Nocturnal Demon

Case 1: The Aftermath.

"Dammit..." Blood drips again as Raziel scratches too hard on the skin of his hand, still trying to get the cold blood off his hands. The water from the nearby tap flows through his fingers, changing from clear to red right before it touches the floor. Some stains still remain.

He underestimated his strength as he scratched too hard, still waiting for the adrenaline of prior events too wear off. Now new streaks of red appear because of his recklessness. I need to be more careful.

He looks up to the barely reflective window. It's not the clearest mirror, but it doesn't matter. He can still see the devil staring back.

Shit... How far did I...

He sees himself. The monster. The devil with the mouth dripping with blood. The sides of his cheeks are like open wounds, revealing deadly teeth, particularly the canines. They are perhaps sharper then they should be.

This is the aftermath of when he bit into the shifter. Raziel had opened his mouth so wide that the flesh of his cheeks had ripped open. Instinctively, he wanted to cause as much damage as possible... And wanted to receive as much gain from it too...

The boost in power. Raziel's eyes widen as he realizes the reason for the sudden strength and vigor. An effect he's still suffering from now.

Raziel steps closer to see the reflection.

His pupils are dilated. The Viper slits have grown wider in expression, reducing the distance between the black void of colour and the sharp yellow of his irises. Maybe he could have passed better as a human if it weren't for them. That's what the glasses are used for, at least they help Raziel stay incognito.

He catches the glance of his mouth again, the picture of his wounds healing with unnatural speed, closing themselves without the need for medicines or healers.

He can still taste the blood. Raziel stops his tongue as it instinctively searches for more of the red in his mouth. The feeling of it is nourishing. Inviting. Vigorous.

But it also feels...

Wrong.

He douses his face with the streaming water, wanting every section of splattered red on his to face to disappear, to be removed from the whites of his teeth and the pink of his tongue. He knows his face will heal, that his body will too. He won't suffer from the infection or disease that might have come from all of this. He knows he can't; he just wants it off.

The blood must come off. Now.

...

"You okay?" Raziel knew who it was even before his voice perked up. Maybe it was his scent in the air or the lightness of his footsteps, either way, it was clear that his hunter companion didn't forget about him.

"I'm fine." He responds hoarsely. Even when not looking at him, it's obvious that Alexander shows worry for Raziel. Though the reason as to why isn't without base.

Raziel sits slumped on the street bench with a head laid back to watch the sky, looking like a man who has been through hell and back. His eyes hadn't focused on anything in particular. But what was there to focus on anyway? There are no stars in the night above.

"You haven't put them back on yet." Alexander points to the cracked glasses lying carelessly on Raziel's hand. "Are they broken?"

"No. Just haven't thought about putting them back on yet."

He doesn't ask before doing so, Alexander takes the open spot of the wide seat, placing himself right next to the sky-gazing demon.

"How are they? Those two?" Raziel asks, still watching the sky.