Devils on Parade

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Devils on Parade

Post  Aster on Thu Jul 14, 2011 12:50 am

Even in the darkness of the early morning, it was evident that the old church had been showing it's age for years. Once sturdy bricks had become weathered, colors fading and cement linings wearing down. The roof of the building was composed of shingles, with bunches of the stuff missing here and there around the surface. Beyond it's creaking, old-fashioned double doors rested rows of benches, worn and caked in a thick layer of dust. Crosses decorated the altar and the walls like birthday decorations, and it's windows were all of colorful stained glass, depicting religious figures most of whom Malcolm could only guess at. His hand gave an anxious twitch.

The boy sat perched on a bench in a corner of the church, near the two old wooden doors. His arms hugged his legs as he rested his chin up on his knees, violet eyes scanning the unkempt innards of the abandoned construct. He didn't like it there, in the church. He was never one for religious beliefs, and the place gave the constant impression that it could collapse into itself and take his life at the drop of a hat. As if he weren't plagued by the sensation enough as it was. And yet, the rickety dwelling was where he spent most of his time lately, during sunlit days when there were no bodies that could be spared. He had grown attached to the night since the curse took hold of him. It had become the only time when he could roam freely, without the usual impendence of death lingering close behind his back.

But tonight, Malcolm wouldn't roam the village streets. Tonight was special. After so many days of sitting huddled in the church's dank, ancient basement, and so many nights stalking aimlessly past the windows of the slumbering townfolk, Malcolm would once again finally feel the thrill of the hunt. The racing of his pulse, the push of air after a strong swing of his swords, the intoxicating feel of blood spattering across his skin, staining his blades and clothes with a brilliant crimson red...
And best of all, the feeling of relief when the hunt comes to a close. The feeling of his imminent death receding away into the air, if only for a short while. That is what he had come to live for, now. Those brief moments of release.

Malcolm felt a quiver spread across his lips. He focused it away.
"Keep it together. It won't be long now. As soon as the target's location is confirmed, the hunt will be on..."
That thought brought a smile to the boy's somber face.
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Re: Devils on Parade

Post  Anisen on Thu Jul 14, 2011 3:58 am

"Malcolm!"

The church doors slammed open with such force, it was a wonder they didn't splinter against the walls. Light streamed in, a haze of dust adrift in the air as a silhouette's shadow reached out between the pews all the way to the alter at the back of the room. The silhouette stepped into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet, despite the fact she walked so lightly she seemed to float.

"Malcolm, you little spider, where are you?"

Screaming on their hinges, the wooden doors closed heavily behind her, causing dust to stir and crumbs of plaster to tumble from the walls. She payed no mind to these imperfections; imperfections were something she didn't care to familiarize herself with. As she stepped briskly down the aisle between the pews, hair like platinum silk trailed behind her, her white dress flowing gently at her ankles, giving her the likeness of a bride. Her porcelain skin only further proved she was as close to perfection as a living being could get. She practically glowed in the dry, dimly lit enclosure. There had ever only been one imperfection in her life, a black, ugly stain that was beyond removal, and it was in the form of-

"Brother, you cannot-"

She reached the alter and spun around to survey the church with a calculative violet gaze, feeling like the ghost of a preacher who'd once stood in this very same spot. It was then that she saw him, in the corner by the doors, caressed by shadow. She let out an annoyed huff.

"The least you could do is answer me when I call. I am capable of losing my voice, you know."

A voice that could be soft as air or hard as steel… wild as fire or heavy as rain. Whatever was needed, she need only sing the right song, and the forces of Heaven and Hell and everything in between were at her command. When people claimed they'd heard the angels sing, it was probably her. But she preferred not to take credit, because humans were incredibly stupid creatures. They believed in gods and devils, but they had a habit of skewing reality to their liking with their silly stories and fantasies. Even if she told them that the angel's voice had caused the earthquake or drought or whatever crisis they'd been facing to begin with, they wouldn't believe her anyway, because the only truth they knew was their own. So be it. Let them live on in ignorance. It often made her life easier, and she'd take what she could get, given her brother seemed to enjoy making it a challenge.
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Re: Devils on Parade

Post  Aster on Mon Jul 18, 2011 4:14 pm

Her voice was unmistakable, not only due to the obvious reasons but because not one sound on Earth, in the heavens or in Hell could make Malcolm wince quite like the familiar noise of his sister bellowing her brother's name in agitation. The boy let out a long breath of air and counted the seconds. He was the only one who could judge how far she was by the sound of her voice, if only because most folks that heard it soon wound up spun into a series of very unfortunate events. Though on second thought, Malcolm mused, his relationship with her sounded strikingly similar.

The doors of the church burst open, a crashing display of piercing sounds, soaring dust and...
Malcolm's eyes grew wide. Bright, beaming light poured suddenly into the church, illuminating dark crevices and casting a multitude of shadows across the floor, the walls, and anything else the light could grab. He felt himself begin to tremble, as panic froze over his nerves. For just a moment, the shadows began to stir. Twisting and curling, hungry and alive, the silhouettes stretched out across the old wood, darting every which way into their bright new territory.

It was all too sudden. Malcolm couldn't focus, couldn't breathe. That feeling... the familiar sensation of death was there again, breathing hotly down the back of his neck, making his hearth throb painfully in his chest. There was no time, no chance to seize control of the wicked things. They would find him in seconds, and when they did... moons and stars, he didn't want to die. He had finally found something that made him feel alive. He was so close to scoring another kill, to quelling his nightmares again. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die! HE DIDN'T WANT TO-

And then it was over. All at once, the church's doors creaked painfully to a close, and the room was once again coated in darkness. The goosebumps on his skin began to recede, and through shuddering breaths, his pulse finally slowed. It had only been seconds. Only a handful of seconds, and Malcolm had become rattled and helpless. Shit, he thought to himself through his scrambled brain. Shit, shit shit. I was pathetic. I wasn't in control. Son of a bitch, why can't I just stay in control? It was too sudden... too fast... stars, it all happened too fucking fast...

He hadn't even heard the creaking of the floorboards as his sister strode promptly down the aisle and to the altar. His shaky eyes came to a focus on her, and he used the sight of her to reorganize his mind. She was radiance and perfection on a bad day and a Goddess on a good one. Even with the expressions of her face twisted with anger and a hint of disgust as she glared across the room at him, her lips spouting things he didn't bother tuning in to, Malcolm would be a fool to deny that his sister was anything short of breathtaking. A mortal man's eyes would stand no chance against her looks. But as Malcolm calmed from the scene moments before, he looked upon her with something far more resemblant to apathy than awe.

"What is it that you want, sister?" The words left him as if he were addressing a persistent telemarketer.
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Re: Devils on Parade

Post  Anisen on Mon Jan 02, 2012 4:55 pm

"What do I want? What I want is for you to stop sulking."

She eyed the filthy church pews with distaste, quickly deciding against sitting down. Instead, she strode to the alter. Standing behind it, she looked like an angel of judgement, ready to start condemning souls. She blew the dust from the aging wood, before propping her elbows on it's surface, leaning her chin on the back of her interlaced fingers.

"I found a target for you."
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Re: Devils on Parade

Post  Aster on Tue Jan 24, 2012 5:22 pm

A sickening wave of excitement washed over Malcolm, leaving goosebumps to dot his pale skin. His lips curled to a crooked smile and his eyes lit up with almost primal, hungry anticipation. Since the day he first drew blood and felt the claws of his demise relax their grip on him, a second, very different Malcolm took residence within the young man's head. This Malcolm, fed by the ever-growing seed of insanity that had taken root deep into the boy's psyche, had a particular fondness for taking life. A wicked, murderous cloud of thoughts shared by all of history's infamous serial killers.

Now it was both this Malcolm and the original, desperate to chase away the curse that bound him and his own malicious thoughts, that stared madly at the radiant girl at the altar.

"Do they look tougher than the last one? That purple-haired pansy was no fun at all... Lucy or whoever."
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Re: Devils on Parade

Post  Anisen on Tue Jan 24, 2012 7:12 pm

Ariadne examined her nails, looking bored.

"I don't know, Brother. Depends on your definition of tough. I've only seen him once. He wields twin blades, and he's either from another dimension or having the biggest fashion crisis I've ever seen. Who wears suspenders in this day and age?"
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