Blurryface ➻ Joshler

: 11. Nicolas :

Tyler dunked his spoon into his bowl, hesitating as he'd rather be speaking than stuffing his face with Louisiana gumbo, despite how good it may be.
"So how did you..?" He trailed off, eyes scanning over his body. It was times like this he wished Tom was here to read his mind harmlessly.

"Well, long story short I used my abilities to create a carbon copy of myself," Patrick said as Tyler hummed at the taste of the gumbo.

"Explains why I couldn't sense your soul." Tyler's brows raised considerably.

The ginger nodded. "If I stayed out of DEMA's eyes long enough I figured they'd stop searching eventually."

"Yeah and how long were you planning?" Tyler looked around the cabin. It's aged well since he'd last been there, the strong oak smell ever so prominent and dust clung to the ceiling. A photograph of Tyler and Clancy hung on the mantle just above the fireplace. It was the only picture dusted and cleaned, the only picture worth looking at.

"As long as I needed." Patrick glanced over to the kitchen where Clancy could be heard swearing at his burnt finger. "All thanks to your pops in there, he's truly a legend."

Pops. Tyler almost hated the smile that graced his lips. But in many ways, he was his father. He'll always be important to Tyler. After all, he was one of the few humans who cared about him enough to help him in need. Naturally, Tyler was eternally grateful.

Loud chaotic barking was what interrupted their discussion. It was nothing short of a battle cry Tyler was trained about in Heil. He stood up cautiously, glancing back to notice both Patrick and now Clancy's alertness to the situation brewing outside. Tyler barged through the back door.

He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.

Asmodeus.

He noticed his presence first by the knot forming deep within himself, and the straining flutter of his wings eager to be set free beneath his skin.

The trees divided, bending nearly snapping under the strained effort. The bush of leaves brushing wildly against the ground, sifting up a cloud of dirt.

Patrick used his arm to shield his eyes, looking out to the oncoming opponent. Tyler stretched out his arm to the left preventing Clancy from following him. "No." Tyler declared firmly. "You won't win that fight."
Tyler applied enough pressure to force Clancy to step a few paces back. The ground beneath him began to rumble and Tyler nodded his head back "Go."

Tyler clenched his fists, eyes narrowed at the demonic being. He always wore white, Tyler's least favorite color.

"I knew I'd find you crawling back here." The wrinkles around his abyss-like black eyes aged his mortal body greatly. He didn't so much as save a glance at Patrick despite his obvious snarl. Tyler nodded him back too, Patrick hesitated.

"I have no quarrels with you." His fists are tight at his side, heart heavy. Jaw set and eyes scanning over the proclaimed Tyrant. He had a legion behind him, with beings tall and linky and black like the night sky. Their yellow eyes are measuring Tyler, estimating his capabilities. They're just as demoralizing as Asmodeus' tone of voice.

It was the faulty uncertainty that briefly flashed in the white-suited man's eyes that gave Tyler a booster shot of confidence.

"I don't have times for your games."

"Neither do I." Tyler's eyes narrowed, red flames engulfing his hands. "I suggest you leave. You're not welcome here."

Asmodeus chuckles. "That's so much as the truth." He tilts his head. "However, I'm not here for a good fight."