((Sorry for the delay, i had a lot of trouble with this chapter and i'm not really sure why... anyhow here it is, sorry it's not the greatest... :) ))
~~~~~~~~~~Anti's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hello Nate."
He stands in the open doorway, hardly taken aback at the use of his name. He leans against the frame of the large entrance, though there is nothing relaxed about his energy. At his sides his hands both clench into white-knuckled fists, one holding a silver blade. The metal, upon closer inspection, is inscribed with a multitude of symbols some I find my mind warning against. Regardless I offer up a smile, I don't doubt it comes off as anything but kind.
He steps into the room, and the wood door clicks shut behind him, the soft noise loud against the ever-present silence. Boot-clad feet move quickly, circling around the shined, oak tables in the center of the large room. I follow the motion with a matched amount of dignity, until we slowly circle, a predator and prey, lets find out which he is.
Any previous thoughts, any previous crazed jumbles of uncertainty fade to a cold apathy. I find myself smiling at the being, getting a read from his movements, his expressions, the glint in his eyes. He's a warrior... He certainly has such a spirit, such a skill, but he's lacking.
Obedience, self-control, respect. He has none of it, but there is passion. He appears enraged, and the fact he's alone....
Trouble in paradise?
"It's very rude to barge in without a hello, Nathan."
A snarl is my only response for a time, but within a moment his face falls to cold indifference. He really should work on his poker-face, every stiff movement, every twitch of the shiv in his hand gives him away.
His pale face creases as his eyes narrow, dark pools of almost-black staring back with a blood-lust I wouldn't expect from a being such as him. I find myself intrigued with the man, so much anger, so much pain, and he doesn't know what to do with it. I have no doubts he's following orders being down in hell at all, but... Given the last interaction, it doesn't seem they were trying to kill me, not at first anyhow. Even the female angel had aimed for the stomach, not the chest or head where it'd have a chance, but this dark angel here, I can't see him with the ability for mercy, he's dead-set on my death.
Interesting, could it be he's fallen out of line?
My grin grows malicious, the burn of my irises no doubt poses as a threat, his quicker movements make it plainly evident.
Moving my gaze away from his face I allow my eyes to travel behind him. From each of his tense shoulder blades stretches a magnificent wing, just large enough to brush the ceiling above. Despite his outwardly darker appearance the large feathers gleam a glorious silver, light bouncing off the soft surface with a deep elegance. Upon closer inspection the light feathers are speckled with spots of black, small enough they could just as easily be mistaken for shadows. The edges curl inward and outward in a steady rhythm, I can't tell if the gesture is offensive or defensive, either way I find myself intrigued by the additional limbs. I'd never been able to see the wings before, not with such detail, I find myself wondering about the power bubbling up in my gut, the divine energy just hardly alive.
Regardless of the reasons I'm unable to tear my gaze away until a minute or two had passed.
Angels are such sickeningly beautiful creatures, such disgusting things. A darker part of my mind fantasizes of plucking those feathers out one by one, watching the blood spill from his back as they're cut off, I wonder if they grow back? I want to break him down, destroy the gracefulness he carries, destroy the beauty he holds, I want him broken, I want him suffering.
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