Playing with the crazies

[emiko]

Layla had come to the Asylum to see what she could see. Crazy people were such fun, or so she thought. They seemed so...lost. Layla loved the sounds of their screaming, it sent chills down her spine. Even Kyle felt a thrill from the noise. She carried him against her chest, her careful eyes looking around as she walked through. The nurses here were strange, to be sure. There was no fear in Layla, she could have them killed very quickly. In fact, that was one of the reasons she was here. These psycho's were unstable, even on medication. They were easy to break, easy to wake up from their almost tranquilized state. Their emotions were easily changed and Layla was strong in that area. Her blue eyes were soft, almost caring as she peered into rooms and knocked on walls. She could hear noises from behind them.

Today she brought with her a knife, something she could use to kill or have others use if she wished. "This place is amazing," Kyle stated, having never been in such a place. "Yea, looks like it," Layla replied. She had no problem speaking to her bunny, though others may find it strange. She might have even ended up in the asylum herself. "I want to see them," Kyle muttered. The people here would be feeling the effects of having Layla around. Sadness would settle in and they would start feeling a little depressed. It wasn't enough to make them start feeling suicidal, just uncomfortable. Usually, Layla would feel afraid seeing as she was currently unprotected. She had no one around to protect her if she needed it, but among these weak people, she felt safe.

Although probably the weakest physically of the seven sins, she was probably stronger mentally. Though it was easy to make her sad and depressed, easy to make her feel bad about herself, no one could break her mind down to peices like the mentally ill here. They were unfit for society. Useless to the people. Layla had no reason to take any of them for her own. Kyle wanted her to show him the people here. She could feel some of the people pounding and clawing at the doors to their rooms, trying to be released. The people here were beyond help. "There is something different," Layla said curiously. Kyle seemed to mentally roll his eyes, making her feel a bit stupid. He knew what she meant, though.

Layla stood next to a door that was silent, putting her hand on the knob and turning it quietly. She stepped in, seeing a woman with crazed eyes sitting by a wall. In normal asylums, the humans didn't seem like animals. But here, they were different. There was something wrong. This woman was rocking back and forth, mumbling to herself. Her hair looked unbrushed, only making her seem crazier. Layla embraced the depression, the low feelings of the woman. Working with emotions was like spinning a web. You took a strand and worked with it, pulling it together and forming a pattern. Different patterns caused different things. "Look at her, Layla," Kyle said, knowing his girl was zoning to focus.

The crazed woman was standing now, Despair noticed. She was sobbing, something Layla had created for her. By now, visions of pain from her past would flash forward and seem real. If there were none, there was pain and anger the black angel could use. "A-are you here to take me home?" the woman asked, tears flowing from her eyes. Layla smiled a sweet smile at the pain. "No," she answered. This didn't go over well for the woman. She jumped at Layla. "Let me out of here!" she screamed. Layla closed the door quickly, closing herself in with the woman. She jumped out of the way quickly. "Poor thing. Sad isn't it? Having to live here all your life. You have been here so long," Layla began thoughtfully.

The woman backed away to the wall again, pressing against it and staring at Despair who only stared back with cold, cruel eyes. "Wouldn't you rather be dead?" Layla asked, pulling on the threads of emotion that was being thrown out to her. It was easier to mess with these people, easier to pull on those threads. The woman nodded, obviously wanting to be dead rather than being here. Layla neared her, watching her jump a bit, ready to attack. Despair had her weak and bothered now. "Give it to her," Kyle said. Layla handed the woman the knife, smiling carefully. "Vanish, love," she said. The woman put the knife to her throat, pulling it across. Layla watched the skin part and the blood spill. The threads vanished as the womans light went out. Kyle laughed, loving the smell and sight of the blood before him.

The body had fallen to the floor, lifeless and growing cold. Layla dipped a finger in the blood, bringing it to her lips and tasting it. There was such a strange taste here, but she didn't mind. It must have been something the nurses were giving the patients. "Let me see her," Kyle demanded. Layla sat the bunny down by the wall facing the dead body. Despair pulled off the womans clothes and ran a finger down the stomach. She then took the knife and carefully parted the skin from the bottom of the ribs to the waist, pulling the skin apart to reveal the insides of the human. Kyle was muttering excitedly now as Layla burried her hands in the warm insides and began pulling out intestines and such. She heard a noise, though, and looked up towards the door. "Someone coming?"

[Deleted]

What a desolate, unhappy, God-forsaken place.

Which was, of course, exactly the reason Malachi Eleison Logos found himself in it. The white angel was drawn to places of desolation and unhappiness, if only from an inescapable desire to heal them of such maladies. This asylum was probably not something he could tackle on his own, but perhaps there was some good he could do here. It was, of course, always worth his time to better the human condition.

And so, the hulk of an angel strode into the house of the mad, dressed down for once in a comfortable but still stylish pair of jeans, well-fitted brown sweater and a black leather jacket, still damp from the rain outside. He left his umbrella by the door, and wiped his favorite possession-- his black leather Armani shoes, with a tissue out of a box at the front desk. No matter how casual he seemed, Chi was always clean cut and put-together in a way that gave him a formality even in his ease. That, and the unearthly beauty that lit him up from the inside out, causing some to do a double-take.

And, for those who saw them, the absolutely gigantic white wings that adorned his back, visible only to non-humans. They were at longer than he was tall, and he was every inch of 6`3``. The feathers, too, were damp, and he flapped them out in the empty lobby once or twice, trying to shake off some of the water. The displaced air sent a few papers on the desk floating away, and Chi chewed his lip. What a mess, he thought to himself. Droplets of rainwater had fallen everywhere-- at least he hadn't lost any feathers this particular time. There were tons of them, naturally, the smaller ones flawlessly white but the lower, larger pinions all had some slight, burnished discolorations, as though the white had worn off a bit to reveal some bronzey shade below.

At the whoosh of papers that resulted in his flapping wings, the lobby attendant could be heard from a small back room nearby, where the wafting scent of coffee let the angel know she was busy making herself a cuppa to comfort her in this odd, almost malignant place. "That storm is really something, huh! I'll be right there to check you out in two seconds, darlin', don't want to spill this on myself..." She blathered from the little room, not much more than a closet with a coffeemaker.

But by the time the woman had returned to her desk, the angel had gone, and she chuckled to herself good-naturedly. "Must be hearin' things...no wonder, in a place like this." Malachi, for his part, had skipped off down the hallway, wanting to avoid questioning by the attendants. He didn't know any names of people here, he just wanted to see what he could do to help. He was having an angelic sort of day; the man and the angel were almost two separate entities at this point, Malachi's human personality switching on and off with his angelic one as either was needed. And so, in his current state, the angel's eyes were much lighter than usual, almost emitting a golden glow. His face was hard-set and stern, but not unkind. He wasn't sure if it was the rain or the setting that had put him in this mood of holy righteousness, but it was strong in him now.

The corridors were not very well lit, but were at least clean-- too clean, though, smelling of bleach and unnervingly white. He peeked in the occasional window and wandered aimlessly, bowing his head in brief acknowledgment of the nurses he passed. They all seemed a bit...odd to him, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly was so grotesque. Screams and moans and loud curses punctured the silence of the facility every so often, apparently emanating from it's inmates. It would've depressed the angel if he had been feeling more human today, more inclined to that sympathetic, manic emotional state-- but for now he was pure ice, holy and untouchable and on the prowl for information on the state of this foul place.

And then he heard a scream and a crash, and in an instant the angel was running down the hall. A nurse had just opened a patient's door, screamed, dropped the tray she was holding (which shattered) and ran-- Malachi's cue to step in. He arrived at the doorway just as she left it, hands clenching the frame as near-glowing eyes peered in, his face impassive and undeniably angelic.

Chi took in the scene in a single horrifying moment. A black angel, manifested as a young teenage girl, kneeled over the body of a freshly dead human. Her hands were filled with the human's entrails, the linoleum covered in still-crimson blood. Malachi felt a righteous anger gathering within him, his thick brows knitting together as he stared at the black angel. "What are you doing, Fallen?" His deep voice echoed lightly in the little white room, it's tiled walls reflecting sound easily. The question was less of a request and more of a demand, the angel's skin beginning to radiate that 'inner light' that offended the unholy.


((holy bejeezus, how did that get so long? lulz.))

[emiko]

This was all almost overwhelming for the little black angel. The storm outside, the dead body before her, the footsteps coming closer. Such excitement, though a fear crept in her. She was unprotected. She had the knife but she was weak. Too weak. Kyle had told her this truth many times while they had been together. He was the strong one. Unfortunately, he couldn't move on his own. She was his voice, his actions. Only she could hear him or feel him. Sometimes he could work through her, like speaking. He couldn't quite take over her body, but he could speak through her. Despair tried to think of what she would do now, seeing as there was someone coming closer to the door. "Pathetic," Kyle groaned. He really wasn't wanting to be interrupted. Layla continued playing in the intestines, not really caring. Well, she really did.

There was so much fear in her now that tears were forming in her eyes. "I'm worthless," she whined to Kyle. Again, he rolled his eyes. This time to show that he had known this a long time ago. Someone peered through the door and there was a scream. "There's they are," Kyle said, staring at her, though not for long. The nurse dropped her tray and ran screaming from the room. Such a pretty sound, her screaming. It made Despair smile a bit, content now. There was quicker footsteps now coming for her new room. "What now?" Kyle asked, clearly irritated. What walked through the door next was something they had not expected. "Oh hell no," Kyle said, snickering. He wasn't being effected by the 'inner light,' though it was obvious that Layla was becoming uncomfortable by it.

Kyle was laughing at the lovely disturbed look on the white angels face. Layla looked up at him and turned her head to the side curiously. He spoke and she laughed. She had no intention of speaking to him, but Kyle did. "What does it look like?" Kyle said through the black angel. "What is he doing here? White's don't belong here," Kyle said. Layla didn't dare touch her bunny. What kind of situation was she in now? She couldn't pick Kyle up without getting blood on him. 'Damn,' she thought, looking around the room. There were no sinks or toilets in the rooms here it seemed. She didn't feel right without having him tucked safely against her breasts. She stood, wiping her hands against her clothing and leaving blood on them. Her hands were still not clean enough to handle the stuffed rabbit. Layla bent over to pick up the knife the woman had used to end her life.

She stood, determined to protect the possessed rabbit behind her. She stared at the angel before her, wondering if he would attack. If so, she would have to kill him. No one touched her bunny. She wouldn't allow it. All hell broke loose if Kyle was touched. Besides that, the stuffed animal could take the powers of any who touched him and pass them on to his angel. Despair held a defensive stance now, the knife held in front of her. She wasn't going to attack him, but if he came past the dead woman before her, Layla would have to defend Kyle. "Damn this stuffed animal body," Kyle growled. He knew if he had still been alive he could have finished this man with no problem. But the vampire had been killed by hunters. Not that Kyle would be in this situation if he was still alive. "You are weak. He'll kill you. You already feel the effects of him,"

It didn't hurt her to hear those words coming from Kyle. She was standing on the edge now, not sure what to do. Her eyes were sad and there was the same dark aura around her and Kyle. She searched through the white angel to find some trace of sorrow in him. Too bad this angel couldn't hear Kyle speak. To him, the bunny was simply a stuffed animal. Though the button eyes on it were slightly strange. Scary, really. Of course, Despair wasn't phased. She loved the bunny more than anything. Her navy blue wing was still concealed beneath her shirt and she had no intention of allowing him to see. His wings were large and pretty gorgeous she had to admit. Her wings had been a sight to see at one time, too. But things changed and she lost one and the other turned navy blue. She hated it, but that didn't mean she was going to be a white angel again just to have her wings back.

[Deleted]

There could never have been a more forbidding face. Malachi watched as the other angel, a tiny, frail thing, spat out a mocking answer. There was hardly a twitch of response in his entire body. The angel was tense, a coiled spring, waiting to see what strange trick this little punk had up her sleeve; he was sure there was something, and he'd need to see it coming in time to defend himself from whatever made her tick. He knew enough of darkness to know that it was never quite what it seemed, and this little girl-- he knew her to be a fallen angel without question thanks to his racial sense-- was a perfect example. She stood, then, when he did not deem her retort deserving of an answer.

His eyes, now hardly visible for the light that shone through them, studied the black angel in front of him, his face hard and expression aloof. From what he could see she was quite young, a gaggle of skin and bones and youthful muscle, but not physically threatening. Her blue eyes were bright and sad, like they were permanently set with the clarity of color seen after crying. It was unnerving, and besides that she reminded him of one of his own children, an adopted orphan he had taken in so many, many long years ago. Oh, damn it all. If the angel had any one weakness, it was children. Despite the thick blood she was covered in and the innocent disemboweled human at her feet, there was no way he could hurt this little black angel. He knew, rationally, that such a feeling was ridiculous, and that he knew she was as old as he, but in a younger body. Still, as his heart beat in his chest, he knew there was no touching the girl.

That holy light, however, wouldn't quit, and neither would the questions. Sometimes, mercy meant discipline in order to try to keep someone safe. And that, in Chi's mind, was what was going to go down at this particular junction. "Why did you kill this woman?" The angel's voice was no less stern, or his tone less cold. He took a step forward into the room, the door falling automatically shut behind him when there was no longer anything to hold it open. Chi spread his wings behind him, the white of the feathers blending in oddly with the white tile backdrop. They were relaxed, hanging comfortably open, but ready to pull in front of the man to protect him should the child jump at him with the knife she'd just taken from the corpse.

Little did Malachi know that both angels, however different, shared the empathic sense and control; as she searched for sadness within his emotions, so did he rifle through her emotional palette, looking for something he could use. Even a hint of remorse, of repentance, or even of shame...he wanted, despite everything, to fix this situation by fixing the problem of the Fallen angel in the first place. Returning to the fold of holiness was difficult as an angel, but quite possible if truly desired. Perhaps there was something, some way Malachi could sway this obviously twisted black angel. He never really saw the creepy purple bunny in the corner, nor would he have given it any thought if he had.

As to his own emotions...initially, he had only felt shock and anger, which gave way naturally to confusion, conviction and disgust. This fell to pity, though not quite to compassion. He was, of course, upset by the untimely death of any undeserving human, and there was always some sadness that came with seeing a Fallen angel in a state like this one was. To think, she had once been like him, pure and holy, upright and unafraid. The fear that he, too, could walk down that dark path and lose his wings. Wings-- where was hers? It must either be quite small, or pressed very close to her, or both. Was she ashamed by it? Maybe there was her weak point, his shoe-in to see if he could convince her that life as a white angel was better. We can but try-- the motto of the firm.

[emiko]

He wasn't frightening, the way he looked. Only disturbing. Renee wasn't quite used to coming across white angels. After she turned black she hadn't went around them much. Too many of them wanted her to go back to being a "good angel." She didn't want that. She quite enjoyed being a fallen. If she didn't like where she was she would have changed it. But she was so tired of hearing people complain to her about how bad their lives were. Besides, what would happen to Kyle if she turned white again? He would probably be cast into hell. She couldn't let that happen. As bad as Kyle treated her she couldn't help but want to cry at the thought of losing him. He was always there for her, no matter how cruel he was. Sometimes he was even nice. Well, as nice as Kyle could get. Sure, he wouldn't hesitate to rape and kill children when he was alive, but now he couldn't. So he sat back and watched Layla work.

True, she was small and slender, hardly seeming like a challenge. She was more of a child, really. She looked to be about fifteen, at the most. Her hair was up on the top of her head in two pony tails as usual. She rarely made it any differently than that. She was wearing a tight fitting shirt that showed a little cleavage and some pants that had holes randomly placed on them. She carried only one knife in her hand, though there was a gun on her body somewhere. She was hoping she wouldn't have to use it and by the looks of it, she wouldn't. Kyle was very fond of weapons, so there was really no telling what kind of weapon little Despair could have on her at the time. At this point in time it was just a small handgun, though it would still protect her if she needed it. Her shoulders sagged and tears filled her eyes. Sadness was one thing she knew, one thing she had a control of. It was the one thing she searched for on him now.

His question made her shake her head, nearly sobbing now. Her eyes stared fully at Malachi, a habit she had around other beings. She stared and sometimes it was quite intimidating. the only power Layla really had was her acid. It was in her blood, in her veins. Acid moved through her body and was free for her to use at her will. It came from her tears, her skin, her saliva. She controlled this, though, so the tears she cried at the moment were harmless. She obviously wasn't going to answer her question. Obviously, she did it because she felt like it. But a better answer would be because Kyle told her to. The man stepped further into the room and she twitched, seeming to be a bit skittish. The door closed behind him and she glanced at it, but his wings moved out from behind him, large and beautiful. Her eyes narrowed into a glare as she stared at him. She didn't want him any closer.

No matter how much this man searched through her he wouldn't be able to break her. Perhaps cause her pain and sadness, but not break her. She wasn't able to be broken. He, on the other hand, could. She was finding these threads of emotions and beginning to spin the web, though she wasn't sure how much good it would do on a white angel. She had never tried before. They were so pure, it seemed. She didn't understand how they lived that way. She wondered why he didn't speak much. Perhaps he wasn't a talker, kinda like her. "Why is he just standing there?" Kyle asked. Despair shrugged. She was holding the knife in her right hand and wiping her left off as much as she could. She lifted it to her mouth and licked at the already drying crimson liquid. "You have to get out of here. Or perhaps kill him. It's only the two of you," Kyle said thoughtfully. Oh how he would enjoy that. To see a white angel laying dead before him.

The silence was accepted by the black angel. It was easier for her to concentrate that way. Kyle, though, had other things on his mind. Such as the way he wanted to create some sort of concoction that she had no idea about. Something about injecting it into people so that they stayed alive while she dissected them. They would be able to feel the pain and watch as their insides were removed from their bodies. Even their hearts could be taken out and eaten while the creature still lived. Not even the pain would be enough to knock them out. Of course, hearing such things from Kyle didn't bother Lyla in the slightest. If he was smart enough to come up with such a thing she would willingly steal a human and test it out. If it pulled screams from them like he said it would, then it was a success. Layla didn't care if it worked or not. She held no compassion for creatures anymore. They took everything for granted too often.

[Deleted]

Well, what the hell was he going to do? Malachi was not a temperamental man, but he was frustrated. He wanted to understand this horror, and to fix the angel, but she wouldn't speak to him. He wasn't the type to intimidate, and even brandishing a sword at a child would make him feel shameful. The woman on the floor caught his attention again, her blood still spreading on the linoleum. He grimaced, his attention falling away from the bizarre, aggravating black angel and to the poor innocent thing that had just passed away. He wondered who she was, what had been wrong with her. What her life had been outside of this miserable place...her face at least was quite serene, and he looked back at the girl after noticing the red line at her neck. Somehow he knew the damned thing wouldn't answer him, but he'd speak to her anyway. "Did she kill herself?"

Eyes traveled back to the knife in her hand. He wasn't the brightest angel around, but he had the benefit of experience to rely on. "You gave her the knife." It was like watching the wheels in the white angel's head turn. He shuddered, a movement which traveled to his wings, the feathers shaking for a brief moment like aspen leaves in a light breeze. He took another step toward her, careful feet avoiding the moat of blood that surrounded her. Malachi didn't like blood. He usually wasn't around it for long, with his advanced healing ability and blind eye to those who needed it. When he was around blood, though, it meant something had happened that he couldn't fix. Or that he himself had been badly hurt. He healed, of course; immortality was nice like that. Chi had never lived in fear for his own life, since really, it lasted as long as God wanted it to. Wounds wouldn't slow him except that he was very much stuck to his mortal body, and damn, was pain ever unpleasant...he wondered what weapons the black angel was hiding.

He could feel her sadness-- no, her despair like a low mist settling over the room. She was crying at this point; damn near sobbing, and it hurt his merciful heart to see it. And so, he'd do what he could to repress her depression with his empathic power. He wanted to be able to talk with this creature, to reason with her, to change her if he could. The crying needed to stop, of that he was sure. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you. You know that." Couldn't she-- and all the other black angels-- see that he knew what was best for them? They did, too, somewhere within them. Surely, they remembered that pristine, incredible feeling of holiness. Didn't they want to return? He didn't know why the girl had committed this act of violence, and it didn't seem like she would tell him. It was unfortunate, but perhaps he could get that out of her later.

Chi felt like he had to be very, very careful here. The sort of deranged person who would convince someone to kill herself, and then slice her open to play in her intestines...she was an apple who'd fallen very, very far from the tree. And then to cry in one moment, and glare at him the next? Magnificently unstable. Wariness poured from him, his stance lowering so that he was in more of a ready-to-spring stance than before. What to do, what to do? He wished he wasn't so new in this town, that he had a partner to back him up here. Imagine that, finding a basket case in a madhouse. Nice, Chi. Nice.

He had many questions-- who was she? Why did she do this? What was she afraid of? Why was she here? But a barrage of words would just fly by her. She didn't seem to want to have anything to do with him. Another nurse was nearing the door outside; he felt her emotions and filled them with something to distract her and send her away for the time being. Malachi needed to get the fallen angel away and deal with the poor woman on the ground before any other humans could see the scene. "Did you talk her into killing herself, Fallen?" Perhaps she felt the need to inflict her sadness on others? This black angel's motives still escaped the worldly angel in the worst way, despite his ability to see straight into her emotional state.

[emiko]

Did she kill herself? Yes. Kinda. Well, Layla hadn't killed her. But she hadn't really killed herself either. Layla had not told her to do so. She just made her feel like doing it. Then handed her the weapon to do it with. Then made a suggestion. Suicide was easy to create here, it would seem. Kyle loved it. She wouldn't doubt that he would have her coming here often to do such things. That is, if she wasn't kept away by this damn angel. Who did he think he was, interrupting her like this? She noticed him looking down at the dead body at her feet. She smiled a bit as she stared down at the woman. Who cared what her life had been like? She was obviously a woman that needed help. She was obviously a very, very confused woman. Why else would she be here? Because she was useless to society. There was no other reason for her to live. Why would someone want to live this way?

Yes, she gave her the knife. Why not? The woman wanted to die. Why shouldn't Layla help her along? These silly nurses. Weren't you supposed to give these people what they want? That's how Despair saw it. If Despair wanted to be dead, she would want someone to provide with a way to do so. Well, she kinda was dead. Kinda. Point was, she would have wanted someone to come help her end her pointless life. Though depressed and every so often suicidal, Layla really never felt the need or want to actually pull a knife and kill herself. Well, she wanted to be dead, wanted to kill herself, but she didn't want to try. She couldn't do that to Kyle. What would happen if she died? Layla watched this man step closer and she jumped forward, lashing out with the knife. She tried to hit him quickly and she jumped back before he could touch her.

Kyle laughed at her, muttering to himself before speaking. "Idiot," he said, laughing at her still. Her cheeks grew red and she looked a bit hurt. That mean bunny. He was always so cruel. She didn't mind, though. She jumped back, grabbing him from his place on the floor and hugging him to her chesr, rubbing her cheek against his ear. "Stay back," she hissed, letting her bunny talk through her. Her blue eyes didn't move from this angel before her. She didn't want him near her and the closer he came the more likely she was to jump at him again. Kyle was glaring now. It was strange how she could see his emotions. It was like he had a little grip on her mind. He could send emotions and facial expressions for her to see. But the little purple bunny didn't show these emotions. He was a stuffed animal, after all.

"I don't want your help," she said, malice in her voice. "Tell him to leave or die," Kyle murmured. She repeated this to the angel. Kyle watched, wondering what his next move would be. "He probably won't stop, Layla," he said, his dark button eyes staring just as darkly as the girl holding him. Her eyes were a deep blue, easy to get lost in. That sadness was obvious to those peering in. It was almost overwhelming. She couldn't stand to be near this angel though. She was backing up now, against the wall. Kyle was irritated for having to leave his prey laying on the floor. Oh how he missed tasting that lovely insides of humans. So warm and smooth. He longed to pull out the heart and take a bit, to just taste that one more time. "Fuck being dead," he said angrily. He should have been more careful so he could be enjoying this body with his Layla.

Little Despair wasn't sure what to do now. She was slowly tugging on his threads of emotion, spinning her web like a spider waiting to catch her prey. She wanted him to feel horrible. She felt trapped, cornered. She felt like she was the prey now. She didn't want that to happen and neither did Kyle. "Push him back towards the door," Kyle said, explaining what he wanted his angel to do. She looked around the room, finding a bed to her right. Watching Malachi, she moved towards it. She stood with it to her back and put her little bunny on the bed. She then pulled herself up with her hands and sat down on the mattress. She grabbed her bunny and stood, making herself taller than the white angel before her. She felt bigger this way and more of a threat. A lot of animals made themselves look bigger to keep predators from trying to attack. This was what she was doing.

She heard someone coming towards the door and panic filled her. It vanished quickly though when they didn't come through the door. This angel had asked her a question and she figured she should answer. She shook her head a bit. "Nope," she said, her voice slightly like a childs but holding a bit of maturity. She moved her lips closer to the stuffed animals ear and whispered into it. The angel wouldn't have heard what she was saying, but the bunny did. He didn't want her to pull the gun out just yet. Malachi didn't know about the other weapon yet and Kyle didn't feel they needed to let him know they had it yet. He wanted to see what this angel wanted to do first. "Ask him what he wants," Kyle demanded. Layla let out a small breath and realized she would have much rather just left. But Kyle didn't want to leave his prize. "Why are you here?" she questioned softly.

[Deleted]

A flash of steel glittered in the fluorescent light overhead as the girl lunged forward to strike him. He hadn't seen it coming, as tense as he was, and she was as quick as a snake. The dagger bit into his skin, a hot flash of pain in his abdomen. Thankfully, the bloody knife wasn't horribly sharp and there wasn't too much power in the frightened lunging of a 15-year-old, but Malachi still felt the deep burn of a very painful stomach wound. He pressed a hand to the bleeding immediately, obeying the knee-jerk reaction to use his powers of healing on such a flesh wound. It would take several minutes to completely heal, as his healing skills were his specialty, but even before it was totally better, Chi was appreciative of the waning pain. He sometimes thought to himself that being immortal just meant one had to continue to endure pain over and over instead of ever just succumbing to death. The healing power was nice, but he still hurt just as bad as anyone.

After the intial shock of his injury wore off, Malachi stared up at his assailant, his gaze fierce and cold. He was beginning to be aggravated, as he always was, by the stubbornness of her condition as a black angel. The girl jumped backwards and picked up a stuffed rabbit, which she clutched frantically, protectively to her chest. When she hissed at him to stay back, the snake-like vibe he'd gotten from her intensified. She didn't want his help? Leave or die? Chi had never feared what was only a temporary death, and he wasn't going to start now. But it would've been hard to fear the wrath of a scared girl with a bunny plush even if he was the type to be fearful. Her demands of him were ridiculous. "Even if you refuse my help, little Nahash, you know I cannot leave here to let you further desecrate this woman."

Chi had called the black angel נחש, a snake, in his favorite of the languages he knew, Hebrew. He didn't use the tongue often, but he was fond of the sounds of the language and used it when he could...or in name-calling, as he was doing at present. Whether she would understand the reference was not something he cared about, though he thought it likely if she had been on earth for a very long time. He wondered then how long she had been Fallen, and then marveled for a moment at how blinding sin must be, that this girl had no desire to get her wings back! Malachi wondered, and for a moment was innocently curious. If only he could know, but for a moment, how that felt, perhaps he would be better at saving his fallen brethren.

The feeling passed quickly, though, but left in it's wake a feeling of unease and perhaps uncertainty in his aims. The holy light emanating from him did not lessen, though, and stayed as steady as the polestar. How had this girl managed to be so influential? His eyes flickered towards the woman on the floor. He hadn't been the only one who felt manipulated. The angel's attention returned to the one-winged one, sensing her feeling of entrapment. That never boded well for him; Chi knew that the most dangerous animal was one whom you'd interrupted in a meal and backed against a wall. And here, he felt like he was on an angelic sort of Discovery Channel documentary.

As the girl rose to stand on the mattress, which he could feel feeding her confidence, he stepped to the side, remembering her embargo on his moving forward. All the same, he sure as hell wasn't going backward. He watched with an expressionless face and eyes that followed her every movement like a lion watches a hyena. She was muttering something to the stuffed animal-- was everyone in this place a loony? He felt as though he must be going crazy, too, with all this madness around. Maybe he really was.

And then came a soft question, more childlike than anything else the black angel had said. Why had he come here? "I had a bad feeling about this place and wanted to investigate." He paused for a moment, drinking in the sound of the raging storm outside, the patter of rainwater on the roof, the howl of an angry wind. "My hunches aren't usually so...accurate as they were today." Suddenly, a sense of urgency hit the angel, a feeling like he should stop dithering with an unstable and unyielding angel and get on to cleaning up the woman. This Fallen was a battle he'd have to fight some other time, when she was less tense toward him. At this point, she seemed needlessly violent and unreasonable to him...traits of a sociopath. How the hell did an angel become a sociopath? "Please get out of the asylum, Fallen. I will let you pass unharmed, for the time being, if you leave now."

[emiko]

Her attack had made contact, just as she had hoped. Of course, she hadn't put much force behind it. She wasn't very strong anyway. She was just happy she had made contact. She was hoping he would have left after seeing she wasn't going to refrain from attacking him if she felt the need to. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be his plan. She could smell his blood in the room now and watched him put his hand over the cut. "He's healing himself," Kyle said in dismay. Layla sighed. She pouted a bit, wanting to try again. How many wounds could he heal at once? Also, when did his healing stop working? Did it have to be deeper? She could stab him next time if that would make it harder for him to fix it. There was slight urge to get away but there was another one just as strong. The urge to get away from him. She couldn't stand being so close to him. She was uncomfortable and that was mostly the reason she was so on edge. The feeling would stop if he was dead, surely.

She didn't like the way he was looking at her and by now she seemed to be a bit panicked. Of course she couldn't have had a person come in that actually enjoyed the sight of a dead body. Had he ever actually killed anyone? There was a slight high she got from doing such things. Of course, this hadn't been of her doing. Kyle could feel it all through her and that's why she did it. She had to please him. She had to make him happy. Layla feared vampires, which was what Kyle was when he was alive. She wasn't afraid of him now, though, because he was a stuffed animal. He was less threatening. There was a small satisfaction in keeping a vampire alive. She could have his spirit sent to hell if she wanted to. She just didn't have a reason to for the time being. He was hers. He was in her bunny. The little stuffed animal had once been so cute and sweet looking. Children loved to hold it and cuddle with it. Now it was covered in an onyx aura. It had taken on a different look, one that struck fear in children. The little kids hated that bunny now.

It was obvious that he wasn't going to leave her alone here. He didn't want her to play with the human anymore. Too bad. If he wouldn't leave, she would have to. Kyle knew when to back down. His angel couldn't win. Malachi called her a name and she rolled her eyes. She didn't mind being called names. It didn't bother her. Besides, little Despair didn't even know what he called her. Kyle did, though, and he was quite amused by it. Kyle had been living a long time, perhaps longer than the angel. "Snake," he laughed. It was almost fitting. He could already feel acid moving toward her pores. If the angel touched her he would be burned. It was her own little defense mechanism it seemed. Kyle wasn't bothered by it, the powers and abilities of others had no effect on him. His spirit blocked off anything that could be used against him.

Layla wasn't really influencial. It was more than people were controlled by their emotions and Layla could almost control those. The threads from the woman on the floor had vanished, the web broken into tiny pieces and fed to the wind. Whether she went to heaven or hell, Layla didn't know. She didn't really care. The spirit of these beings wasn't something she concerned herself with. She saw him looking at the body again and a curious look lit up her face. "Isn't it strange how pretty she is like that? Almost calm... If we cleaned up the mess we would have a nice, nearly flawless body," she said thoughtfully. Despite the slender red line on the throat and the large cut in the stomach, the woman was pretty flawless. Despair could put the insides back into the woman almost perfectly. Almost right back in the places they belonged. Kyle had seen enough human insides to memorize where all the things went.

Her eyes stayed on him as he moved to the side. Perhaps he was getting the point now. It was like two predators looking at their prey. Both wanted to come out on top. One of them would have to leave and it seemed apparent who it would have to be. The white angel wasn't going to leave here and Layla didn't want to be around him. She also didn't really want to fight him. She knew she couldn't win in a fight against him. If she had his healing ability she might last a little longer. But that would mean him touching Kyle and she didn't want that. "She's going to be cold and stiff if we keep standing around. You should feel it while it's warm," she said, this time letting Kyle talk through her. He knew more about it than she did anyway. Layla shrugged her shoulders and stared at the woman now. She had a somewhat sympathetic look on her face as if she was sad to have already lost her fun.

She turned her head to the side to listen to the storm. "Kinda loud out there, yea?" she said, talking more than she had before. She ignored his reason for being here. Strange that he should be right this time. It wasn't her fault, though. She wasn't making people think there was something wrong here. Besides, this place was full of crazy people. Anything could happen. Even the nurses seemed a little off. The black angel wasn't really crazy, more like...obedient. She did what she was told, whether by Daimon or Kyle. She was more likely to listen to Kyle, when it came to things like this, but she wouldn't do something Kyle wanted her to do when Daimon said otherwise. Kyle hated the black angel. He couldn't stand him. He didn't like that his little angel had gotten wrapped up with that man. But she knew it was what was best for her. They were protection.

[Deleted]

"Isn't it strange how pretty she is like that? Almost calm... If we cleaned up the mess we would have a nice, nearly flawless body,"

It was a grotesque statement, but he was almost in agreement. There was a beauty in death that he envied. Malachi was admittedly and unhappily jealous of humans, of mortals. Their lives were beautiful and passionate and fleeting; they didn't take time for granted, like he did. They lived according to their own decisions and experiences, under to guiding light of what they were taught and what they believed. It was free will that made them so incredible; the freedom to be whomever they decided, to test the waters of every experience they happened upon and still fly back to heaven. His eyes moved to the woman, some pain in his eyes as he studied her wounds, both the fatal and the post-mortem. He would have to heal them, once the black angel was gone. It would be difficult, but he would only need to heal them superficially; she no longer needed a body in perfect working condition.

As to the black angel, he was somewhat nervous about what her next move would be. They were almost circling each other, eyes bright, tense. He didn't have any weapons on him, so his only defense for the moment was the hope that if it came to that, he could wrestle the knife away from the girl. If she had a gun on her-- and he had no idea whether she did or not-- he'd be in some trouble. It might kill him; by which, of course, he meant only stop him temporarily. Still, it would be awkward. He really despised waking up a day or two later in a morgue.

"She's going to be cold and stiff if we keep standing around. You should feel it while it's warm."

Malachi wanted to be sick. He felt the room spin for a moment after that comment and the following sad little look from the black angel. He had to close his eyes, rubbing them with his hands for a moment before they ran through his hair. The shining eyes re-opened after that brief moment of infirmity, and resumed a piercing stare in Layla's direction, full of disgust and anger. He had seen worse in a few thousand years of wandering the earth, but it never failed to turn his stomach.

She made some comment about the storm raging outside, which he ignored. She thought he was going to make small talk with her over a mutilated body? Like hell he was. The winged one took another few steps to the side, until only his wing was blocking the door, and then pulled it back into his body. "Get out."

[emiko]

She was so interested in things like the dead body before her. She wondered if he was like that too. She wanted to know if he enjoyed seeing such sights. As an angel, you saw a lot of things. Not all of them good, either. Layla had seen and heard plenty of things as an angel. She tried to help people when she was a white angel. She talked to those who were depressed, trying to show them that life wasn't all that bad. Sad children could play with her bunny and "baby sit" it sometimes. There were so many hurting people out there and eventually it got to the angel. "How sad. Seems like we are going to have to leave our fun," Kyle murmured. He wasn't afraid to back down if he had to. He wouldn't have his angel fight a battle she couldn't win. When on her own, she was useless. She wasn't letting up on spinning the threads into the web, though. Not yet anyway.

If she could get rid of him for a bit she wouldn't have to worry about it. It seemed that wasn't going to be happening. He had moved to the gun she kept in her clothes at her waist. Her finger moved over it and Kyle looked at her. "I know what you are thinking," Kyle laughed. He liked the idea but he wasn't sure if the other angel would fall for it. Layla moved her wing against her clothes, trying to find a more comfortable place for it. It was so hard to keep it against her all the time. She wanted to stretch it out but she couldnt' stand the sight of it. She used to have such pretty wings. But now look at her. It wasn't enough to make her want to change back, but it did upset her a bit. Such a pretty little girl with a nasty wing. Though, she did have to admit she liked the color a bit. Navy blue fit her, really. She looked down at her purple bunny, tightening her hold on him as her mind worked to decide what her next move would be.

"Despair, you are making him sick," Kyle said, fake sadness in his voice. "Poor angel," he added as Layla sat down on the bed. She watched Malachi rub his eyes, her own eyes holding a bit of curiousity. "My name's Layla. This is Kyle," she said, pointing to the bunny. "What's your name?" she asked. Malachi didn't seem very happy with her. She was beginning to feel bad. Why was he so mad? Her own little depression started to move through her. She didn't like for people to be angry with her. She was ashamed of what she did, really. She was feeling a bit self-conscious now and didn't want him to look at her. "Stop that," Kyle hissed, feeling her emotions. He didn't want her to start feeling bad about everything now. She liked to hurt people, she liked to kill. She didn't like it as much as Kyle, but she did enjoy it. She just usually felt ashamed of it later.

Her eyes were on him as he moved and she looked cute sitting there. Almost like you could go hug her and love on her. Like a child. His wing moved back from the door and she raised an eyebrow. He was demanding that she leave, very cruelly she might add. Or that's how she saw it. She stood from the bed and moved toward the door, opening it and staring at Malachi. "Fine," she muttered. She slipped out, letting the door shut behind her. She leaned against the wall and stared down at the floor at the tray that had been dropped by the nurse. She must have been startled. Kyle was quiet as Layla thought. She released the web of threads, letting them untangle. After a few minutes she opened the door again, this time holding the gun in her hand. She was silently looking in, hoping he hadn't heard the door. Even if he did, it wouldn't stop her. She aimed and fired. She didn't care if this killed him for a bit or not. She wanted to make him feel pain.

[Deleted]

It seemed odd, to suddenly know this dark angel's name...Layla. It reminded him of an Eric Clapton song; Malachi was old as dirt, but he kept up with culture when he could. And she'd introduced her stuffed animal as well, the creepy little thing she clutched to herself like her life depended on it. Wasn't she really, really old for stuffed animals? And, it seemed to him, Kyle was something of a weird name for a bunny. In response to her abrupt switch to sitting on the mattress, calmly telling him her name, Malachi paused for a moment, staring at the dark angel. He was mildly flabbergasted and slightly unsure of where she was going with this. His bright, holy light faded after a moment of thought, however, as he seemed to acknowledge a very brief truce. "My name is Malachi Eleison Logos." The angel was still reserved and somewhat disdainful, but at least not hostile.

His dark eyes never left the girl seated on the bed, his heart twisting around the conundrum of a once-holy angel, surely ancient but appearing to be an innocent child, clutching her stuffed animal...and yet, to be so horribly consumed with an evil like that which gloried and revelled in the maiming of innocents. The recognition that she was starting to feel a twinge of shame and embarrassment made him perversely glad. If there was some shame left in her heart for acting as she had, she wasn't completely lost. Not, at least, in Malachi's eyes. He toyed with that emotion, using his divinely given powers to manipulate Layla's feelings, to amplify her guilt. For years, Catholics had been using guilt to try to keep people in line. Mostly, Chi thought it was a silly tactic, and rather backwards, but useful in just the right circumstance. This, he thought, might very well be one of those times. Maybe, if she felt bad enough about having done all of this, she wouldn't do it again.

Or maybe she would do it less. That, at least, would be a start. He wondered for a moment at how magnificent she must've been as a white angel; perhaps they had even met, and just didn't remember each other. After all, Malachi knew a lot of angels, not to mention the ones he was actively in charge of. Well, when he was in heaven, anyway. To most earth-bound angels, heaven was home-- to Malachi, the opposite was true. He had grown to love humankind and the world they inhabited with such fervor that he hadn't left it to return to his paradisal home in...centuries, he thought. Yes, it had been some time.

But still, to return to the present, the girl had to go. He still needed to clean up after her mess, and keeping up this tense, angelic 'cold war' between them was taxing and unpleasant. He kept his word to her, though, even if she was and oathbreaker and didn't necessarily deserve it, and let her pass by him and out of the room unscathed. Chi watched her go, watched the door open and then swing closed behind her, felt rather than heard the door click softly but securely closed, and then exhaled. Time to get to work.

He closed the distance between himself and the body in a few quick, tense strides, his face closed off, distant, careful. Chi only took the briefest moment to place her innards back into her stomach and pull the skin back over it; his hands moved with a surgical precision and brevity that suggested that he'd once been a wartime doctor or something of the like.
He was knelt over the body now, working to heal the skin of her torso back into something that wouldn't perplex the nurses. He was muttering something fervently under his breath; his eyes were closed lightly in concentration, and his hands looked rather incandescent.

The words flowing from his mouth easily and quickly, but with appropriate feeling, were once again in a foreign language. It was Hebrew again, the El Male' Rachamim prayer.

"God full of mercy who dwells on high, grant perfect rest on the wings of your divine presence, in the lofty heights of the holy and pure, who shine as the brightness of the heavens, to this soul, who has gone to her eternal rest, as, without making a formal vow, I pledge to give charity in memory of her soul. Her resting place shall be in the Garden of Eden. Therefore, the Master of mercy will care for her under the protection of His wings for all time and bind her soul in the bond of everlasting life. God is her inheritance and she will rest in peace, and let us say Amen."

He hadn't known the poor thing's name, and had to skip it. Chi hadn't known her religion either, which was a shame. He knew the main prayers of each major religion, and preferred to say the one that was closest to the person if he knew...since he didn't know anything about her, Malachi had said his favorite. Her stomach was healed, and he had just lain his hands on her neck wound, a deeper cut, and started a new prayer when the door creaked open. He didn't turn- he was absorbed in his work and the ruba'i he'd just begun to recite in the original Persian.

"So when that Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him
In this clay carcase crippled to abide?"

He paused between stanzas, suddenly realizing who had entered the room behind him. His work was done, though, and the woman was healed. He continued to speak, leaning back on his heels, wondering what it was Layla had returned to do or say.

"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line--"

The angel's voice stopped abruptly as he felt something hot and awful explode into the base of his head, right in the space between the skull and the top vertebra of his spine. Pain rushed through him for a few brief moments before his consciousness and his life went into a fatal tailspin. Chi could almost see himself collapsing, crumpling to the ground in a room spattered now with not only the dead woman's blood, but his as well. Only a choking gurgle of pain escaped the angel before he was gone-- gone, but not out. The body was out of commission, that much went unsaid, but the angel's immortal soul stayed patiently in it's little earthen home, waiting until it had slowly collected itself back to working order.

He knew better than to trust black winged little girls. What a chump.

[emiko]

Malachi. A simple name, easy to remember. She wasn't sure she had ever met him and Kyle was sure he had never met him either. He didn't mess around much with angels. It just wasn't something he was interested in. Though female angels had a tendency to be overly beautiful. He had raped a few. Their beauty was beyond words. He was more fond of children, though. Yes, he raped children. A vampire that had to have been 30 as a human though so many years more as a vampire had a strong taste for sex with little girls. Layla, on the other hand, couldn't bring herself to sleep with children. Even in this fifteen year old body she couldn't bring herself to have sex with boys around that age. Not that Despair wanted sex much anyway. She didn't see the big deal. Sure, she loved the feeling. But she wasn't into all that. She would have her fun with men very rarely. It drove Kyle insane.

Layla had heard the angel muttering through the door and knew what he was saying. The body he was healing was useless to her now. The angel himself was dead for the time being. He would be back in a few days, though. Angels were immortal. She had felt a bit of excitement at having killed an angel. Kyle was thrilled. "Beautiful Layla, gorgeous angel. Look what you did," he said, laughing in an almost crazy manner. He thought she was so weak but she had shot this angel. He knew it was a good idea to keep weapons on his angel. Kyle loved weapons so he made sure she had plenty at home. He wouldn't let her leave home without at least one weapon. There was no telling what kind of weapons she had in her home. You could find tons of them, though, in places you would never imagine finding a weapon. Half of them were just for show but that dind't mean they couldn't be used.

Kyle was so excited about the new death. He didn't want her touching the body of the woman, though the angel he had to see. That noise that had come from the angel before he had gone...it sent more chills up the spines of the duo. "Stupid Malachi. He should have been more careful," Kyle muttered. She would have thought that a white angel would pay a bit more attention to what a black angel was doing. But perhaps he hadn't quite expected this from the little girl. She knew he wouldn't have been stupid. He was old, after all. Most angels had been living for a very long time. Layla had, really, though probably not as long as the Malachi fellow. Layla had led a pretty good life as a white angel. She loved being on earth and protecting the humans she found there. She loved to help them. She just grew tired of it all. She had been a black angel for a while as well and she found this life a lot better than before. Even with her depression.

Now there were two dead bodies in the room, it seemed. Layla didn't want to touch the human anymore, not after Malachi had started healing her. Her eyes looked down on his body as well. Stupid angel. She felt she was done here. She sighed softly as she stared down at his body. She was feeling a little bad for doing it but she knew he would be back. She didn't really want to leave the angel here. It seemed wrong. "Shall we take the body?" she asked of her bunny, wondering how she would manage to get the large man out. She was too weak to take him home herself. "Sounds like a good idea, but how are you going to get him out of here?" Kyle responded, his mind already coming up with a plan. There were beds here that could be lowered to the ground to put people on and then rolled away. If she could get him on one of the beds, she could roll him home.

So Layla left for a moment to get one of the rolling cots. She came back, having a bit of trouble getting it through the door but otherwise having no problems. She lowered it down next to the angel, then stood to look at him. She sat Kyle down on the bed and put her hands on her hips. She leaned down, running her fingers through the pretty wings of the white angel. She frowned with jealousy. So, her work began. It took her several minutes to get the body on the cot. She pushed, pulled, kicked. Kyle laughed at her, yelling at her for being weak but was otherwise useless. He was being a little less cruel since his angel had killed Malachi. He was quite proud. He couldn't wait to get the body home. Layla eventually did get the body on the cot and got Kyle before pushing it through the door. She had a few problems here but once she was out everything went a bit better. The nurses didn't even really mess with her. So, she took the dead angel to her home.