The Six

The Reaper

Ahhh...I'm in Heaven. Castien thought as he walked, with some difficulty, across the gravel path, his sleevless and scarred arms resting lazily on the back of his dark, ginger head. He chuckled loudly, half because of his drunken state, and half because of the sheer irony of his thought.

He wasn't literally in Heaven, in fact, if he had to choose whether to be in Kishon's dungeon bing tortured or in Heaven, he would choose the dungeon without a secound thought.

Why? Because it's where they live. Castien scowled as images of the blond-haired, blue-eyed Angels hijaked his thoughts. Even though he was noticably drunk, not even the strongest alchoholic beverage could make him forget for a second how much he hated those stupid Harks. His large leather wings twitched and his taloned fingers clenched in anticipation for when he would finally be able to enter the war himself. Which would be much sooner than he anticipated.

 

As if his prayers had been answered  a dark, shadowy figure landed just feet infront of him. Unfazed by its appearance because of his liquor-controlled thoughts, Castien tried to walk past it, only to have the figure move and block his path. Wh-What the? He thought, as he tried to maneuver around the figure, only to be blocked once again. Then, the figure stepped forward, revealing the old, scarred, and incredibly terrifying face of his leader.

 

But of course, Castien did something stupid.

Thinking he was some kind of hallucination from his overdose of alchohol, Castien poked Damian on the tip of his nose.

Then in the arm.

Then the other arm.

Repeatedly.

Castien giggled childishly slurred drunkenly, "Whoa, dude! T-This is so trippy! Hah, it looks JUST like Damian!" 

Damian slammed a large hand to his forehead and narrowed his eyes at the red-headed idiot of a Demon that he was going to ask to save the world. He closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation, silently pleading that Castien could do something intelligent for once, and that choosing him wouldn't doom all of Valdren.

Maybe I should give the boy more credit, Damian thought, eyes still closed tightly. He's not as unreliable as the others, and he's not a COMPLETE idiot. He just needs a chance to-

"Yoohoo! Damian! You there?! What's up, man?!"  Castien asked giddily, poking Damian's nose again.

"STOP IT YOU IMBECILE!" Damian yelled angrily, bringing Castien back into a sober reality. He yelped in surprise and fall to the hard ground. He quickly kneeled in front of Damian and bowed his head, respectfully. "I'm  sorry M-master!" Castien squeaked, voice full of fear as Damian glared down at him.

"Get up, and speak properly boy!" Castien quickly got up and stood up straight. That's better, Damian thought. "Now listen carefully. I want you at my castle in no less than 5 minutes." To add to the seriousness of his words, Damian lowered his voice to a whisper. "Or I'll saw your wings off with a rusted knife, and make you watch as the Hellhounds devour them whole." Castien shuddered. He knew Damian wasn't bluffing, the exact same thing had happened last week when one of the Demons failed to complete Damian's orders.

Poor Rick. Castien thought as he watched Damian's massive wing unfurl and he took off with so much force that Castien was forced to the ground again.

"5 minutes boy!" Damian yelled over over his shoulder, his black eyes glowing with the light of thousands of souls.

Castien gulped and stood up shakily, watching the dissappearing figure of the cruel, heartless, sadistic Demon that had known his entire life. And he still terrified him.

Scratch that...Poor ME.