Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Writing Exercise - Even Angels Will Fall, Pt. 2

[Emofest over. End emofest. Fin les emofest.]

"Lilith?"

The sound in her ears was cloudy, like it was from a distance, or her ears were full of soapy water.


"Lilith, are you okay?"


All of a sudden she was back, in her shoes. She slowly stared at Sam. "...hm?"


"I asked if you were okay, ma'am."


"Yes. Yes, I'm quite alright. Quite...quite fine. Comb your hair, it's finally starting to get dark."


Obeying, he ran a comb half-heartedly through his honey-coloured hair, chewing his lip. Her bedroom was dark, and it unnerved him. Bedrooms, in his opinion, should never be dark or dusty. They shouldn't have dried roses and covered windows. And they shouldn't have cats that stare so intently at him.


"Where did you say we were heading?"


Lilith slipped her bonnet over her dark hair and pulled on her red cloak. It unnerved Sam, her childlike face and dress.


"Out into the forest." She said. "No humans that way. Come, Doctor." She picked up her basket and set it on the bed, opening one side of it. The cat got in, purring loudly.

The sun set outside. It was time to leave.




Just to be thorough, another bullet was fired directly to the back of his skull. Rai put the gun back in its holster under his trenchcoat. "Poor bastard." He muttered, his shaggy, platinum-blonde hair catching the moonlight overhead. It was a rather cliche moment - the antihero illuminated by the moon, representing some sort of dark and beautiful soul, or whatever they told film students to cause such a stint of terrible books and movies who shan't be named. Cliche or not, it happened, and he dealt with it as it came.

Rai was a tall and slimly-built young man, in his mid-twenties. He was dressed in black, a trencoat and heavy, sensible black boots. He wore a white shirt under his black coat, with a black tie. What such a well-dressed man was doing shooting someone in the Los Angeles city dump was a mystery.

"Loki?" He called out. "Did you get the other bloke?"


Loki came into view, his dark and lank hair clinging to his face. He simply nodded, shrugging his shoulders like he always did. His red eyes peered out at him and he clicked his lip ring on his fangs.


Rai thought Loki was a little bit odd. Naturally dark-haired, and liking piercings, he was often mistaken for some kind of goth kid. Loki wasn't really a goth kid. He was too angry to be goth, too heavy and pale, unless your example was the kids from South Park. Not that Rai watched TV. English men didn't watch American TV. He slumped quite a bit, Rai had noticed. He would have called Loki a friend, if anyone could call Loki a friend.

Loki seemed...odd. Shaken up. Rai lit his cigarette. "Come on, mate. Let's just go back to the bar."


It was quite the trek to the bar, but once there, things were far more relaxed. Loki calmed down with six vodkas in him, and while he was preoccupied staring off into space, Rai slipped into the back room to see The Graverobber. 

 The angel was sitting in his chair, his legs over the armrest, a crystal ball in his spiderlike, spindly hands. [AUTHOR'S NOTE: At this point, I feel stupid having three blonde characters in the one story. They were all made independantly, I swear.] An attractive-in-a-stripper-way girl was plaiting his long hair.


"Hello, Rai." He said dryly. "What brings you here?"


"Loki's on another bender. I thought it best to leave him to the barmaid."


"A wise choice. Did you kill those two pesky little demons?"


"As best we could. Murdered their bodies." He sat down on the other side of the table. "The demons themselves escaped, but they won't be able to re-root for a while. Something on your mind?"


Setting the ball down on its stand, he sighed and shooed the girl away. "It's Lilith again. She's up to something, and I don't know what."


"Lilith? She's no trouble, you know that." Rai stiffened slightly.


When Lilith's parents died, she had been adopted by a very prominent vampire family, whom she had grown up with. Rai had watched her grow from a tiny, ill baby, into a tiny, rather unstable young woman. He wasn't scared of what she would do. He was scared of what could call her out of the house.


Graverobber cracked his knuckles. "Maybe not to you, but need I remind you the events of last time she and I got together."

In the spring of 2008, when Lilith had been a shy seventeen-year-old, she had managed to work her way into the old building, sit down with Graverobber, and promptly set him on fire. They had fought for over an hour, and by the time they had calmed down, the warehouse had burned down - and that was why the entire organisation was running out of the back room of a vampire bar. They had both been relatively unscathed, but ever since, Grave had been a little nervous about meeting up with her again.


"You know her," he said. "Do you think things will go badly?"


"I can honestly say she is not coming after you again." He opened his mouth to continue, but there was a loud scream and crash out in the bar. Standing up, he went out, preparing to see Loki having made another mess. He was instead greeted by the sight of a small woman, covered head-to-toe in blood.


"Oh, shit," breathed Grave.


Lilith whimpered, holding her hands out in front of her. "Rai." She mumbled. "I think I did something bad again."


[Not as good as the first chapter, but I lost the will to write (but not the determination to finish) after seeing the decapitated bush rat my cat dragged up onto the deck, and listening to her crunch up the bones.]

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