Silent..? Night [Open to everyone]

[Deleted]

Ahhh what a night, the teacher known as Hajime Yuuto waltzed about his classroom cleaning up a little before taking leave. He had finished His grading and lesson plans and decided it was time to break for a while. He was on one of the higher floors of the school but didnt care as he morphed into the form that of a panther and walked out of the school. In fact Yuuto grinned a toothy, wide grin as a cat before walking down the street. People stared, those whom knew Yuuto laughed and walked with the people that surrounded him. Yuuto was a well known man, in the field of education, he knew more about the world than most people and it showed every day when he taught. Now what did this teacher teach? Well he taught Global History. His personal favorite subject, well who wouldn't like talking about the great wars of the roman empire or the pyramids and such. Inwardly the man laughed at his own geekieness. But, for Yuuto Teaching was a passion, and he loved his passion a lot.

Hell, what a dork.

The Panther walked methodically though the streets before coming across his favorite hangout on Friday nights. The local pub, was a place well where hed come across interesting things. One of them would be, the fact that the man had well adopted most of the slaves that he provided a good home to here. Often they were women that needed help. He'd help them and get them on the right track in life and let them start anew when he knew that they were. Yuuto may seem suspicious but really he was an honest man just lending a hand, and he was more than willing to do so. He hated the way the slaves that were auctioned off were treated and if it weren't for the fact he was a one man army he would have killed the stupid people who did that to the locked up slaves. Looking up at his companions he rolled his shoulders and morphed back into a human as he was only a few blocks from the pub itself. The man whom was known as the teacher was a tall man, well over six feet in height. Dark hair was always a messy spiked hairdo that seemed to suit the man despite his formalities.

Yuuto was a rather formal individual, wearing his dress shirt tie and dress pants into the pub. Now most of the bartenders knew who Yuuto was and the fact he'd often stroll in as a panther and then morph back to a human, but the shape shifter decided to keep himself looking human for the most part, but there was always an animalistic grace about him that was something that made the girls in the school oogle about the "hot global teacher". He always rolled his eyes at their comments and ignored them, the silly kids knew nothing of what "love" was and what a real relationship entailed. The man was wearing a personal favorite outfit that night, a white dress shirt and a black dress coat with a yellow tie and black dress pants. He was smiling as he said farewell to his friends and walked into the pub. Smiling he sat down at the bar and immediately began his conversations with the bartenders and they all laughed. Yuuto was known here but never because of his alcohol consumption. In fact, he rarely drank any alcohol, he merely came here for the conversation and gossip.

The Teacher however today ordered a glass of red wine and smiled as it was brought to him. His mind idly wandering to different topics, how were the people at his home doing, what would he be doing after this and if someone maybe familiar came here instead of strangers. The animal like male sat sipping his wine, bright blue eyes shining, they were an arctic blue that could be extremely piercing if you angered the rather impossible to anger man. But most of the time they were giving a warm, inviting, friendly gaze instead of one that was in the least bit threatening. Yuuto sighed looking around, so far there was nobody but the bar tenders here that he remotely recognized, but he heard a song on the radio. It was a song written and sung by an ex convict about his life and how he wished to find his own freedom. The male smiled, the harmonious tones relaxed him. It was from his many years on this earth that he knew that people could change and this Ex convict was a prime example.

So the shape shifter sat, and waited... wondering who would come and visit the pub tonight.

[northie]

As if on cue, the door opened. Silently, inconspicuously, subtly. If not for the sudden chit-chattering from the outside world seeping in through the opened door, no one would have noticed the man who slipped in. Soon the obnoxious noises died as the door slipped back into place, shutting out the outside world. A skinny, frail, unremarkable man in a large black coat that seemed to swallow his thin figure, leaving two long, branch-like legs wrapped in tight black jeans stood in front of the door. Upon a closer look though, one would wonder just how the heck they could have assumed him common and bland. He looked disproportionate, with the fuzzy hood covering the top half of his face. He was unbalanced, awkward, and the only thing that seemed to restrain him from tipping over with all that weight on top was the heavy combat boots he was wearing. He was standing straight, but people think, barely, he’s going to tip any minute now.

Approaching the counter of the bar, the amusingly unassuming man sat down, his thin long legs propped themselves up against the lower bar of the chair. Two arms, wrapped in chunky winter material rested on the top of the counter, and white thin fingers clenched and unclenched each other. He was like a spider, frail and gangly. But spiders were deadly. This man did not seem deadly. Rather, at a second, third glance, he appeared comical and still…awkward. One hand raised and off went the hood, revealing, surprisingly, a head long hair, the color of bright peonies. It seemed synthetic. It seemed real. The man seemed fluid now. Pinning him down seemed near impossible. There are too many maybes and perhaps. One second he seemed like this, the next second he seemed like that.

He no longer looked comical. Rather, he appeared threatening. Out of a pocket came a packet of cigarette. The right eye was gone, replaced with a black eye patch. What was behind it? What was the story behind that eye patch? The other green eye was bloodshot. In fact, a crescent of dark bruising imprinted right under his single eye. No sleep, one would imagine. Crumpled, flat hair, downturned lips…he appeared stoned. He was a druggie, he was a punk, he was a sleaze. He was Niccolo Fortunato., better known as Crovo. Lighting the cigarette, the red haired man chewed on the cigarette, a comatose expression of fatigue lingering on his bird like features as he sighed and slumped against the edge of the counter, practically sprawling all over the vintage wooden top.

“Beer,” Nicco croaked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and flicking it on the ash tray nearby. As if finally noticing the distinguished man sitting to his right, Crovo turned his head completely to get a good look at him since peering out of the corner of his eye would have been highly ineffective in this case. Crovo’s single green eye lingered over the man for several seconds. No smile could be seen, nor a single flicker of acknowledgement. He had just decided to turn and look at the wall, as it would appear. Yet that green eye was peering straight at the well dressed individual.

Turning his head back towards the bar, Crovo reached into the large pockets of his jacket and pulled out a tight fist. He released his fist over the counter, scattering something all over the wood. Seeds. The other hand reached into the opposite pocket and pulled out another fist. This time, a little pink head peeped out from the fist, a single curly feather adorned its head. Gently releasing the animal, a tiny pink puff ball, Crovo propped his head on his raised hand and watched the bird peck at the seeds. Stroking its tiny head, Crovo looked up as the bar tender brought over glass of beer, peering at the strange thing all in the meanwhile. It’s not every day you see a punk carrying around a bird seemingly outfitted for a princess.

“A tray of water too,” Nicco added, poking the pink bird. “for my friend here.” Running a thin finger over the rim of the mug, the single green eye peered at the amber liquid bubbling within. Cherish it, he told himself, it’ll be the last drink you’re gonna get in a long while. Suddenly, he swiveled in his seat again, facing the teacher sitting a few seats to his right.

“Cheers.” And with that, he gulped down the beer.

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[Deleted]

This was a crazy, fucked up, backwards place. The angel knew, after barely a week here, why the hell They'd sent him. Slavery, rampant vampires, crazed, sickeningly sadistic fallen angels...what else would he find here, the harder he looked, the deeper the old man went down the rabbit hole? It was a dark city. And he was an old man-- he mightn't have looked it, of course, appearing to be a very handsome man in his early thirties, but as an archangel he was, well...quite the ancient.

And just now, he was a tired old man. He hadn't really found anywhere to stay in town just yet, and was still carrying his small canvas satchel of belongings around with him. He'd just emerged from a small scuffle with a human thief, one who'd been convinced to repent once he got a glimpse of those wings of Chi's, and was looking uncharacteristically the worse for wear. Malachi's hair was disheveled and the collar of his usually pressed and pristine white button-down was askew. There was a line of blood at his throat, as though a knife blade had just been pressed there. His sleeves were, as usual, rolled up above his elbows, and his black slacks, smudged a bit on his knees with dirt, were as usual paired with an expensive pair of designer leather shoes. They were his most pricey, well-loved and flashy possession, but Malachi was convinced that a good pair of shoes was a man's most important possession.

His shoes were presently taking him down a side street, his blue-gray eyes watching the passing cars and glancing at the signs for the buildings he passed. Somewhat ahead of him, he espied what looked like a pub, and Chi realized suddenly that he was really, really hungry for some deliciously disgustingly unhealthy pub food. Say, a big, juicy hamburger and some greasy fries? Oh hell yes.

And so, the angel wandered happily into the pub, the smell of food making his stomach grumble. He ran a hand through his hair as he glanced at the two other occupants-- a gangly red-haired human with a bird, and a well-kept young shapeshifter. Easy enough company, as far as he could tell. He wandered straight up to the bar, leaning down from his six and something feet of height to rest his elbows on the bar. "Hey...can I get a hamburger, please? And, uhm, a coke, too.

Naturally, the angel didn't drink alcohol-- it wasn't really allowed, and he'd never actually wanted any. Well, maybe he'd thought about it, but-- he liked being in the good graces of heaven more than he wanted to try all the vices. He ran his hand across his throat, thinking for a moment as he felt the blood that still remained of his near-mugging. "Oh, and a small glass of water, too, if you don't mind." Malachi smiled at the bartender as he moved off to go retrieve the angel's food. The patron himself slid into the nearest barstool, happy enough to wait where he was. He glanced around the pub again, then, focusing more on the other men, one with a glass of wine and the other enjoying a beer.

The glass of water was the first thing that the tender brought him; Malachi took a quick moment to dip a napkin in the liquid, daubing his neck with it. The skin below the blood, once revealed, looked as though it was as new and unhurt as a babe's.