[BCM] Rage
Oct. 15th, 2008 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alloces[Avnas = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
firesfallnangel, Castiel = soldier_ofgod, and follows THIS.]
He hurt. He hurt in ways he couldn’t even begin to explain. Usually he considered pain something that thrilled—he searched for it in his victim’s eyes, a sign that they understood what was happening to them, and then could feel the sweet relief when death finally came for them and the reaper took them away. A little bit of pain caused to himself was a motivator—something that edged him on, got his blood boiling. He loved the pain, but this wasn’t the kind of pain he loved.
This pain was mind numbing. It rattled his teeth and shook every part of his body. All he could feel was the burn of electricity against his skin. It was like someone had shoved hot magma down his throat and he was burning from the inside out. And when the smoke cleared, he fled.
Alloces never ran from anything. Then again Alloces usually didn’t have fear coursing through his veins.
If he had been in any rational kind of mood, he would have seen that his pride and gusto had made him feel over confident. He went in there with the intent to kill, and had it not been for that last blast of lightening, he probably would have succeeded. But that thought was of no comfort, and all he could do was hit the floor of wherever he landed—smooth hardwood that felt cool against the burning of his skin—and pray that he had brought himself to friendlier hands, as he couldn’t even remember where he had asked to be taken to. It was the barest of thoughts, a brief whisp of a wish before the mind-breaking pain had taken over and all thoughts were reduced to that of babbling and incoherence, words and sentences jumbled to the point where they didn’t make sense, and he felt as though his body was going to blow apart from the wounds he had received.
All that was able to be conveyed clearly was rage. Rage pushed at every seam of burnt skin, threatening to make his body explode more than anything else. He was filed down to his basic demonic nature, and all he could feel was pain and the wrath at the fact that the bird had taken advantage of him. Gravely injuring his own form in the process, but that wasn’t relevant. What was relevant was that Alloces had been damaged as well, and all he wanted to do was lash out and try and make him feel the same kind of pain that he was feeling right now.
He knew the scent of the place he was lying in. It was familiar. Almost like home. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around, trying to make his eyes focus on the planes in the wall, the colors of the room. He rallied against the black and white formless shades that were falling into place in front of him, and while his eyes searched for detail, form, they were too badly burnt out from his encounter with the angel to do any better. Even looking at things through the demonic shield that his power could afford him, he still couldn’t see anything more than a few edgeless areas that blurred into each other and didn’t make any sense. His eyes closed again and he tried to focus on other senses, hoping that somehow they would help him make more of a sense of things. Then he picked up a scent, the wisps of a presence that he would know anywhere in a heartbeat.
Avnas.
She was his, she always had been, and he knew her. His mind must have been searching for comfort and it took him here. She hadn’t been there in days, and the musk in the smell was obvious of that, but it was still hers, and it was at least a place to go when he had no where else. If he couldn’t derive comfort from his lover herself, he could at least do it from what used to be hers.
He tried his best to push himself up, his body shaking and quivering under his weight, before summoning what little energy he had left to hold himself together. This body wouldn’t carry him physically, but demons were never all that worried about physical transportation anyway. It was a quick memory of cool sheets and the bodies entangled in them that got him from the wood floor of the hallway, to the soft—albeit dusty—covers of her bed. He could smell the stale stench of sulfur and sweat and closed his eyes, a small token of safety enveloping him, and he sent out one last cry of distress—one that he knew given her current condition she probably couldn’t hear, but if there was some small chance she could—he didn’t want to be alone.
I need you.
814 words
firesfallnangel, Castiel = soldier_ofgod, and follows THIS.]He hurt. He hurt in ways he couldn’t even begin to explain. Usually he considered pain something that thrilled—he searched for it in his victim’s eyes, a sign that they understood what was happening to them, and then could feel the sweet relief when death finally came for them and the reaper took them away. A little bit of pain caused to himself was a motivator—something that edged him on, got his blood boiling. He loved the pain, but this wasn’t the kind of pain he loved.
This pain was mind numbing. It rattled his teeth and shook every part of his body. All he could feel was the burn of electricity against his skin. It was like someone had shoved hot magma down his throat and he was burning from the inside out. And when the smoke cleared, he fled.
Alloces never ran from anything. Then again Alloces usually didn’t have fear coursing through his veins.
If he had been in any rational kind of mood, he would have seen that his pride and gusto had made him feel over confident. He went in there with the intent to kill, and had it not been for that last blast of lightening, he probably would have succeeded. But that thought was of no comfort, and all he could do was hit the floor of wherever he landed—smooth hardwood that felt cool against the burning of his skin—and pray that he had brought himself to friendlier hands, as he couldn’t even remember where he had asked to be taken to. It was the barest of thoughts, a brief whisp of a wish before the mind-breaking pain had taken over and all thoughts were reduced to that of babbling and incoherence, words and sentences jumbled to the point where they didn’t make sense, and he felt as though his body was going to blow apart from the wounds he had received.
All that was able to be conveyed clearly was rage. Rage pushed at every seam of burnt skin, threatening to make his body explode more than anything else. He was filed down to his basic demonic nature, and all he could feel was pain and the wrath at the fact that the bird had taken advantage of him. Gravely injuring his own form in the process, but that wasn’t relevant. What was relevant was that Alloces had been damaged as well, and all he wanted to do was lash out and try and make him feel the same kind of pain that he was feeling right now.
He knew the scent of the place he was lying in. It was familiar. Almost like home. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around, trying to make his eyes focus on the planes in the wall, the colors of the room. He rallied against the black and white formless shades that were falling into place in front of him, and while his eyes searched for detail, form, they were too badly burnt out from his encounter with the angel to do any better. Even looking at things through the demonic shield that his power could afford him, he still couldn’t see anything more than a few edgeless areas that blurred into each other and didn’t make any sense. His eyes closed again and he tried to focus on other senses, hoping that somehow they would help him make more of a sense of things. Then he picked up a scent, the wisps of a presence that he would know anywhere in a heartbeat.
Avnas.
She was his, she always had been, and he knew her. His mind must have been searching for comfort and it took him here. She hadn’t been there in days, and the musk in the smell was obvious of that, but it was still hers, and it was at least a place to go when he had no where else. If he couldn’t derive comfort from his lover herself, he could at least do it from what used to be hers.
He tried his best to push himself up, his body shaking and quivering under his weight, before summoning what little energy he had left to hold himself together. This body wouldn’t carry him physically, but demons were never all that worried about physical transportation anyway. It was a quick memory of cool sheets and the bodies entangled in them that got him from the wood floor of the hallway, to the soft—albeit dusty—covers of her bed. He could smell the stale stench of sulfur and sweat and closed his eyes, a small token of safety enveloping him, and he sent out one last cry of distress—one that he knew given her current condition she probably couldn’t hear, but if there was some small chance she could—he didn’t want to be alone.
I need you.
814 words
