Tag: Esial Arnassas

Everything Stays…

Two problems had made themselves very apparent in the past few weeks. First, there was a vampire hunter on the loose. The underground had been absolutely abuzz about it. Descriptions varied too much to pin down the perpetrator, but the few witnesses who had made it out alive remembered the sound of bells. 
Second, the Devil had upped the reward for the return of his son. The city’s demons had been working double-time to hunt him down; a chaotic mess of violent mistakes that had sent more than one party on a one way trip back to Hell.

And each story that met Esial’s ears sent a shiver down his spine.

It was dawn by the time he made it back to his trailer. Dogs from neighbors in the park growled and whined as he walked past. He pulled the wad of cash from his pocket and flipped through it; not a bad night. Two more weeks of this and he would be able to afford that vacation he wanted.

He unlocked he door and headed inside, hanging his jacket up on the coat rack and keeping his shoes off the carpet. He stretched and took in the musty smell of his trailer; he needed new air fresheners. This end of the city was so damp that it was nigh impossible to keep the smell out; harder still with half of his time spent at the fire station. He made a mental note and walked to the bathroom.

Esial took a long, hard look in the mirror. His hair clumped a bit from the fading product and sweat from a long night of work at Cassidy’s. He ran his fingers through it, separating stuck strands and pulling it back out of his face. His gaze fell then on the scar peeking out from under his eye patch and he became aware of the pain that lingered there. He took the patch off and let out a relieved breath as a thick, purple haze began to flow up from the freed socket. He needed a weekend without that thing on, a weekend to let what was left of that eye rest without fear of running into some startled mortal.

But he had another shift at Cassidy’s tonight and Sunday marked another week at the Fire Station.

With his eye free and the fear of the outside world passing with the exuding haze, Esial dropped his glamor. His ivory skin took on its familiar purple hue. He watched his horns and wings fade back into existence; wings stretching out as well as they could in the cramped bathroom. He didn’t have to worry here.

Esial turned on the sink and splashed his face with water. He was going to get some sleep today. He was going to go through the motions and enjoy a quiet rest.

His cell phone rang. Azurla. He ignored her; she was the last thing he needed right now. He went back to his routine; brushed his teeth, combed out his hair. His phone buzzed. A new message. Azurla never bothered to leave a message. She usually just showed up a few hours later.

Esial left the bathroom and started down the hall. He unlocked his phone.

“You have one new voice message. First message:”

Bells.

Esial dropped the phone and kicked it back towards the bathroom. He stood, frozen in the hallway, wings wrapped protectively around himself as he stared at it. The hazy socket throbbed.

Why was it so hard to just live a normal life?

Marty McFly and Magic Mike (Bonus if together) ;P

((The following is by no means canon))

“Okay officer, I will admit that I am drunk right now, but that is the dumbest idea have

I ever heard.”

Despite his better judgement, Doyle took another sip from his flask. His gaze drifted to a lone piece of dust floating in the corner of the interrogation room. When was the last time anyone had cleaned this place?
When Xanthe didn’t respond, Doyle continued, “I don’t even know how you figured out I could do that. Hell, I don’t even know how I figured out I could do that.” He went to take another drink but Xanthe swatted the flask from his hand. The contents inside the flask spilled to the floor.

“Listen up you obnoxious whelp,” Xanthe growled. He wasn’t sure how much more of Doyle’s attitude he could take. “If you don’t send me back I’ll have you thrown in prison.”
Doyle rolled his eyes. “For what?”
“Public drunkenness,” Xanthe answered. Doyle’s face remained unamused. He continued, “and illegal necromancy.”

“That’s bullshit!” Doyle cried. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up. “You an’ I an’ you both know I can’t make goddamn zombies!”
Xanthe grinned. “Oh, sure, but it’s the best way to make sure you’re magic’s all locked up until there are laws about Chronomancy.” He laughed to himself. “Besides, that’s an easy enough bit to pull off.”

Doyle sighed, defeated. “Fine,” he said. “Lets…lets just be quick, yeah? Far as I’m concerned this stuffs only good for makin’ sure the milk don’t spoil.”

Doyle gestured for Xanthe to put his hands on the table. The pair locked eyes, as best as Doyle could, and breathed in sync with one another.
Doyle gave instruction, “you gotta focus on the exact time and place or this’ll get messy. Trust me, you don’t want it to get messy.”
Xanthe nodded and the lights in the interrogation room went out.

The world went dark.

When Xanthe awoke his head was pounding. His stomach lurched and the room felt like it was spinning.
“You okay, sug?” a voice echoed off the walls.
When the world around him evened out he took in his surroundings. The room he was in was dark, with the exception of blue and red neon lights granting enough light by which to see. Beneath him was carpet, and the smell of booze hung in the air. He couldn’t find Doyle, but the voice he had heard came from an older looking woman. She was dressed like a tart, short skirt and too much makeup. She offered him a hand.
“Can ya stand up?”

Xanthe took her hand and stood.

He realized that the pounding in his head was moreso the sound of the heavy bass music carrying itself through the establishment. The woman smiled at him.
“Well thank the stars, I’d cut back on the drinks honey.” Her expression was warm. “You need me to call a cab?”
Xanthe shook his head. “No, I’m all right.” His diction was perfect. His head cleared more now that he was standing, and the woman must have noted this. She nodded and headed off down a red lit hallway.

It had worked.

Xanthe didn’t even care about finding Doyle. He raced off down a blue hall into a large open room with a stage on the south wall. Spotlights gleamed down, reflecting off the erect pole at center stage, the the glistening skin of the man hanging from it. Even now Xanthe could not avoid the blush that came to his cheeks as he watched the stripper perform. Sweat from the workout and the stage lights shone like dew in his raven hair all swooped back out of his face. He twisted and turned to face the audience, a scar visible just below the eyepatch over his left eye.

Esial.

Xanthe took a seat and watched the whole performance; moved by the astounding grace and entranced by his sculpted body. It was enough to make him want to faint again, but he had work to do.

He snuck to the back room once the display was over, careful not to grab any wary attention, and peered inside. Esial was alone. He knocked.
“Just a minute!” Esial called. Xanthe opened the door anyway. Esial turned and his face fell first into astonishment and then into anger. “What the heck are you doing here?”
“Essy, please,” Xanthe started. Esial stood up.
“Don’t you Essy me! Get the heck out of here! Security!” Esial called. Xanthe knew he didn’t have long.

“Essy, I want to apologize!” Xanthe pleaded.

Esial raised a brow.