Late Angel

Kain wasn't sure how long he'd been in Hell, if he was to be entirely honest.

Time blended together; he'd tried to count the hours but it was no use. He'd tried cutting a notch in his foot whenever he felt like a day had passed, but that idea was thrown down the drain when a. he didn't have any cutting tools and b. he didn't wanna bleed any more than he already had.

However long it had been- hours, days, weeks, months, maybe even years -Kain was starting to feel his health deteriorate.

He wasn't even sure food existed in this place. He'd found himself tripping over the dry bodies of emaciated demons more times than he liked to admit. The other folk he did see looked all skin and bones, and he felt like he was the same.

He didn't want to look, though. Whatever he would see, he felt he wouldn't like it.

He'd forced himself to throw up and eat that at one point, but that was pointless. Nothing came up but air, spit, and a tooth.

He'd been sucking on gravel from the ground (Artemis had once told him it would sate hunger) until the top of his mouth was raw and gross like some rotten candy and tasted of blood. But it didn't help his hunger one bit.

His hunger was insidious, seeping into his brain and changing his way of thinking. It made his teeth and nails itch and his jaw restless. His throat ached for the need to eat something, ANYTHING. Kain could die of famine down here. And he didn't want to do that.

He hadn't found his friends yet, but he wasn't about to give up. Johnathan and Lorelei, even Lucifer and Joshua, they were people he didn't want to live without.

He'd been wandering around like always when he came across what looked like a camp. Seemed some people made themselves at home. Kain took a few quick glances around to see if the camp's owner was anywhere to be seen, then approached closer when he saw nobody.

The center of the area was a fire, clothes set out around it like mats. It was mainly robes not unlike the ones the angels wore, all tattered and with dark stains Kain didn't have to look twice to know what were.

There was a big tent set up, or at least something that Kain thought was to resemble a tent. It was held together with what looked like mud, a couple thin blankets across the top. He carefully approached it, opening the flap and looking inside.

He was surprised to see how well kept it was. There were even two sleeping bags! (Made out of skin, but still!) There was a small boulder on the right side of the tent with an incredibly worn dark green bag propped up against it. He rummaged through it, sadly finding nothing that could be food. He did find a makeshift dagger though, made with intricately carved bone and a rock handle. He smiled a bit, tucking it away in his robe. It would be useful later. Some people in Hell had learned to live large, apparently.

Kain hummed a bit to himself, studying the bag's contents. Oddly enough, it was mainly rocks. Rocks with nice designs or colors or odd shapes or otherwise exotic looks, but rocks nonetheless. They all had what Kain assumed was the name of the owner carved into them- Tatrasiel.

Tatrasiel seemed like they'd been in Hell either their entire life or five minutes, by their belongings. So resigned to their fate they started collecting rocks, or they were just so new and spoiled they weren't aware of their danger. At least that's what Kain figured. He didn't know this person's life.

There was no food around. Maybe that's what they were away for? They could be getting food, and maybe they'd see Kain there and let him join them. That'd be nice.

He knew it was just hopeful thinking, though.

His stomach loudly protested with a growl as he went through the rest of Tatrasiel's belongings. Nothing of real value, but he did find a crumpled up picture deep in the bag. Kain carefully uncrumpled it, turning it over in his hands.