Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Flaming Dead Man on 13-07-2012, 09:56:46</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 09:56:46</strong>
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				As punishment for deeds he hadn’t committed, Zadkiel was made a captive of his own mind.&nbsp; His wings were bound tightly in silver chains, wrapped over his weakened, mortal chest so tightly that they would’ve suffocated any real mortal.&nbsp; The bones of his wings shattered under their pressure, rendering them utterly useless; even if he should manage to find a way free of the binds, he’d been stripped of his supernatural will and lacked the capability of healing them on his own.&nbsp; It was humiliating; though he knew he was innocent, he couldn’t argue a word in protest.&nbsp; He was silent and helpless as he was carried over water and dropped near the shoreline, the lingering essence of immortality the only thing keeping his near-human body from drowning to death.<br><br>It wasn’t until he washed up on the shore that he could finally grip the granules of sand beneath him.&nbsp; He felt cold for the first time in ages — a sensation he’d long forgotten — and the coarse grain against his bare skin was nearly painful.&nbsp; He began to cough, relieving his lungs what felt like gallons of salty seawater; as the acid-like liquid pushed from the air-deprived organs, he felt aflame, burning from the inside.<br><br>He didn’t know Hell, not personally, nor did he have any desire to.&nbsp; The way he felt in that moment, however, felt close enough to make him ill.&nbsp; The early morning left a deep chill in his flesh, biting harshly at his skin and eyes, and the bitterness was already swelling inside him; he’d been reaped of everything, not even giving a moment’s chance before he was thrown out.&nbsp; How could such a place be called ‘Heaven’ and ‘just’?&nbsp; He had centuries under his belt, and it was only during that moment and the few that preceded it that he realized how thick the air of lies surrounding that realm and all those relative truly was.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Braioch</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 10:09:21</strong>
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				The air was cooler here, always was when you stood by the ocean, yet the sun was beating hot down onto him. He always enjoyed mortal cities, especially the ones built on the sea side, they held a quiet mystique, at least when you weren't around the noisy tourist trap boardwalks. Even Demon's liked peace and quiet, especially Demon Lords. So much prattling and whining, plus the other various activities, if it was the more enjoyable parts where his favored souls went, it was noisy in it's own right, the less fun parts, far away from the fun ones, was obviously pitched and noisy beyond all belief.<br><br>He'd been ruling his own little pocket of hell for millenia, he was allowed to shirk his duty for a few decades now and then to enjoy whatever the fuck he wanted. Smoke billowed from his mouth as he watched the romantic couple next to him, enjoying the warm day tempered by the cool ocean's breeze. Ahh love, such a funny thing, something he hadn't really enjoyed truly since the Fall oh so very long ago. Flings with a demon here, or perhaps a mortal he was taken with, but never much more than that. Still it amused him to watch humans doing it left and right, though not nearly as much as the fucking that they did.<br><br>Mortals, oh they were fun, he didn't look down on them exactly, it was obvious that he was above them in many ways, that was obvious. Still he knew full well that without humans he wouldn't even be where he was nor would any other demon, even if other demons may despise humanity. He found them intriguing, with their short lives filled with pain, love, hope, despair, loss, fucking, drugs, booze, sleep, food, adventure, all these many themes and events crammed into a mere handful of decades. What was 60 years to an eternal being? A blink of the eye, a grain of sand in the rough of the ground.<br><br>"To see the world in a grain of sand," he muttered with a faint chuckle. Yes, they were intriguing, but oh so amusing toys too. He picked and chose what he did with each mortal, some were toys for him to play with till he threw them to the side, broken or whole, some were merely chew toys for his darker ambitions, some were genuine interests he would have tore the throat out of any of the other Lords of hell to keep whole and safe.<br><br>Straightening suddenly, noticing that the man, rather than the woman next to him looked briefly in the direction he did. A ripple, a shuddering wave that shook the energies around him hit everyone of his senses, making his head spin for the briefest of moments. No mortal would have seen the golden flash in the far distance, though obviously the more sensitive ones could sense what had just occured. Heaven had opened it's maw and spat out the unworthy unto this unsuspecting and unknowing realm of mortality.<br><br>"Such is the will of Heaven," he muttered darkly, keeping his eyes on the horizon, his senses on full alert, and himself cloaked.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 10:37:08</strong>
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				As Zadkiel lied there, beached and in agony, he slowly began to notice a few things: first, though the chains were tight around his chest, enough to crush his formerly strong, beautiful wings, he was able to breathe easily within them; second, the chains passed through the sand he lied on, as if it didn’t exist; thirdly, he could see, hear, nor feel nothing beyond the five mortal senses.&nbsp; It was the last of the three that had any affect on his mood, and it outright horrified him.&nbsp; While he was normally allowed to sense intention, power, and see truth in disguise, he’d been stripped to the bare essentials, and even these seemed duller than they once were.<br><br>He carefully lifted himself to his knees, his muscles sore and each pull at his back causing spiking pain over his broken nerves; he felt like he was made of glass and barbed wire.<br><br>He was utterly distracted from those in the distance; he’d washed up on a somewhat secluded section of the beach, visitors warded away by the gnarls of growth and the treacherous-looking rocks that sought the sky.&nbsp; It was probably a good thing that he was so far off; he was naked — which was of no worry to him — and to watch someone crawl from the sea, perfectly unharmed (to the mortal eye) was something from fiction.&nbsp; He hobbled toward the rocks, allowing himself to collapse into the sand between two rather large formations, shielding himself from view and from the ocean’s cool breeze.<br><br>He had to think, to gather himself to survive this.&nbsp; He could feel pangs of hunger that he’d not felt since he was human, but the act of feeding — especially in this modern world — felt foreign to him.&nbsp; The languages he once knew — of humans and angels alike — had been forgotten; he was left with his native tongue alone, which meant he’d likely be stranded if he just so happened to wash up on the wrong shore.<br><br>… So, what to do?<br><br>He supposed he could wait it out and hide there until night fell, then go in search of clothing and sustenance.&nbsp; Thirst suddenly overcame him, as well, though the notion of consuming the acid-like seawater was out of the question.&nbsp; He just had to hope that night would come quickly and he’d have some luck with his coming, unwanted adventure.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Braioch</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 10:47:45</strong>
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				Angel....<br><br>It wasn't just some random soul that had transgressed enough, but an actual bloody angel. He could taste it on the ethereal wind of the area. If it wasn't then he was bloody imp from the worst cesspool of the wastelands, and he bloody well wasn't. An angel hadn't been cast out in millenia and the last one had lasted all of a few years before someone in the Hells had found the poor sod and ended his life.<br><br>Oh wait, that was him.<br><br>He smirked, turning on his heel, moving down the extended lonely boardwalk, shoes disappearing in a flash of heat from his feet. He leapt over the guardrail, ignoring the startled noises of the people who witnessed him as he landed the rather large drop, missing the rocks easily and hitting the soft sand. A few people, curious to see what was wrong with him, followed to the edge, but he continued to ignore them as he moved through the sand. Shirt billowing slightly in the breeze, glasses blotting out the sun's harsh glare.<br><br>Whoever it was was still rather disoriented, and obviously still radiating it's last bits of heavenly grace, straight up condemned it seemed, the celestial aura was fading fast. That was a straight up forced exile, not the nice willing one that Azrael had taken thousands of years before all of this. He wondered briefly where that particular morbid bastard was, owed him a few favors he did for hunting down a few tricky souls causing problems, would have to look him up later.<br><br>He reached the less populated parts, rocks and beach boulders dotting the landscape, rough brush intertwined between the rocky landscape. It was no problem to move up onto a rock and move his way across like any old mortal from rock to rock. Pausing now and then to glance out at the sea, he supposed it was a nicer place to fall than where he and his fellows had first been thrown. That was a long time ago, but it's hard to forget. The pride and joy of being one of the first humans made angel, only to have it turned back around into a curse when he dared speak against God's will and fight for what was right.<br><br>Deities.<br><br>He stopped, making a startled noise as he stopped on one of the rocks, "and there by the grace of God."<br><br>Raising his brows at the naked figure below him, he cocked his head, remembering for the moment he was playing like he was a mortal, not that the bugger would know the difference at the moment, "you uhh...you alright down there buddy?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>18-01-2013, 09:38:27</strong>
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				Zadkiel hadn't noticed the approach of the 'mortal being' until the man spoke; the voice alone brought him from a quick-coming, deep stupor of shock and despair.&nbsp; He startled slightly and sat himself up, still panting lightly with a rasp.&nbsp; He <em>knew</em> this language, he was sure of it, but the meaning of words was lost to his newly reaped brain.&nbsp; He paused, shutting his eyes and holding his hands over his face to force focus into his emptied mind.&nbsp; This wasn't his homeland from his natural mortal life, but he was intelligent.&nbsp; He could figure it out...<br><br>He replayed the moment and made note of his tone; the man was concerned.&nbsp; It was only right that he should be: there was a nude man, sheltered between rocks and looking quite destitute, so he presumed.&nbsp; He supposed he was just lucky the man seemed caring enough not to take the opportunity, one way or another.&nbsp; He cleared his throat and gazed at him, taking in his image the best his mortal eyes could.<br><br>"...Where are we?" the natural Italian attempted, figuring playing a broken, lost, and forgotten man would be best in such a case.&nbsp; Unfortunately, a bit of the panic that came with such a man's mind crept right along with it; as adrenaline rushed him, he looked around frantically and his voice took the fractured hitch one might expect, "Where <em>are</em> we?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Braioch</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 03:27:06</strong>
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				He wanted to laugh, but restrained himself, unwilling to give away the illusion of being a friendly and helpful Samaritan. To be fair, the angel couldn't do much of anything in the state he was in anyways, it was all fun and games for himself. His morals were shaky, and his values were questionable, sometimes good, sometimes not so good. But when it came to angels, the possibility of compassion and honesty was nonexistent. Even fallen, they were sworn against his type and that was fine by him, he had gained more than enough power over several thousands of years to protect himself and even lash out several times as well. The newly fallen ones were just a testament to God's failures, and fresh easy prey for those like himself who wanted a new toy.<br><br>This one was all his.<br><br>Frowning as he crotched down, hesitantly placing a hand on the mans shoulder to keep him from moving. Though unlikely, the fallen angel could be suffering from some sort of mortal ailment in the time it took him to get to shore. He had the idea he had been thrown in the sea and had washed up here. Confused and speaking a rather old form of italian, the fallen one wasn't a whole lot of intelligence and cleverness at the moment.<br><br>"You're alright," he managed in a halting but clear modern day Italian, establishing the part of a decently cultured man, though not foolish enough to speak the older Italian. "You're outside the city of..." He paused as if seeing if there was a word in Italian for Los Angeles, on one of the few beaches not filthy and egraded, so he 'winged it,' "Los Angeles? Yes, but...do you know what happened to you?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 07:38:40</strong>
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				Zadkiel's gaze snapped back to his possible savior as the hand came to rest on his shoulder and his gaze met the man's almost sharply.&nbsp; The words he spoke were much like his own, but the dialect was strange and felt very foreign, almost as if from a different time...<br><br>His gaze dropped and he shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts.&nbsp; He felt he was losing part of himself more quickly than he could remember it.&nbsp; He'd <em>chosen</em> a path of mortality instead of pride in his immortal, winged glory.&nbsp; He ran his hands through his hair, still trembling from the rush of adrenaline and the event he could only fleetingly remember.&nbsp; Another shake of his head in response to the man's question and he shrank inwardly, bringing his knees up to harbor his covered face.<br><br>"...I... I fell..." he answered, his tone distant as was the memory, "...Fell forever...&nbsp; And then frozen needles..."&nbsp; His hands shifted instead to wrap over his stomach, as if it might help with sick.&nbsp; "...<em>Burning</em>..."&nbsp; He attempted to focus, to remember past a growing headache, only making the pain worse.&nbsp; He felt silent, his trembling becoming a mere side-effect of the cold.<br><br>His wings remained, as did the chains binding them, though Zadkiel could only know their ache.&nbsp; He was no less angel than when he crawled onto the shore, lacking only the perks associated with it, though the wall of mortality sealed his knowledge of it deep within the confines of his mind, bringing forth what he knew of his human self to replace it.<br><br>It was a choice meant to be permanent, but wasn't entirely irreversable.&nbsp; Not for a demon lord.<br><br>"...I need rest..."&nbsp; His consciousness was clearly diminishing, his mind forcing him to restart, to seal the door and allow Zadkiel to pick up where he left off in his human life.&nbsp; The headache was overwhelming, and even behind closed lids, he was starting to see white.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Wings and Anguish  (Braioch + FDM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Braioch</strong> on <strong>26-01-2013, 11:11:41</strong>
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				Sheesh, power locked up tight within him, knowledge gone and helpless as a fucking baby. When heaven levied its punishment on the once faithful, it let the whole dams worth burst forth onto the poor sod in question. At least when the first fall had happened, they had been cast into the void that eventually became the different hells, power diminished, knowledge diminished too, connection from the Almighty gone, but that last one was okay. Still they were thrown to a place that would be theres, not helpless and alone into the realm of humans, made mortal in a place where mortality was a short lived state of being.<br><br>Ahh well, he was on vacation and needed something to do, he supposed, had he been still human, he would have said his prayers were answered. Yet he knew prayers were for idiots, you got what you got from effort, skill, and a bit of luck. This one was mainly luck, how long it lasted would be based on the former two and a dash of the luck that brought the fallen angel here.<br><br>First things first, getting the bastard out of here before some angelic scout came to check up on his progress, or another demon tried to make a play for the fallen one. No Lords nearby, not unless they were cloaking themselves, which in a city that he had claimed as his territory, was a breach of the laws. A minor one, and more socially wrong than legally, but still, minor demons flitted all over the damn place, not adhering to laws and below the sight lines of those greater demons like himself, able to go wherever and report to their master. He would know, he had several of them in effect at the moment himself.<br><br>What he needed was for the fucker to pass out, would make transport easier, especially since heaven hadn't saw fit to add clothes to the punishment. Not that he was complaining, the now human angel was a fine sight for the eyes of the damned one, but still, one couldn't go walking around with a naked, half conscious guy on your back and not expect to attract attention. <br><br>Right. Well.<br><br>Giving a glance as the once angel slipped in and out of consciousness, he sighed and with a jolt, helped the fallen one decide on unconsciousness. Checking to see that was all that had happened, never know when one was a weak as this one had been, he grabbed ahold of the fallen angel and slung him over his shoulder. With a flash of fire, sudden and bright, he was gone from the beach. In an instant standing in the penthouse in the heart of the city, all modern, decadent and very much his style.<br><br>Laying the man out on the guest bed and calling up a doctor of repute and whom owed him one too many favors, he fixed himself a drink while he waited. A good smoke and half a glass of good scotch would do it. He had always found having a vice in each hand while looking out from the balcony on the city would do wonders for his thinking, better than the moans and shrieks of hell, depending on what side of his hell you were on. One side for the ones he didn't like, one for the ones whom he did, and sometimes, depending on the soul or being in question, the treatments didn't differ too much.<br><br>But here, now? <br><br>What to do with the angel now?
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