this voice, as though whoever they were, they weren't at all bothered by the desperation&nbsp; that had caused the boy to call out to whoever was listening. Was -- this real? Whoever this mystery saviour was, were they real? Would a figment of his own imagination and fear sound so <em>bored</em> with the whole situation?<br><br>The teen with the unusual greyish-blue hair pushed his bangs away from his face and he took a chance, pulling aside the branches of the shrub and let his blue eyes wander up the slender form that was standing there, obviously waiting for an answer. <br><br>"If you're here to help me," the boy said, "then yes! Whatever the consequences are, I'll accept them!" <br><br>Reckless, perhaps, but the boy didn't see any other way out of this. He could have tried to run but there were two men and they each had guns. They'd already killed his mother and he did not want to know why they were so interested in him that they were willing to spill blood. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>July 01, 2019, 03:58:48 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Their face, oddly enough, was full of warmth. Perhaps it was warmed from the fires of hell, their smile and expression wide and friendly. Their eyes, crinkled at the edges from a wide, close-mouthed grin, were completely normal. Not too normal perhaps; they were in fact silver but no longer looked like they were demonically possessed. Sinfully silky black hair caressed down their slender neck, just at shoulder length. Stripes of grey ran down their suit, like cigarette smoke.<br><br>The darkness seemed to have sunk back when the young master wasn't looking, the demon's face peering down into the leaves wasn't obscured by shade at all. It was as if one word turned the world back normal. Bent down on one knee, they offered a hand to them. Suddenly the situation didn't seem so out of the ordinary save for their funeral-like attire. Was it all a dream? The sky turning dark as night? From an outsider's point of view, it was almost cute; a man kneeling down to help a hiding boy out of the brush. Was that his little brother? If only the truth was that mundane and easily explainable. <br><br>"Wonderful. Let us seal the deal." They said coolly, smile diminishing to a smirk. Did they really expect a handshake at a time like this? Were they enjoying dragging this out to the absolute last second? The young master didn't have time to loose, the gunmen's shoes scraping on pavement ever closer. They probably had only a few seconds. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>July 01, 2019, 07:50:15 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"D-deal? What deal? What are you <em>talking</em> about!?" The boy was panicking and near hysteria. He knew that he didn't have time to ask questions now. Any inquiries about the situation would have to be saved for later, but still, there was something about this whole situation that felt strange... almost ominous. Just who was this person and how did they manage to show up at exactly the right time, just as the teenager had been pleading with the universe to send help. <br><br>There was still a part of the teen that didn't believe any of this was real. It was a nightmare and he was going to wake up from it at any moment. He even wasted a precious moment clenching his eyes shut and then popping them open to see if anything changed. But, no, the sky had been such a strange dusk-like dark that had seemed real. The footsteps of the two men were growing ever closer and that pale hand was still extended forward, waiting for him to take it. To shake on a deal. <br><br>Extending his own hand, the boy knew that it was now or never. Whatever this deal was, he was going to have to agree to it. He placed his smaller palm against the the one offered to him and took a deep breath. <br><br>"I'll take whatever the consequences are, just please, help me!" The boy finally said again, his words coming in a rush of fear and desperation. He had no idea what was he was roping himself into, but at the moment, he didn't care.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>July 02, 2019, 12:03:18 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"How adorable..."</em> They thought and couldn't help but chuckle lightly. This one was going to be fun to mess with. <br><br>"Your wish is my command." The demon purred, gently taking his hand and instead placing a dainty kiss atop his knuckles. Their lips were surprisingly soft on the delicate skin at the back of his hand. <br><br>And with that, the demon clasped tighter and pulled him out of the brush to his feet, right out in the open. They were both standing, his head bobbing over the fence easily, revealing their position. With a clamer of footsteps, in an instant the two thugs stood before them. Both were pretty lousy to look at and utterly mundane. The demon wrinkled his nose, catching a whiff of their disgustingly lower-class stench. Why, they were not even on their level. The guns didn't even stand a chance of hurting him or his master, hardly anything to worry about, but yet the dullards pointed them at them anyways. <br><br>Yet, they didn't even flinch; not even as the barrel of a Glock 22 was leveled to their nose. They just stared the thug in the eyes and said two simple words-<br><br>"Get lost," <br><br>And they did. With a distant look in their eyes the two killers slipped their weapons back in their coats, turned on their heels, and left walking down the sidewalk. The demon and his master was finally alone and safe.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>July 03, 2019, 01:58:50 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The boy was confused. <br><br>He could feel the soft lips of his rescuer against his knuckles, and he had a sudden urge to snatch his hand away. He didn't, mind you, as he still had no real idea of what was going on. But stil... there was something odd about the gesture and the teen didn't know if he'd appreciated it or not. Maybe once he had a clearer idea of what was actually happening, he'd feel different. And voice that seemed to slip out of the being was as smooth as silk and dark as velvet. A voice like that, the boy had never heard before. <br><br>Giving his head a shake, the teen didn't even have a chance to relax. He heard the clamouring footsteps of the two thugs and he shrunk back against his saviour, though inside he cursed himself for acting like a baby. He couldn't help it though. Those were the two men that killed his mother -- she was dead now because of them. His stomach churned sickeningly and the boy's world tipped to the right. He stumbled down onto his knees, pressing his hands against his eyes, as though he was waiting to hear the second round of gunshots and didn't want to see the outcome. <br><br>He waited. <br><br>But no gunshots split the air. Just that odd, melodious voice of the being that saved him, and then the thugs began to walk awas as though they had completely forgotten why they'd been chasing the boy in the first place. <br><br>"How did you -- <em>who</em> are you-- Where did you..." The boy kept trying to get the questions out, but full sentences seemed to be beyond his ken at the moment. He was breathing hard and the edges of his vision were going grey. All the color drained from his face and the boy slumped over. <br><br>The afternoon, so far, had been too much for him&nbsp; and he slipped into a faint. <br><br>Maybe when he awoke, he'd be out of this terrible nightmare... 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>July 14, 2019, 03:47:00 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The demon sprung forward, catching him before he could hit the ground and quickly sweeping him into their arms bridal style. He peered down into their face, silver eyes raking over the shape of his nose and closed eyes, drinking in his unmarred visage. The boy seemed to be breathing, evident by the rise and fall of his chest. <br><br>"Rather great timing." They murmured, starting to stroll down the sidewalk with ease. They cradled him close so that his head wouldn't loll and jerk with each step further from his home, his childhood. The sky, once a lazy day warmed from the summer sun peaking in between fluff was now covered with dark rain clouds; a summer shower to cool off the late afternoon. <br><br>Plip. Plip. <br><br>Two drops of rain stained the baked sidewalk and immediately absorbed on contact. More dropped, misting his master's face but they didn't stop, just picking up the pace. They needed to reach shelter soon before any nosy humans poked about. They'd be crawling all over the area; those gunshots weren't exactly quiet.<br><br>The day was crying on and off as the sun fell further into the sky, the demon walking past houses that turned into fields of harvest and cows. <br><br>"Now where is that cemetery....." They muttered to themself, arms not tiring a bit as they stopped at a fork in the road. It was around here somewhere. They vividly remembered its simple yet enduring stone mausoleum on the top of a hill looking down at the other fresh gravestones having just been carved. But that was a couple hundred years ago. The wooden ones of the poor would have rotted by now, that was certain. The sign post before them stood withered and chipped, splitting the road into two. One arrow pointed to the left reading "Greene Road". The other sign pointing right was broken in half, unreadable, and the path unpaved.<br><br>The road now littered with unkempt potholes and puddles, the demon's boots crunched as the road turned to gravel. Two more farms later, now cloaked in the woods, did they finally turn onto what looked like a gravel driveway continuing deeper into the forest. Graves littered both sides of the road contained by a rusted, wrought-iron fence.<br><br>Finally, they arrived just as thunder rumbled and the rain started up again. Past the broken gate hanging by a hinge, before them stood a plain mausoleum. Graffiti stained the sides but its chipped roman columns and stone ceiling provided reprieve and shelter. The large stone door stood ajar as the demon slipped inside. A grey angel without a nose and or hand peered at them both silently, its cherubic, marble gaze neutral and unseeing. In the middle of the room was a plain raised stone platform. Pine straw and dead leaves made a carpet underfoot, softly crunching as they laid the boy out gently. He took off his jacket and covered him up with it. <br><br>They were finally safe. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>July 15, 2019, 06:03:39 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The boy didn't know that he was being carried. Not really. He'd fainted after the events of the afternoon and his fevered mind felt it was kinder to keep him in a state of unconsciousness than to let him wake and remember the horror of what had just happened. He sometimes moaned softly, saying something that sounded suspiciously like 'mom', but his eyes never opened, not even with the rain started to fall and mix with the tears that were leaking from underneath his closed lids. <br><br>But his breathing was even and he wasn't panicking, yet. He was dreaming, though. Dreaming that he was running through a black void, arm outstretched, trying desperately to reach for the slowly retreating form of a tall woman with long blonde hair and a sweet smile. Her eyes were sad and she kept shaking her head as if to say that where she was going, the boy couldn't follow her. <br><br>The wind swirled around, catching the hem of the long white dress that the woman wore, tossing it, spinning it and she seemed to disappear into the folds of the fabric while the darkness grew more and more opporessive. The young man stopped, panting for breath, and stared at the spot where the vision of his mother had stood. His eyes frantically searched for her, darting to the left and right, hardly noticing that the void was starting to gather together like smoke, forming itself into the long and slender shape of a person. <br><br>The pale creature in front of him was the antithesis of his mother; but they held their hands out to the boy, urging him closer. He was hesitant and a cold ball of fear churned in his stomach, but there was no other choice. He couldn't go back the way he'd come, there was no way he'd be able to find his way through the thick, inky darkness that had swallowed his footsteps. The only way was forward and into the arms of this mysterious creature with the impassive expression on their face. The boy took step after step and finally put his hand into the out held palm offered to him. <br><br>And then the darkness began to fade slightly. <br><br>The boy's eyes began to flicker open and he exhaled a soft, confused sound. <em>Where</em> was he?! He sat up and pushed off the jacket that had been covering him and stared into the cool dimness that seemed to press down on his body. <br><br>The last thing he remembered was being in the neighbour's back yard and there were two men with guns! His heart jumped in fear and he almost tumbled off the stone platform in his haste to get a stock of his surroundings. Then there was the... person? The one who'd made the gunmen just leave him alone! Was it because of them that the boy was shivering slightly, standing with his arms wrapped around himself and looking around with a wary expression until he set his blue eyes on the creature who'd obviously brought him here in the first place.<br><br>He began to back up towards the wall, which was stupid in retrospect. He should have gone towards the door, but he hated the thought that anyone could be standing behind him. Finally, he found his voice and though it was trembling as strongly a he was, he could at least get out a full sentence this time. <br><br>"What in the hell just happened!? Who <em>are</em> you! Where are we?" Not the most insightful questions, perhaps, but the boy was just barely holding himself together and he'd done well to just ask those three instead of simply breaking down. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>July 18, 2019, 07:49:24 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The demon leaned against the wall, eyes closed, beside the only window to the outside. It was diamond shaped and just big enough to reveal a dark, overcast sky and wet vivid green dripping with the wind. Their frame was lithe and slender accentuated by a pair of suspenders. Their shirt was a light shade of charcoal, matching their jacket. Their fingers drummed against their forearms which were crossed, stopping abruptly when they heard his feet drag against the concrete and start demanding questions. Their heavy eyes lidded with long black lashes un-closed, silver irises now trained on him. Crickets chirped with the rain's gentle symphony. <br><br>"I'm not here to kill you, that would be pointless." They claimed, rolling their eyes and not bothering to straighten their posture. <br><br>"You may call me Rue. Did I not say I was here to help?" That's right, he had called for help in the middle of the crisis. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>July 18, 2019, 08:21:36 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The boy was beginning to calm slightly, at least, his breathing was back under control and he took a moment to push his hair back from his face. The creature ... person ... was standing there, staring at him with odd eyes that seemed to shine in the dim light of the mausoleum. They seemed perfectly at ease with the situation; like convincing two armed men to just turn tail and walk away was a normal, everyday occurrence for them. Just completely bog standard. Absolutely nothing weird here, nope. <br><br>Edging away from the wall, the teen let his shoulders relax. He believed this Rue, whoever they were, that they weren't going to kill him. After all, if they'd wanted to, they would have had ample opportunity to do so. So he took a deep breath, raked his hands through his hair again and took another step from the wall. There was still panic there, underneath the thin veneer of calm that the boy had managed to cultivate, but there was no point letting it out now. He had too many questions and he wanted some answers. <br><br>"Okay -- Rue. It's nice to meet you, I think. T-thank you for getting rid of those two guys with guns...." He paused and his hands found his slender hips. "How did you know I needed help, though? I mean, I was <em>hoping</em> someone would hear me... but how did you know?" <br><br>There was another pause and the boy realized that he hadn't introduced himself. "Oh, I'm Raine." And he held out his hand for a handshake. It seemed like the polite thing to do and he'd been taught to always be polite.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>July 26, 2019, 12:34:21 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Rue, who's eyes shone in the dark like a predator, looked down at his hand, a small flicker of surprise crossed their gaze before being buried again deep in their silvery depths. He straightened his posture and took Raine's hand in his and shook gently but firmly. This was possibly the first human gesture they made towards him. Their hand felt smooth but textured, callouses marking his palms and the pads of his fingers, encapsulating Raine's. <br><br>The boy resembled someone Rue once knew in that very moment, someone distant yet familiar tugging at the wrinkles and folds of their brain. The very thought of <em>them</em> made his dusty heart ache for a mere second before it was pushed away. That person was dead and had been for a long time. <br><br>"I could feel it, it's rather simple." As if that explained anything. Or did they actually want to? Rue withdrew from him, back at the window. Rain beat down harder, a gust of wind carrying cold drops in from the open window.<br><br>"Let's just say I'm very familiar with this area...." Rue said, trying to think of a way of explaining their bond without freaking them out but that was probably inevitable. Most usually did, except for a few who knew of their origins. The stone angel wept, tears of precipitation casting itself at her feet. <br><br>"Do you believe in God, Raine?" What a strange question to be asking in the presence of a cherub and the graveyard's dead. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>July 27, 2019, 02:37:14 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was easy to see the disappointment on Raine's features. He had been hoping for a more extensive explanation than what was given, but it was clear that Rue wasn't going to elaborate on what they already said. The teen's eyes narrowed briefly in irritation but he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Well, relax as much as he could, which really wasn't <em>much</em> at all. He crossed his arms in a tense 'X' over his chest and began to shift his weight back and forth. <br><br>Raine still had the vague sensation that he'd been dropped in a play and everyone had a script but him. He felt absolutely adrift, without an anchor keeping him from being swept out into a sea of confusion in which he was close to drowning. But here was Rue -- extending a lackadaisical hand to keep him above the water. And with nothing else to cling to, Raine hung onto his strange saviour with a sort of desperate fierceness. <br><br>The boy was about to ask more question. He had an absolute barrage of questions lined up but before he could take the breath to get them out, Rue dropped a question on him. And <strong>what</strong> a question it was. <br><br>Taken somewhat aback, Raine dropped his gaze to the stone floor of the mausoleum and he was silent for a long few moments before he looked up. His eyes snapped fiercely, burning with unshed tears and absolutely glaring at the demon. But when he spoke, his voice was restrained, shaking with anger, but restrained. "Fuck God." he said simply. Being in a graveyard changed approximately nothing about his opinion. "There's no God. If there was a God, they could have stopped what happened to my mom. What kind of God would allow something like that to happen! My mom never hurt anyone, she was a <em>good</em> person! She didn't deserve what happened to her and if there really was a God, they could have stopped it. They <strong>should</strong> have stopped it!" <br><br>The tears came again, Raine couldn't help it. He buried his face behind his hands and wept while the stone angel seem to cry in sympathy with him. The very skies outside seemed to cry with him and it was a good minute or so until his stormy sobs finally died down. <br><br>This had to stop, this crying thing. It wasn't going to change anything that had occurred and tears were poor salve for a raw soul. <br><br>"Sorry," Raine muttered, apologizing for both the crying jag and the vehemence in his voice when he spoke about his lack of faith in a God. For all he knew, whoever this Rue was, they were very religious. Now he was worried he'd offended them...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>August 23, 2019, 12:04:26 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The corner of Rue's mouth twitched and like a crack of lighting, burst into raucous laughter as soon as Raine finished his breakdown. It seemed there was no peace for the wicked. Yes, this one will be interesting indeed.<br><br>"Yes, fuck God. What did he ever do for us anyways?" Rue chuckled, wiping a tear out of the corner of their eye. Offense had been the farthest thing from their mind; they actually seemed amused, even smiling devilishly. <br><br>"Whether you believe in God or not, I am a patron of sorts..." They explained, feigning some sort of sympathy to entertain Raine with an explanation.<br><br>"I am the type of being to... be able to take advantage of a situation like yours, able to grant power and fortune." What a way to explain being a demon. His silver eyed gaze pinned him to the spot, neither discouraging nor encouraging more question. <br><br>"At a price, I help those who are unable to help themselves. In their dying moments and their most vital, I listen for those who are lost. And then I heard your voice crying out. How was I able to hear you, you asked?" Rue tilted their head to the side curiously, as if they weren't answering riddles. <br><br>"How could I not hear you? I am a being of indefinite power, this is how I turned the men with guns away."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>August 24, 2019, 06:37:58 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Raine couldn't say that he appreciated the laughter that echoed off the stone walls of the maseolum and a scowl crossed his features. His big blue eyes were puffy from crying but they narrowed slightly. But as annoyed as he seemed to be, there was a flicker of uncertainty deep in his gaze. He didn't really understand anything this Rue was saying to him; it was as though his saviour was speaking in riddles, almost. Well, maybe not riddles -- but certainly in a way that didn't at all jibe with reality. <br><br>Honestly, though, what <em>was</em> reality anymore? <br><br>Reailty was that his mother was dead. Shot by the same men that Rue had turned away with a simple word. <br><br>Reailty was that Raine had no other family that he knew of, not even an aunt or an uncle. Both sets of grandparents had either died before he was born or died when he was just a little boy. His mom and dad had both been only children and they carried on that tradition with him. <br><br>Reailty was that Rue could have been the only person in the world right now who gave a damn about what happened to him. <br><br>The boy sighed and raked his hand through his dark hair, such an odd color that it looked blue in certain lights and grey in others. The panic was there, still there under the thin layer of calm he'd managed to cultivate but if he gave into his panic now, he might never claw his way out from it so he turned back to Rue and squared his shoulders. <br><br>"You got rid of those guys with the guns, so you <em>must</em> have ... I don't know ... powers, I guess. And you found me even though there was no one else around -- but I don't have any money. I mean, not enough to pay someone who seems to do the things that you can do." That wasn't entirely true; he still had the wooden box with the rings but those were heirlooms and he wouldn't sell them for anything. And mom had some emergency cash back at the house, but that would entail getting <em>back</em> to the house. And what if there were more men's with guns waiting? <br><br>Oh! Shit! What if the police where there! Someone must have called them after what happened, right? Could they even go back to the house at all now!? <br><br>Raine suddenly felt out of his depths again and he looked up to Rue as though they would have all the answers. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MicrowavePizza</strong> on <strong>September 02, 2019, 09:13:47 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"No, my dear boy, you aren't paying with fortune." Rue said with the facade of a gentle nature. He took a good look at his new charge. They resembled a lost puppy, eyes big and watery from tears and half soaked from the rain. Soon they might get sick.... Humans were prone to that. Maybe he should have built a fire while Raine was asleep. <br><br>"We will get to that in due time. Right now, we must find us a safe place to lay our heads for the night." Wherever that may be, the graveyard must have just been a pit stop to their final destination for the evening. And with that, Rue dusted his pants off lightly, leaving his jacket to Raine who might appreciate it more. The rain, during the time they spent talking, slowed to a mist, coating the stone, moss, and dead outside until one could hardly see a foot in front of them. Their travels would be safe and hidden. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Demons of the Past</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RogueLady</strong> on <strong>September 04, 2019, 08:35:02 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Raine had to admit that he was confused. Or, at least, he admitted it to himself. He didn't want to take the risk of looking like a fool in front of Rue, so he just nodded and accepted the proffered jacket gratefully. His rain soaked clothing was beginning to chill him and the jacket was dry if not terribly warm. He wrapped it around his slight frame and pushed his hair back out of his face; a face that was oddly calm despite everything that had happened this afternoon. The only hint of panic was buried deep in his blue eyes and he was actively trying to keep it tapped down. Panic would do no good. <br><br>"I-if we had money, we could stay in a hotel, but that doesn't help without a credit card or something," the boy hunched his shoulders up and stared at the sodden landscape. "And there are probably police swarming around my house. At least, I assume they are after what happened." He tucked his bottom lip under his teeth and frowned as he moved towards the door that would lead back outside. With the ever encroaching darkness, the world suddenly seemed a very sinister place, shadowy and full of danger. He had never been the most nervy of boys, either, and his courage was failing him spectacularly at this moment. <br><br>"Can we just stay in here? It's not very warm, I guess, but it's dry..." 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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