A new visitor (Malachi)

[Deleted]

The idea of Malachi Logos ever falling prey to the wiles of the fallen angels was a far-fetched one. He had his moments of doubt and curiosity for what a life like that entailed, but they were generally passing. Especially when he encountered someone like Layla. Malachi, for all his worldliness and wisdom, had no idea what draw the life of the black angel held for her. He was not intrigued by the thought of rejoicing in the innards of whomever he encountered. Occasionally, anger rose in his heart, as it did with anyone, but he was quick to master it and repent. And here and now, he would repent for the rage that caused him to injure Layla by healing the same wound.

It was the sort of ridiculous action only a white angel could think to take, to heal his killer of the wound he'd given her. It wasn't quite guilt that drove him to it, either, though perhaps in lingered in the back of his mind. No, it was his overwhelmingly merciful nature, his natural compassion for suffering that made him move toward Layla with kind intentions. Chi was the angel of mercy, yes, and it was his duty to alleviate suffering, but the title was not just an appointment, it was what he was created to do and what his personality craved. He could not stand to be around a soul in pain if he felt there was any way he could help them, whether physically, emotionally or otherwise. Malachi, first and foremost, was a doer of kind things.

As the white-winged angel moved toward the navy-winged angel, he took stock of her emotions again, like a constantly updating radar, and with a start realized she was still feeling bad about something without any help from him. There was guilt in her, and that pleased the righteous man. Guilt was a good sign, a remnant of the purity she'd once had. Once that guilt after doing bad things left, people were almost hopelessly lost to the darkness, but as long as it was there they had a chance. Chi didn't think he ought to push his luck today by trying to push her towards wanting her white wings back, but he thought, if there was time in the future, that it was worth a shot.

Malachi watched as she slid the knife into the room beyond, and slowly pulled her empty hands back up in a show of disarmament. It was enough for the angel for now-- if she moved her hands back to grab the knife again, he'd be quick enough to grab one of her little arms, or at least dodge the blow. Under no circumstances did Malachi want to die by her hand a second time. Once had been more than enough. He would augment her emotions before starting to heal her, attempting to deflate her pain and magnify her guilt, preferring that she was relaxed physically and conflicted morally than jumpy and tense at his touch. It was always easier to heal muscles that weren't being used.

"Try to relax." He had his best, most soothing voice on now, somewhere between a good doctor and a concerned parent. Malachi sank to one knee in front of Layla, his wings spreading out behind him somewhat in a steadying halo of white feathers. Ancient blue-gray eyes studied the wound before him for a moment without touching it, wondering just how deep it went. Well, he would know soon enough. One hand reached out to touch the bloodied mark with a warm pressure, his fingers already glowing with a holy golden light. After a moment, they began to glow even more until his hand, now covering the wound, looked like it was made only of that golden light. The angel's eyes seemed to grow significantly lighter, his concentration focused on pulling Layla's flesh back together so she could live to torture someone another day. Whether he was doing the right or wrong thing by healing her didn't cross his mind, now-- it was the only action he could've taken, anyway, being the man he was. It would take two or three minutes for Malachi to heal the wound fully, and he would be absolutely motionlessly still for all of them unless she provoked him to move. The more he concentrated, the more quickly and thoroughly the job was done.

[emiko]

Despair whined out loud as he came near her, almost as if she didn't want him to come any closer. She knew he was coming to help her, though. She stopped putting out the acid, not wanting to hurt him when he came forward to heal her. She still had a hold on the web she was forming and creating, like a spider she guarded it though she knew he couldn't see it. She was letting it loose, though, so he could calm down as well. She soon let the threads vanish, though she was tense and ready to pull them back together just as quickly as she had released them. "Don't be stupid, Layla," Kyle said. She nodded her head to him. "He is going to help," she said, her vioce shaking in fear. Kyle seemed to size this angel up, those button eyes seeming to peer straight into his soul. It would probably be a creepy feeling to Malachi, but Layla had grown to love those button eyes.

Layla didn't want to be a white angel again. She wanted to be a black angel with her white wings. She wanted to live beside Daimon and the other sins and live forever. She wanted to do as they told her and live with Kyle, never to die or lose her spirit friend. What would happen if she were die like Malachi did? Would Kyle stay in the bunny and wait until Layla returned. "Probably not," Kyle said, boredom still in his voice. He could understand everything this little girl though, no matter how far back those thoughts went. "Let's not die, then. Instead, let's work on the situation presented to us," he added, nodding mentally towards Malachi who seemed to be getting even closer than before. Layla wondered why he would do this for her after what she did to him and it only made her weary of the white angel.

Yes, there was guilt. She did feel guilty for what she did. She would lie about that, though. Perhaps he could feel that and so could Kyle. It was one of the reasons the ex-vampire found her so weak and pathetic. One of the reasons he wanted to be with a better person. But his mind was bonded to hers and no one elses. No one would ever be able to hear him but her. He could speak into that strong mind of hers and even speak through her, but never could he speak into anyone elses mind. Such a shame, too, seeing as she could almost control what he said through her. Not once had he been able to tell Lust to rape Layla. He wanted that so much, though, and had a feeling he wouldn't be able to get it for a while. He wasn't able to do as he pleased. Too bad this bunny body of his couldn't be moved by him. Why was that? He wasn't sure. Would he ever be able to move it?

"Yes, because she can relax after you threw a knife at her," she hissed in a sadistic voice. She felt all the pain going away, though. That guilt was coming forth and she kept herself from crying. "I'm sorry," she whispered softly. She truly meant it whether Malachi believed her or not. For the time being, she felt bad. She felt like saying sorry and appologizing for what she did. "You pathetic girl. He is making you feel this way. Don't be sorry, you loved every minute of it," Kyle growled. The angel knelt down beside her and she looked down on him. Kyle found it quite humerous, though. He was laughing at seeing the man on his knees before the child. His wings, though, Despair couldn't keep her eyes off of. Her hand reached out for a moment, desperate to touch them. She stopped short, though, and let her hand fall beside her.

She seemed calm now, quiet. Her eyes were on his huge wings, curious. Kyle was silent for the moment. His fingers touched her and she jumped lightly, frightened and wondering why he was touching her. She heard Kyle hiss, not wanting the mans fingers on his angel. She saw Malachi's fingers glowing and her head turned to the side a bit. She shifted her weight, her wing still out and arms against the door. Of course, this meant Kyle was hanging from her fingers up by the frame of the door as well. At least she knew Malachi couldn't touch her bunny this way. If he did, she would kill him over and over until she felt better about it. She would torture him in so many ways...she shuddered a bit. His hand was over the wound and it was glowing. She wasn't sure why, but she noticed it was beginning to feel a bit better. She stood there, almost patient as she waited. When a few minutes had past, one of her hands reached out to touch his wing.

[Deleted]

Malachi's gaze fell, for a moment, to Layla's pet stuffed animal. It was a creepy little thing, with a purplish hue and tiny little legs. It's button eyes were the most disturbing feature, always seeming to be looking right at him. Layla reacted to it as though it spoke to her, and often seemed to be speaking to it. It was quite chilling, and sent a shiver up the angel's spine. The thing seemed to stare down at him from where Layla held it at the top of the doorframe, and he found himself wishing she would put it away somewhere. Still, she seemed to go nowhere without it and guarded it above herself. With a small snort of dislike, the angel would return to his healing, his intentions strong enough not to be dismissed by a creepy doll.

She snapped at him again, in that same odd voice. It was like she had a very strange case of DID, dissociative identity disorder. A split-personality that changed at the drop of a hat, which was far too quickly to be the usual disorder. He wondered if it really was that creepy bunny speaking through her. Chi thought about responding to the biting commentary, but resisted, his reserves of quiet holiness not yet tapped. He might've said something along the lines of 'And I'm sorry for that, but I'm healing you now.' But the words died in his mouth as he just went to his work anyway, having found through the years that in life, actions tended to speak louder than words.

When Layla apologized, a small, sad smile rose to Malachi's countenance, his personality suddenly seeming very old and wise, very much the angel spirit instead of the man. His eyes went to meet hers, a cloudy bluish-gray limned with golden light since he was engaged with healing. "I know, little one." And he did; he had felt the shame and guilt in her, and knew she was in earnest. He had a penchant for catching lies in that way. It was not quite accurate, but he could tell when people didn't believe what they said. Layla was sincere, and so he looked back down, feeling the calmest he had since waking up, a deep monk-like calm that he felt when at peace. "I'm glad."

He didn't pay much attention to her reaching out to touch him the first time, the feathered appendages only resettling themselves slightly, as a bird's might, when he realized she'd gotten so close. He was almost done healing the girl when she reached out once more, now making contact with the downy-soft feathers of the wings that were the badge of his holiness. There was no other race who could have wings like these, not quite; they were restricted to those whose purity was of the highest rank. It was also restricted to those whose every action was dictated by that higher power; Malachi pitied those who were enslaved in the town, but it was not far from the truth to claim that he was similarly enslaved. He wore a golden bracer to represent such bondage to god and goodness, though the real bond was deeper within him.

Chi took his hand away from the girl's stomach after another moment, the pain and wound gone, only a bit of blood on her skin remaining. He stayed where he was, however, face turning up to look Layla in the eye. "Layla, you have to let me leave. Otherwise, I will have to force my way out, and I don't want to do that, but I will if I must."

[emiko]

She saw his smile and could feel his emotions. The little girl was an empath and not only could she make people feel emotions, she could feel theirs as well. She knew he was looking at her bunny and she smiled a bit to him. She felt so calm and relaxed, though that feeling of despair was still there. "His name is Kyle," she said gently. She looked away as if that was all that needed to be said about the bunny. If Malachi had questions he could ask Kyle, not her. Really, Kyle was a calm man. He only got crazy when he felt like he needed blood around him. Despair was rarely open enough to get as loud and obnoxious as Kyle. It wasn't really fitting when he spoke through her. She could see him clearly in her mind and still wondered if he would eventually be able to take over. If he could, would he ever let her have her own body back? She was so afraid of losing her body to him but even if she did she would allow it.

She felt Kyle laugh at her thoughts. "I don't want your body for that. You are too weak," he said. Her eyes fell to the ground. She felt bad. It wasn't her fault she was so weak. She wasn't made to be a fighter. That obviously wasn't what she was here for. She didn't need physical strength. She needed mental strength to help her get through to people. Well, when she was a white angel. people should know how hard it is to stay sane among the insane. After all, even Malachi here seemed to be feeling the effects of being around her. Would he ever lust for blood like she did? He was such a big man, surely someone people wouldn't mess with. He would have been a fine addition to the fallen that Layla had power over. Daimon would be so proud of her, wouldn't he? Again, Kyle laughed. He hated that man with a passion.

Her strangely gentle fingers moved over his wings and a curious look came over her. What if she cut them off and put them on her own back? Of course, there would be no way to keep them there. Kyle found this thought of hers amusing as well. "Sew them on?" he asked. He wasn't quite sure how the wings of the angels worked anyway. Layla looked up at him, shaking her head a bit. That wouldn't work. It would have been a good idea if she knew how to get the wings to work on her own back. Of course, Kyle just wanted to take the angels wings anyway, whether his angel could use them or not. Would someone buy angel wings? Or perhaps he could use them for something. Layla tugged gently on one of the feathers but not hard enough to pull it out. Oh how she missed her white wings. How come she couldn't keep her own? Daimon thought she had a beautiful wing. But as she looked upon the blue thing now she felt a wave of hatred for it.

It seemed Malachi was done healing her. His hand moved back and the pain in her stomach was gone. Kyle smiled and nodded his head approvingly. Her fingers moved over the skin that had been open only moments ago. "Thank you," she said softly, that calm feeling crawling away. Her heartbeat was slowing, though. The hand holding Kyle stayed up by the door frame. Malachi was asking to leave again and now that all her pain was gone and she was calm, she felt like she could do this. she shook her head to him, refusing to let him past. He would have to force her aside and that wouldn't keep her from chasing him down and trying to pin him to the couch or something. Kyle watched silently from his spot as she reached back for the knife. "Guess we have to kill him again so we can get him chained to the bed," Kyle sighed, disappointed he wouldn't be able to hear the angel scream yet.

[Deleted]

Kyle-- yes, he thought she'd told the angel the name of her little friend before. In a previous life, as it were. Malachi's gray-blue eyes didn't linger for long on the stuffed rabbit, though, keeping his mind on the task at present. The angel was keeping a close mental eye on Layla's fluctuating emotions, hoping to find something he could exploit to make getting out of this current predicament easier. She seemed to be calm now, though undeniably sad. Chi was starting to think that was her normal state, though, as that same feeling of despair never seemed to completely leave her. He still hadn't really realized he'd been dealing with the infamous Despair of the seven sins, nor had he quite picked up on the fact that they were both empaths.

He sensed her feeling worse suddenly, her eyes falling to the ground, but Malachi couldn't for the life of him identify a source for this sudden self-dissappointment she radiated. It was as though someone had just insulted her, but Chi hadn't spoken. If this Kyle sometimes spoke through her, though, perhaps he could speak to her internally? He thought the idea a bit far-fetched, though, and brushed it off as nonsense. The sturdy man had no idea how close he'd come to the truth of the matter.

Her hand, though, was still on his wing, something which he was okay with for the moment, but that wouldn't last too much longer. It wasn't always safe to let a black angel around a pair of nice white wings for long-- they inevitably got jealous and would tear at them, which was, of course, quite unpleasant. And then, there was that weird, slightly crazy look back on her face. Like she was appraising him, analyzing his body for the most appealing place to thrust a knife as she had before. Malachi made a distasteful face, feeling her nostalgic longing and correctly interpreting it as the black angel missing her white wings. He watched her, calculating the shift of her eyes to her own wing, blue and small, a badge of sin. Once again, Malachi's heart reeled at the decision of he and his brethren to remove the beautiful wings of those among them who sinned. That had been bad enough...leaving them with one sickly scarlet letter of their wrongdoing had been, perhaps, the tipping point. It had been a cruel act, something they'd reasoned to be necessary...one of the things Malachi had argued against in his infinite craving for mercy.

And now, here he was, feeling the punishment for having caved to his siblings' unerring zeal for a harsh punishment for the Fallen. Layla tugged at one of his feathers, and Malachi instinctively drew his wings away, the things fluttering slightly as though they had a mind of their own and resettling in close to the angel's broad bare back. "You're welcome, Layla." He sighed as though morally conflicted. He felt her calmness slip away like a wave that had crashed and was now sinking back into a deep and tumultuous ocean. The angel stayed where he was kneeled before the doorframe for a moment, mind reeling through what he'd do next. He could hurt her badly enough that she couldn't chase him, but naturally the angel wouldn't resort to that as anything but a last option. He thought he could just run for it-- a window or patio door would be ideal, and hopefully there was one close outside the door. Malachi thought he might be able to tie her up or something, but with what? And then, he didn't like the thought of no one coming to find her and the girl staying tied up for days...no, that was too cruel. He just wanted to be out of here.

During these moments of scheming, the angel's eyes watched his little captor like a hawk, and didn't miss her hand sneaking back to grab the knife she'd left in the wall on the other side of the door. Well, the first thing to do would be to disarm her, of course. He didn't want to have to go through this mess again. One large hand shot up, grasping the girl's wrist with a vise-like grip. Malachi used his weight and the muscle of his upper body to force her back into the room beyond as well, trying to get as far from the knife and as close to his escape as possible. "Why do you have to be difficult like this? You can't keep me here, Layla!" Malachi's voice was deep and now forbidding, his final sentence with the ringing tones of a very serious warning. The angel was a gentle man, but he was still twice her size. Remembering how his power of holy light had bothered her in the asylum, the angel began to glow, faintly at first as though his skin just shimmered with a gold sheen. His eyes, too, looked lighter through their stern gaze.

[emiko]

Layla gave a small gasp as he pulled those pretty wings away from her. Again, something she loved was being taken away. How cruel life was. She didn't mind, though. She always felt this way, this sad, depressed feeling. She couldn't get rid of it. She almost didn't want to. She embraced her emotions, not matter how negative. People took life for granted and she was going to show them just how hurt they could feel. Just how much sorrow they could endure. Those silly people came to her when she was a white angel. They complained about their lives. How cruel it was to them. Every day she listened to them whine and cry over stupid things. There was far worse out there, Layla had seen it. She had seen things people would never want to see. The wouldn't be able to handle it. Oh the things an angel saw during their life. But these humans had it good, yet they complained over stupid things. Decisions they could not make, family members lost, the feeling that they were unwanted. Pathetic.

Now, Layla wanted to show people just how bad they could hurt. What would she have to do to show people that she was taking away every bit of fun and enjoyment they had in their life? How many people would she have to kill? How many heads would she have to put on fences outside of homes, watching while a little child came out to see their fathers rotting skull? Eventually, these people would understand that their lives had never been so bad. She would make them realize this no matter what it took. Things could be so much worse and that was what she intended to show them. She didn't mind getting her hands dirty on the way and Kyle was just a helper to her. He had so many ideas, so many cruel things. Yes, Despair was going to show the world how much of a bitch life could really be. She would do this with or without Daimon's help.

Of course, for every human she disemboweled, for every angel she shot she felt bad. Oh how she enjoyed hearing them scream in pain and feel them squirming against her, fighting away her hands and weapons. Yet, at the same time, she felt bad for having to do such things. Why couldn't people just understand that they really didn't have it that bad? Why couldn't they stop complaining about the amazing lives they had? Despair could not answer any of these questions. Kyle was angry that his angel felt bad for killing. He quite enjoyed it and he knew she did as well. What was that lingering emotion that kept her from feeling fully satisfied with her art? He knew she enjoyed the taste of the flesh she pulled from the bodies of the people she slaughtered. He knew she loved the sound of their screams of terror and pain as she slid a knife into their chests. What was holding her back? He knew he had to stop it.

She didn't speak to him then, only looked at him as though she was seeing through him. What was he thinking? Was he trying to find ways to escape her? No, Kyle didn't want her to let him go. Of course, Kyle knew when to back down. He wasn't afraid to run from battles he knew he couldn't win. This was one of them, though this angel was in his home, had been tied to his bed. He couldn't allow Layla to just let the angel walk out the front door and leave. Not after all the excitement he had felt for getting to watch her play with an angel. "It's all your fault," he complained to her. She nodded. She knew it was her fault. Now what was she going to do? She couldn't hold Malachi back. She certainly wasn't strong enough. What was the plan going to be. She could already see that Kyle was thinking over the situation. What on earth would he come up with?

They hadn't lost yet, that much he knew. There had to be some way that Layla could get him back down. This wasn't over yet. Malachi was still in her apartment. His hand grabbed hers as she reached for the knife. She couldn't hit him with the other hand since she was holding Kyle, though. She bit down on the bunnies ear and started hitting at Malachi, but there wasn't a lot of power behind it. He was pushing her back down the hallway. The hand that was being held by him was reaching out to the knife but she was far away from it now. She mumbled something through the stuffed animal in her mouth, something Malachi wouldn't be able to understand. He began to glow again and she squirmed uncomfortable, noticing Kyle roll his eyes. She got an idea, though, letting the chemicals in her body seep out of her wrist and onto Malachi's hand. They were in the living room now and her eyes moved around to find something to use as a weapon. She had temporarily forgotten about the guns she kept in the house.

[Deleted]

Suddenly, after his push out of the doorframe of the bedroom, Malachi found himself in a completely new place. It was an odd feeling, to have seen the bedroom of the place but not the places you had to go through to get to it. The angel didn't look around it at first, though, keeping his attention on the fallen angel at hand. That auric glow of his was getting stronger and brighter by the second, not flicking on like a lightbulb but growing as a spark grows into a large fire. It was a curious power, one that made him feel warm physically but cold emotionally. It made him less Malachi the man and more Zadkiel the angel, who was quite a bit more reserved and forbidding, an unearthly thing that rarely spoke or showed emotion. If he used angelic powers for long enough, he could sometimes start to feel a real separation between his two very different selves; his voice even echoed occasionally, as though two people were speaking the words that came out of his mouth.

He doubted this would be one of those times, but if it came to that, Malachi had few reservations. Sometimes, he took a bit of pleasure in the showy, visual nature of his abilities, but here without an audience or anyone to impress but a fallen angel his powers were used only when necessary. Besides, he didn't take particular enjoyment in making someone squirm if he didn't need to. When Malachi found how easily he had gained the living room, he was starting to think that he should cut the holy light and just walk out the front door. Even if Layla resisted, simply picking her up and moving her was quite easy. The shirtless, glowing angel was just starting to feel comfortable with the forseen outlook of this venture when a searing pain overcame him wherever he had his hands on Layla-- namely, her wrist.

The large hand unclasped from the girl's arm with reflexive alacrity, letting her go and turning his attention completely away from her for a moment as Chi pulled his injured hand in instinctively close to his torso. It felt like he'd grabbed something on fire, the way it ate at his skin like a thing possessed. Gold-rimmed eyes, again filled with pain, looked down to inspect his hand, confused and alarmed. He, of course, set his healing power to fix it immediately as it happened, so the thing was already feeling better, but it still hurt like a bitch. Enough, anyway, that he wouldn't be able to use that hand for a few minutes. "Agh! What did you do?" His attention flew back up to her, anger flaring in his pain. It was a bad habit of his, to get angry when he was hurt. Still, he'd gotten good at controlling that emotion, and in a few heavy breaths he'd reroute that passion to a frantic search for an escape.

Malachi's heart beat a quick tattoo in his breast as his eyes flew around the room. It was simple and tidy, with a tv, coffee table and couch before the two. To his right, the sliding glass door that he immediately identified as his escape route. To his left, a kitchen and probably the front door. The angel took no more time to think about this whole mess of escaping. With his injured hand pulled protectively into his side, Malachi feinted to the right, moving as quickly as he could towards the glass door. His wings were pulled in close to him as he went, making him a bit faster, but Malachi was a large man and not especially quick. Still, he went as fast as he could for the door, expecting at any moment to be tackled or grabbed or have something thrown at him to bar his escape. He'd had to maneuver around the couch, which had slowed him, but oh! how close he was to fresh sky!

[emiko]

She obviously didn't like his little holy light. she was turning her face away, though her left eye was still on him, glaring yet sad. Kyle was unaffected, as usual. He felt bad that she had to be so uncomfortable. She wasn't in pain she just didn't like being around that holy light he emitted. She wouldn't tell him to stop, though. Instead, she endured it. Whether that was because she didn't feel like talking to the man or because she wanted to prove to Kyle she wasn't weak there was no telling. "I know it's making you uncomfortable Layla. Knock him out or something," Kyle said, getting rather bored of this. He was ready for something interesting to happen. He seemed rather lazy at the moment, his eyes moving over the big man before him. There was still a bit of jealous and anger there at having Malachi touching his angel but he didn't say a word about it.

She smiled as Malachi released her. Yes, her ability usually came in handy for situations such as this. She never had to worry about being raped or harmed by the hands of others. People would think twice about touching her again after feeling such a pain. She had figured he would heal it and she took this time to slowly start moving away from him, pulling Kyle from her mouth in her right hand and moving towards the knife. She didn't think he would let her over there, though. She moved slowly, her wing pressed back up against her back now. He questioned her and his eyes were on her once more, freezing her in her tracks. She didn't move now, only looked up at him with almost frightened eyes. "I think you made him mad," Kyle laughed a bit in amusement, though still obviously bored. His angel had to do something quick her Malachi would get away.

She watched him look around, knowing he was looking for an escape. "What do I do, Kyle," she asked him. He only shrugged for the moment, though she could see a thought coming in his mind. Layla couldn't understand why Kyle wasn't thinking faster. Malachi wouldn't wait around all day for her to catch him. In fact, she wasn't sure that he wouldn't knock her down or hurt her in some way just to get out of her home. It wasn't like she hadn't been hospitable. She had offered him water and if he had wanted something to eat she could have provided him with that as well. "I don't think that's what he wanted, Despair," he snickered. He found it quite entertaining that she was willing to give him food and drink before she cut him open and ended his life once more. What was the point? "The nice thing to do," she answered him, causing him to roll his eyes.

After a moment, Malachi bolted. Layla jumped chasing after him. "Layla, what are we doing?" Kyle groaned. Oh had he made a mistake. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Despair had plenty of weapons in her home. In fact, there was a few in the cushions of her couch. They were in the walls, behind the tv, taped under the table. There was no telling where you would find a weapon in her home. There was even a gun disguised as a cell phone in a drawer next to her bed. Kyle made sure his angel was loaded with guns and such. "What?" Layla asked quickly. "Gun" he answered just as fast. They came upon the couch and Layla reached in between the cushions to pull out a handgun she had hidden there. She jumped up towards Malachi, intending to jump onto his back and put the gun up against his head. She would do anything to keep him from leaving.

[Deleted]

Malachi listened as she queried her stuffed rabbit for advice. It was so bizarre, her relationship with the little thing. Her protection of the thing never wavered, nor did the amount of care and attention she gave it. He wondered if it did talk back, or perhaps whether it was just her talking to herself. There were such numerous possibilities in this world, Chi could believe either. He had roamed the world for 3500 years, and had guarded it from heaven in times before that. There was little left in the grand scheme that he'd not seen, though life's little complexities continued to fascinate him. He had a childlike, neverending wonder of creation at the heart of him, part of the reason for his merciful nature. And yet here was the merciful creature, stuck in the cage of Layla's apartment, stuck between feeling sorry for what he was doing to the girl and wanting to do whatever it took to get out of this place. He only half listened as she nonchalantly muttered something about the nice thing to do.

It seemed that no matter what he did, Malachi would be feeling guilty for this later. Not that it wasn't a common emotion for the white angel. He was a conflicted man, despite the purity he emanated. It was one thing to be holy in heaven, and another to remain just as holy on earth. On top of that, the line between being a white angel and one of the Fallen was someitmes hard to draw, the two extremes more full of shades of gray that one would initially realize. His temper had flared more than once in his meeting with Layla, and her kindness had showed itself a few times since he'd known her. They were, neither of them, completely perfect.

But then the chase was on, Chi bolting for the door like a clumsy lion, and Layla hot on his trail. She questioned him with a 'what?' as he ran, or so he thought, but didn't take the time to respond, instead getting hung up with operating the glass door. Sliding doors were always such difficult things, and Chi was fumbling with the latch when Layla flew to pounce onto his back. "Aaaghhh!" He roared with the unexpected pain of her acidic hands and arms on his bare skin, the chemical she oozed burning into him on contact like a hot poker. In hopping onto his back, though, she had hopped onto his wings as well, and as soon as they felt her weight on them and his panic from the pain, the appendages flapped madly. They were strong, able to lift a man of Malachi's size and heft, easily the strongest muscles on his body. Such movements might not have thrown her off, but would surely dislodge her or keep her from pointing the gun exactly where she meant to.

As soon as Malachi realized the cool metal bouncing against his skull was a gun, however, his panic would double, hands moving to try and tug the thing away from her as quickly as possible. His torso thrashed, as well, blindly trying to loosen the poison arms of the sin of Despair from his bare unblemished skin. "Get...off!"

[emiko]

Layla would at least have a reason to continue living if Malachi got away from her. Of course, she didn't see this since she never really saw the bright side of things, though she tried to force those thoughts into her head every so often. Kyle could see how well these things could turn out. If it was fallen angels that Daimon wanted, Layla could provide. Despair could bring angels down to their knees. Layla would rather have a bit of fun with angels instead, though. Kyle knew that if they kept coming upon this Malachi angel they could probably eventually cause him to fall. After all, Kyle had been one of the reasons Layla became a fallen. He knew he could do it again if he tried, but why would he want to help Daimon? He had stopped Layla from killing Krystin. She was one of them, an angel. Perhaps not a fallen, but a sister to Layla. The young girl had not thought Krystin belonged there, she wanted to get rid of her. Even now she wanted to get rid of the girl. Daimon probably wouldn't want Layla killing Malachi either. Too late, though.

Now, with Layla jumping on Malachi's back it would take both hands to hold her on. Therefore, she could not have Kyle with her. The chances of him being touched was too high. Besides, she had to use one hand to hold the gun. So, she left the little bunny sitting on the couch, the small stuffed animal laying off to it's side a bit, no longer supported by Layla. Also, it seemed he was unprotected as well. Don't be fooled, though, the little angel could get to her bunny quickly if she had to. She wasn't going to allow anything to happen to Kyle. Of course, the possessed rabbit was watching them with one eye, the other one covered by a large ear. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his young angel jumping on the back of the older one. She was so small compared to Malachi. One hand was on his shoulder, the other pressing a gun up against him. Her knees were up at her chest and she was trying hard to hold on.

Malachi's yell made her flinch a bit and she stopped releasing the acid in her body, though the gun wasn't put away. She hadn't really thought of those pretty wings when she pounced on him. Now, though, they were becoming a nuisance. The movement of his wings under her caused her to fall back and she grabbed one of them to hold herself up to him, the weapon no longer where she had wanted it to be. She felt him trying to take her weapon and she growled, low and threatening. Something an angel shouldn't have been able to pull off. "You're mine," she growled, that demonic voice back. Her eyes widened as she was thrown off of his back, her feet touching the ground lightly and her eyes sad. "Please don't leave me," she breathed like a sad lover who was about to lose the person she loved more than anything in the world. She saw Kyle's eyebrow raise as she did this. What was his little angel thinking? If she couldn't take him by force then she would have to do it the only way she could. She had let his emotions free in the turmoil, but now she lazily picked them back up and slowly began spinning the web. Malachi could leave now, she was still and quiet. But if he did, she would hunt him down.