C'thelli's Demonic Orphanage (Completed and Editing)

16

C'thelli snuck through the front door and cringed at the squealing hinges as she closed it behind her. Standing on the old porch, she waited for a sound from inside the house with twitching ears. After a moment of nothing but the whistling breeze to give her company, she laxed her tense shoulders with an easy sigh as she sauntered onto the front garden. She was undiscovered.

With a suspicious eye she glanced over the sinister forest at the foot of the hill. The metallic scent of blood was still fresh in her nose, and with it, old memories flared in her mind. They were of the Battle for the Pits, where steel sung and shrieked like an inexperienced choir. As inexperienced as she had been.

But how could she have known the horror's of war without that cursed knowledge? To feel the shockwaves of swords bouncing up her arms and rendering her muscles akin to jelly, or the arrows and rocks whizzing past her head and plucking her comrades from the sky. 

The clarity of being mere inches away from death is easy to lose when presented with the grand spectacle of war. When soldiers clash and beasts tear into each other like it were their last banquet. Demons, humans, devils, angels, fiends, and griffins, none could hope to withstand the greatest horror of all; The insatiable thrill of the kill.

Not even she could withstand it. It was that thought, that fact which frightened her most. This wasn't who she wanted to be. But it was there. It was a part of her. Her fight with the Griffin was proof of that glee that bubbles beneath the surface. With a shake of her head, she returned to her senses with a gasp. 

She hadn't snuck out to ridicule herself. No, she was here on a mission, and she needed to get it done before she was missed. With a focused effort she stepped along the soft carpet of grass and glanced over the township. Lights still flickered in the windows, as if the candles themselves were waving her over. With a pat of her pocket, she was assured by the weight of what resided there, and with it, she found the resolve to spread her wings in readied flight.

But she stopped, the scratching of wood spooked her into a stealthy stillness. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the shutters to Feimo's room standing apart as a figure dressed in vibrant reds and purples clambered out of the darkened room. He hesitated, the small circle beneath the feathery hat rotated in search of something. Assuming they were alone, the interloper began to descend with the grace of a werewolf watered solely on wine and tasked with surgically removing it's dress with it's claws.

In other words, she watched Feimo plant his feet onto the roof of the porch, and merely seconds after his triumphant grin lit up the night, the low whine of creaking wood gave way to a thundering crack that sent the demon tumbling down with a steady stream of curses. Only the impact of the floor connecting with his chin silenced him long enough for the devil to stifle a snicker at the man's bad luck. Idiot.

"He made it look so easy." The demon whispered under his breath.

"Who did?" She asked. Her voice jumped out of her mouth like a canon, scaring both herself and the demon who yelped in surprise.

"C'thelli! What're you doing out here?" Feimo exclaimed a little too loudly for her comfort. With a harsh shush, he murmured, "Oh, sorry, what the heck are you doing here! And why do you like like a ninja?" He demanded in a hushed tone.

For a moment she was puzzled by the question, but then upon a wave of his hand she looked down at her attire. She was wearing a tight fitting tunic and breeches dyed black, along with her sword sheathed at her hip. "Because I am? Now what about you, you look like the king's fool." She said indignantly.

"Fool? I'll have you know the lady at the boutique said this was all the rage in Paris." He muttered as he struck a pose and flaunted his colourful attire.