He had awoken from his sleep at the sound of a burning torch. "Always something, huh…" He muttered to himself, slowly getting up from the tree branch he rested on. 

Peering over the edge of the tree, he saw the boy, and tilted his head. "The hell is he doing in my forest? Does he even- Nah. Better not question anything now." He thought to himself. 

"Should I?"

He thought, carefully wandering through the trees surrounding him, not wanting to make any sound. "Maybe I should. I have no idea." As he fought with his mind, he was walking carefully, not making any sound what so ever. "I should probably just annoy him." He thought to himself, looking back at the boy with his pale lavender eyes.

Strange he was, never seen anyone with such colorful skin, as his own was as white as snow. He sat down in a tree just to the left of the boy.

"He might be fun to mess with. Or kill. His happiness levels aren't exactly jumping." He muttered to himself, making sure to check every inch of his soul. Then the boy started to move. 

"Dammit." He thought to himself, silently moving beside him, as he walked deeper into the forest. Slowly yet silently, he drew his sword from the right side of his sheath, being ready for anything, or anyone, to come along and mess him up. What he was doing?

That would be  anyone's guess.

Questions swirled around in his head.

"Who is he? Do I know him? Could this be a sign? Why would anyone come into my forest? Do I know him? He seems very familiar…" 

Maybe he did know him, maybe it was the other way around, but as he followed, he soon grew careless of keeping his silence, and as he stepped on the next branch of the tree, it let out a large snap. 

He watched the battle from the top of a rooftop, the only visible thing on his face?

His sparkling lavender eyes and his messy, shoulder length dark purple and blue hair.

He watched Asurael with great curiosity. Never before had he seen such a warrior that matched his skill.

He had reluctantly gone with the invaders only for the money. Then he was planning on killing them all.

He sighed a sad, long, and lonely sigh, as he watched the invaders get slayed one by one by Asurael. 

"Ugh, well I better get to it, as long as I don't get myself killed." He said, slowly walking off the rooftop, and sneaking past the battle field, trying to make his way to the city's center, to find what he was looking for. 

The only thing standing in his way? 

Asurael.

He was fighting, but had his eyes everywhere.

"God fucking dammit." He though, ducking through the back alley way, and running as fast as he could.

Only running into a alley, that was in direct view to Asurael. 

He locked eyes with him. 

"God fucking dammit"

He froze, sensing both things at once. It happened in a blur for him.

The figure pushing past the human, the human falling.

"He's debating to use his magic. Should I help him? Or should I kill the individual who made him fall, then help him?" At the word kill, he had a sudden adrenaline rush, and his sadistic side begin slowly showing, his eyes becoming a deep red rather than their gentle purple.

He shook his head, his eyes returning to their natural color.

He paused, before taking off in a full sprint. 

"What am I doing? I can't just let him get away!!" 

His eyes flooded with red, as he ran faster, jumping over bridges finally seeing who had pushed passed him, and pulling out his sword.

He could see the fear in his targets eyes, as he ran straight for the figure.

It all happened in a rush, but the feeling was over to quick. 

He had driven his sword into the heart of the man, his expression still full of fear. 

He heard gasps and cries from around him.

"I-its K-kaloshima! The Spirit of Death!" He heard someone cry.

"Correction." He said. "Spirit of Sin, Wrath, AND death." He said bowing. 

"Now." He said, whipping around, and walking to the bridge, bending down beside the man clinging to the branch and extending his hand. "Grab my hand.

Watching from the rooftop, a slender figure, with glowing purple eyes watched as the skilled warrior sliced his way through the city. 

"Heavily revolting." He said, following him slowly on the rooftops of the empty city. 

He walked quickly, and gracefully, making no noise despite the elevated wooden shoe he had, called okobo's. Never less, he was a spirit. A restless spirit. 

He would constantly roam in area's with dead humans. Only, they were not properly buried. He rose them up like smoke from a fire, and they killed anyone who were still alive. 

But here was this warrior. Slaying them like a knife to butter.

"Does he have no shame?" He spat, his eyes burning with a rage he has never felt before. But he controlled it, unexpectedly. 

He was full or adrenaline, his eyes fully red, his sadistic side just aching to get out. His hands shook with rage, he gripped his sword, but remained walking, only moving his legs, and head.

Of course he hated to see everything he worked destroyed like it was nothing. 

So he thought of a plan.

He walked calmly back to the warriors spear man, and began slaying them.

One. By. One 

The hushed tones in the city were cut short suddenly. Heads turned, and even a few screams were heard. Fully grown men began trembling.

Babies began crying.

Children hiding in every place that their little bodies could fit. Women fainting, and holding in their fear.

Once open shops began to close. Everyone began clearing the streets, as a figure in an all black cloak adorned is beautiful gems began walking through the city's streets. 

He placed his slender snow white hand on a fruit, and brought it to his hood, and bit into it. The fruit suddenly turned brown, and rotted in his hands. 

He began to squeeze the fruit until it exploded into a brown mushy pulp, some of it landing on a women's face. 

People began to scream as the women slowly turned into nothing but rotted flesh and bones, maggots and worms beginning to eat her flesh and clothes.

It looked as if she had been dead for ages. 

He slowly walked to the fountain the elf was sitting at. 

He began reaching his hands to his hood, and began pulling it off his face.

As he let the hood fall loosely around his shoulders, screams rang out. 

His face was pale white, no blemishes to be seen. His hair was messy, and flowing, only down to his shoulders, and dark blue fading to purple in color. His eyes where a bright lavender, his lips thin, and perfectly shaped. 

He looked down on the elf, with a gentle gaze.

Surely this wasn't the Spirit of Sin, Wrath, and Death, was it?

"Elf, I require your services." He said, his voice as smooth as honey, but as chilling as ice. 

"Surely someone like you could lead me to the God Worshiping Cult?

"GODDAMMIT JUST GIVE ME WHAT I ASKED FOR!" A sudden crash alerted many of his presence. The slender young boy had an elf's shirt collar in his hands, and had smashed several vases from his cart just by slamming his fist down on it. The elf was trembling in fear, not knowing what he did wrong. In fact, he had done nothing wrong. Then what had caused the Spirit of Sin, Death, and Wrath to be so blunt? Guards from the Hall of Indulgence had caught him stealing, and chased him across several cities, and he was now looking for something to keep the stolen item in. 

"Just give it to me already! I don't have much time!" He yelled, slamming his fist on the cart one more time, braking three more vases. He dropped the elf on the ground, as he rushed behind his cart, and shakily gave him a small bag. He grabbed it without hesitation, and stuffed a small statue into it. Just as he began running, a glowing white rope wrapped around his wrist. *Dammit! A Soul Rope!* He thought to himself, struggling against it.

But his struggling only ended up hurting him. The rope began to let off a white steam, and he winced, not wanting to show any weakness to the guards. He pulls out a sword, only to get another rope around his other wrist. "Fucking hell…" He said, all four of his swords, unsheathing themselves and cutting the rope with ease, before returning to their sheaths. He began running in the direction of the sea, pausing to only notice the Demon for a second, before disappearing under the water completely. 

He awoke. Sensing chaos. Feeling hatred. Knowing pain. All he wanted was to sleep until his pain would finally go to sleep. And now, all he hears is noise disrupting his sleep. 
Rising straight, looking forward, from a tree in a forest, not wanting to get up. His eyes flooding red from a sudden adrenaline rush, letting his sadistic side fully take over. "Whatever it is, let me help you." He would roll his eyes, and hop down from the tree, crushing a humans skull on the landing. "Whatever fucker woke me up, I'm rotting their eyes out of their skulls. Nobody wakes me up." He coldly snapped, walking out of the forest, bones crunching with every step. 

"You've got serious anger issues, kid." A voice in his head would say. But he didn't reply. He only was focused on murdering whoever woke him from his sleep. As he walked, anything living either crumbled into dust, or decayed on spot. Animals rotted, filling the air with a foul stench. He walked with purpose, but slowly, wanting no rush. He knew his victims would get what they deserved soon enough. Spirits of his stature could not smell, nor taste anything, but his emotions where heavily advanced, his vision and hearing sharper than any dogs, his sixth sense was toned perfectly.

His hands were shaking at the thought of blood on his hands and robes. Nothing made him happier than sucking the happiness out of other people and implanting his pain into them, watching it kill them slowly. His sadistic nature replaces his masochistic and suicidal tendencies with a completely different consciousness entirely. Perhaps its his past. Perhaps his present. Either way, its not stopping him

He would reach the scene of the battle with the most rage and hate he has felt in forever. The pain he feels at his peak, his eyes bloodshot and deep red, his hands balled into fists. Then suddenly, he calmed down. Seeing a god on Revaliir was surprising. Its not like he's never seen one. Its just fighting with another mortal. Not wanting to get himself killed, or worse, banished to some place, he decided to sit down and watch the battle. Finding a place supposedly safe, he settled in, and watched the battle unfold from his perch. 

 

For all of your random archive post needs! Home of the posts that fit in this box. 

She had been starring at the boy for what felt like hours. Rude of her, of course, but none-the-less, he was interesting. 

It was his eyes that had drawn her attention the most. 

How beautiful they looked, and how they shone brightly. 

She longed to have eyes that shone like his, unlike her empty, broken orbs. 

The longer she looked, the more sadness grew inside her, as she tore her eyes away from the boy. 

Another rumble of thunder from overhead, and people began rushing indoors as the rain began pouring down gently. 

But she calmly stepped out into the rain, letting it soak her beautiful flowering robes, and let is drench her smooth, glassy skin.

She looked up at the sky, and closed her eyes, not caring if the boy saw her this way.

Stretching her arms, letting the rain soak through her robes, run through her hair, and stick to her eyelashes.

Each small drop of water that hit the two large, circular bells on her headdress, they rang out, lonely and sad. 

The rain hitting the windows of the streets and shops let little children look through the windows and at the lonely spirit. 

Slowly, the undead began to wander into the city streets, bringing with them their decayed and rotted flesh, and filled the air with the foulest stench.

She slowly began to lower her arms, and open her eyes to look at her new, rather odd figures she liked to call her friends.

But she couldn't help herself to succumb to the feeling of letting her head turn slightly to the northeast, to peer at the vampric boy she had found herself admiring earlier.