Private The Truth of Life Everlasting

Knosis

Knosis

Grumpy Badger
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The country side stinks of cows, horses, farm equipment, and factory smoke. The long road leads to the city of over crowded populations, angry men, and depressed young people not sure where to find their next job. At night, the city lights up with the clubs and night life, as well as the children of the night. People go to there to lose their worry and their money. But for some, time doesn't pass as quickly as it does for others....
 
Bright lights, loud sounds, people laughing and dancing the night away. It was always this way in these parts. The problem is with the night, there are dark allies hidden even further because of those bright lights. And within shadows, dark things hide secrets within.

The man groaned and leaned against the wall, sliding down it slowly as he held his middle. Black liquid oozed between his fingers and he coughed. The other figure in the shadowed alley laid still and would never move again as its head was severed from its body. "From ashes to ashes.." The man grunted. "From dust to dust.. Your sins have.. H-have been paid.." He muttered.

He felt his fangs lower slowly. He needed to feed, he knew that. If he didn't, he'd black out again. Last time that happened.. Well, lets just say an entire church got redecorated red. But he couldn't seem to will himself to move.

He closed his eyes and laid his head against the brick wall.
 
There were too many people here. Not just one too many, but many too many. The crowd made her feel claustrophobic; ironic, since she spent quite a bit of her time inside deep, empty graves, surrounded by walls of packed dirt. At least the dirt she could count on not to jostle her out of the way as she walked past.

Surely there was someplace a little less dense to check her scroll.... A darker part of the town, population: a handful, seemed ideal for this purpose. Azrail paused in front of a darkened building, taking a moment to turn up the light in the lantern hanging on her belt, and unfurled the worn parchment with her current task.

She frowned. This wasn't the same person that had been on there a while ago. Had another Gravedigger gotten to him first? It didn't matter. Azrail's grey eyes brushed over the new information; her new target.
 
The man gritted his teeth and made himself stand again. He'd rest when he was dead. Which apparently, was never. The way he looked, he'd cause a scene out on the streets, so he decided to take the back way out. But first..

He bent down to the body and slowly inscribed marks into the skin that had gone a tad cold to the touch. The marks were of old tongue, almost long forgotten to the men of this world. Only very few knew of it left. And of those few, most were of the same as he. A child of night. A child of sin and death. The man before him had been of such, albeit a younger vampire. Alek's red eyes glowed slightly in the dark as he finished his inscription. Soon after, the body slowly caught fire, blue flames licking the clothes the man had worn.

With his work done, the shadow turned and started through the dark passages through the maze of the city's tall buildings to find a way to sate his hunger.
 
Shiny black ink reflected the orange firelight from her lantern, vibrant despite dim lighting. Azrail read what had been newly inscribed, then tucked the paper back into its place on her belt. She lowered the light of her lantern while she walked.

The night was young; the air, a dreary humid warmth; scarce traces of moonlight cast faint shadows across the area, only barely illuminating the ground in front of her. She savored the somewhat-quiet moments before having to leave them behind, reentering the noisy streets to locate her next task. This one was still in the same city; she only needed to find him.
 
The man reentered the streets too after a bit. No one paid him mind in this crowd, despite the state of his clothes, nor the fact he was pale as death. Everyone had thrown their cares away with the night. Alek couldn't feel the heat of the night, but he could feel the warmth of skin that pressed against his on occasion as he slid past the crowded streets. Each one made it just that much more difficult to slip away from. His fangs were lowered. He felt the familiar gnaw on his throat that told him he needed to feed. It was becoming hard to resist.

His will power finally broke and he grabbed a young woman by her shoulders, leading the confused woman down an ally. There was no sound as he fed. There was no fear in the woman either as she found death's embrace.
 
Identifying one's task was usually a lot harder than watching the person you were looking for drag a bewildered pedestrian into the dark recesses of an alleyway. Then again, sometimes it was that easy. Those were the lucky days.

Lantern forming a dim glow to walk by, the Gravedigger followed the same path as the man she was looking for. She didn't particularly care for saving the woman; Azrail was only set on completing her task. And that task, as of right now, was to find Alek just around the corner.
 
And around the corner he was. The woman laid in his arms, the life slowly draining from her eyes. There was no fear there, only pleasure as the light left them. Alek fed quietly, quickly, with the efficiency that years of experience had afforded him.

However, he sensed more than heard her approach. He spun around, a thin trail of blood trickled down the side of his mouth from where his fangs had retreated. He eyed her quietly. "Are you an innocent soul?" He asked quietly.
 
An innocent soul? Azrail wasn't sure what he meant by that. Though, whatever was meant, she probably wasn't it, by his standards.

Not that she cared all that much. He was just close enough for her to see... his... fatal weaknesses? Was there a mistake? Had she missed something?

Written for things that could kill him... was nothing. This was unheard of, and very perplexing. So perplexing, in fact, that the emotion seeped through to her expression, if only for a moment or two. Azrail examined him one more time, to be certain.
 
The man wiped the trickle of blood off of his mouth on the back of his gloved hand. He had caught on the range of emotion from the girl after his question and took it for his answer. "Very well. If you are not an innocent soul, then I offer you salvation. Come to me freely, child of the night, and I shall help erase your sins. Only then can you be forgiven." He extended a hand out to her.

His other hand had gone to brace behind his back, although he silently slipped a blade from his belt at the same time.
 
"What kind of a crazy cult do you think I'm a part of?" Azrail regained face, reaching to dislodge her shovel from its place across her back. Better it lay in her grasp than to need it and not have it. "I need no redemption. My time has not yet come."

Her grip tightened on the wood handle, knuckles turning white, though she didn't feel the soreness in her fingertips from this action. Unable to die? That was impossible! Unfathomable! How was she to deal with an immortal? It was... ironic, really. Ironic that she was meant to kill the unkillable.

"Why can't you die?"
 
The man narrowed his red hues towards the woman and turned to face her fully, the blade visible in his right hand. "That is an answer only our lord and savior can answer. I do not know. I have sought after death for what feels like forever, and yet I've never been graced with death's sweet kiss. Thus I continue my mission from my lord, although I am forsaken in the shadows like all children of the night. Perhaps this is punishment. Perhaps this is his way to tell me he still needs my services upon this mortal coil. Regardless, I am his to command and if I need be, I shall his angel of death."

He paused only for a moment. "What are you? You cannot be common vermin such as vampires or werewolves. Wraiths are not nearly as pretty. Shapeshifter? Witch?"
 
"A Gravedigger," she replied curtly. "And I'm finding my job especially difficult when the person I was sent to kill can't die." An eyebrow flicked upward for mild emphasis. She noted the knife, loosening her grip on the shovel's handle just enough to restore circulation. "Let me return the question: What are you?"
 
"That is a complicated answer." He said just as curtly. He slowly started moving forward to get closer to the woman, his eyes burning bright red. "A man. A monster. A lost soul. An angel of death. It is a complicated scenario. But I'm not one to question the works and wonders of our lord." Inching forward ever so slowly...
 
"One thing I can tell you are not," she stepped away, as if to leave the wretched soul to his miserable fate, "is an angel of Death. They're much more cleanly than you are."

Azrail was not about to fight someone she couldn't kill. Besides, the first meeting, unless a task could be fulfilled swiftly, was meant only for the discovery of weaknesses. However, since he had no weaknesses to show, she intended to speak with Death on the matter and find a new task for her scroll.

That said, from the way he was creeping, it didn't seem like she would escape without at least a small scuffle. This was why she still clutched her shovel; was keeping an eye on his movements. In case he decided it was time she die.
 
He inched closer ever so slowly. "Perhaps, but you've only just met me. And right after someone's cord had been cut from the world." He gazed down at the remains of the woman. "I'm not a vampire anymore. The lord must have willed it to be so." His ruby eyes flashed in the darkness. "Why else would I be forced to live this eternal tormented life other than to end other creatures who's time has come to meet their maker?"

He tilted his head as he looked up at the Gravedigger. "Perhaps you were sent to your death instead? It could only be a logical conclusion."

And with that the vampire rushed forward, the knife gleaming in the dim light of the night.
 
She? Sent to her death? Azrail was convinced, this man didn't know what he was talking about. An imposter—nay, a confused soul not fit to even be called an imposter. A pharisee set on leading people astray with a twisted teaching he did not understand.

There was faint effort put into moving aside after Alek decided to attack first. Instead, Azrail turned on a heel, not at all surprised by his movements, and readied herself to catch his blade against the wooden handle of her shovel rather than swing back.

Such a pitiable person. For a moment, she actually consented to a bit of intrigue—not a common occurrence, for sure. Perhaps he could be useful, if he were ever convinced to stop trying to kill her. Maybe he wasn't insane, but peering through another looking-glass.

Or he was simply a crazed person who stumbled across a lucky bit of magic. The curiosity was snuffed quicker than it had surfaced, and Azrail turned back to the task at hand: What to do about him.
 
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