returned from hell

[Byrdie]

ASMODEUS

in case you were wondering,

He daydreamed sometimes of sleep, sometimes of death. He remembered it well. The darkness of the veil beyond the light of this world.

He'd been young once, full of hope for the future. He might even have been handsome. He was not now. Though by no means elderly, time had not been kind to Asmodeus. His perpetually fire-singed mane and tail had grown thinner, bedraggled. His coat had long ago lost its ebon luster, blots of soot dusting his frame in random formation. He hid well in the dappled sunlight, slinking like a jungle beast. But he was a poor sight up close, a towering figure with no direction, unremarkable in mind or body. This would mark his fifteenth winter on this earth, though it was hard to keep track. Some time ago, he had died. He reluctantly recalled the tugging of dread as he was pulled down to the depths of what he believed to be the underworld. It was dark. Senseless. Quiet--so quiet that the silence hurt his ears. The pangs of loneliness in that empty existence changed him. And just as quickly as he arrived, he had been sent back to live a new life. Asmodeus was uncertain just how long he had been there. The earth looked no different and he had no family to return to as a frame of reference. He had died when the leaves were falling, and returned during the summer months. It could have been a mere collection of seasons since he had been gone. But it also could have been lifetimes. He had no way to know. His iron will was all that was noteworthy about him, and that was most often employed to drive others away than to draw their admiration. He had his fair share of critics in his past life. All of which he knew were dead. Not because he saw them die--but because they spoke to him in death. The nagging voices of yesteryear's enemies were enough to drive him mad. There were times he longed for the gritting silence of the hell he had emerged from. The murmurs of the deceased distracted him, especially on the brink of a full moon. It had been some time since he had had a conversation with another of this plane. He had begun to wonder if he was alive at all. He'd long since forfeit any hope of a normal life, friendships included.

He was only worth noting when he moved, when the trained strength of too many years of patrolling and fighting writ themselves into the slide of corded muscle, and he wove through the forest like a minnow darting downstream. Gravity was optional, it seemed, when he and his forest were one. He seemed to float, effortless motion of a ghost above the ground and touched down only where he wished. Asmodeus knew every knot of brambles, every tangle of brush. The trees bore witness to his lonely vigil, and together they breathed and grew and rotted. He longed for rest the way a man dying in the desert longs for water. But death had not seen fit to grant an end to his vigil. It had swallowed him whole and spit him back out to further suffer in breathing.

He had wandered this terrain for what felt like months, undisturbed by another soul, and had begun to wonder if he had been throw back to an earth that was lifeless and barren. The kingdom of his past life had been fat with chattel. Quarrelsome mares and boisterous stallions alike. He had been alone so long. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Sleep was an errant guest, visiting in fits and spurts. It was as though he didn't have a need for it anymore and only nodded on occasion out of past habit. He knew he longed to sleep to escape his reality. He did not wish for death. Not really. He knew what death was. Not what it implied--but what it truly was. He didn't know which he hated worse between breathing and dying. He just knew it was all so tedious. He gazed out past a pair of big-boled oak trees, limbs empty and scratching towards the clearing just feet from him. Snow drifted lazily, forming a velvet white blanket on the ground. He inhaled deeply, the flames filling his nostrils smoldering menacingly.

it is preferable to rule in Hell,

than to serve in Heaven.

[pailerification]

last night i heard a voice that said this is the end,

all my nerves have been worn to the threads..

Black knotted coils of matted mane hung limp from a low-lying neck. At the end dangled a rusty grey head with dark points. She rested now, snow plopping off of her body and a crisp film of ice lining her back and neck’s ridge in form of natural insulation. She had eaten. Not enough to fill her rumbling stomach, but enough to surpass death.. this time. She shivered.

The thought of death seemed to have caused a strong breeze whirl up in the cavern of the crumbled castle. It raked through each fuzzy fur across her barrel and stirred the draping tendrils of mane to tickle her cheeks and eyes, even going so far as to pull her forelock from her forehead.

Odette’s head shot upwards, stark straight. Her cheeks pushed against her throat, ears pointed like pinpricks and she stared out of the large doorway, holding her breath. Something was watching her. She quickly glanced behind her body and back to the entrance in a most paranoid fashion.

“Ananzi?” She questioned the feeling of the presence, fear tainted any attempt to sound brave. Her legs began to churn in a hurried movement, down the steps and out of the corridor; across the dying cobblestone and into the snow. “Ananzi!" She called out in desperate yet futile hopefulness.

Odette’s head darted about to look behind her, ahead, side-to-side, over and over again continuously as her legs moved her at a hurried and stumbling walk. Her ears constantly flicked forth and back, frantically scanning but only collecting the sound of her own hooves crunching the snow. Her nostrils flared big puffs of steamy mist that were so large they trailed along behind her like a chugging locomotive.

Without warning all her motion came to an abrupt halt. Everything seem to whirl around her as she froze. The strong breeze pulled at every black thread, every snowy crystal, every puff of steam and then crashed all of it against the stallion that was suddenly in front of her. She had very rudely tramped into his space. The physically created flurry of elements collided against the steed and emitted a sizzling sound. Odette blinked her big brown eyes and stood stark still again, pointy and straight. Butterflies twirled in her stomach as an eerie feeling hit her, that she was meant to run into this horse; if not pushed into it. “Pardon me, I-“ She stammered, her pupils examining his entire existence with alarm, awe, and fright, “I thought I was being chased.” She managed to spit out, and then waited to see if this was the creature she should actually be running from…

if i believe only half what i read,

i got a reason to be dug in deep..

[Byrdie]

ASMODEUS

in case you were wondering,

Asmodeus heard a rustling nearby, his ears swiveled atop his crown erratically as his crimson eyes searched for the source of the raucous. His breathing was steady, sides heaving heavily like the swell of a large wave on an angry ocean. The embers that simmered in his nostrils sparked with interest as he saw the approach of a creature moving closer to him. She seemed frantic and he could already sense her electric anxiety. She was small and awkward in build, clearly young and yet to grow into herself. If he had the ability to feel he would have smiled, remembering what it was like to be that young. But he truly could not recall. It had been such a long time. At least a decade but likely more when one considered his death and return to life, all of that a span in which time stood still.

The pitch brute took a slow step forwards, emerging from the tree line and into the clearing. The mare was calling a name he had never heard before. Was it someone she knew from within this realm or was she spouting off delusions of grandeur? He could not be certain. He saw her stumbling towards him, his massive frame sturdy and unmovable. He remained planted in his position and when he felt her frail bodice collide with his barreled chest, he barely grunted in response. The snow stirred from her clumsy introduction like a powdery dust. It purled against his molten cracked shoulders and dissipated into vapor.

Asmodeus looked down at the filly, merely blinking at her patiently. He gazed at her for a long moment, meeting her nervous gaze and scanning over her curiously. He had hardly heard the words she had spoken. Chased? Peculiar, as there was no living soul in this clearing for miles. And as Asmodeus detached his gaze from the stranger and scanned the open space, he could see it there. A black mass. An evil presence, huddled behind a craggy, leafless bush. He had seen these too many times before. It was undoubtedly an Angik. Though they were not the worst type of evil entity, they certainly weren't ideal. And it would seem as though it had tethered itself to this unsuspecting youth.

The stallion knew enough about Angiks to know that they were dangerous, but unlike most types of dangerous fae, it would be possible for this mare to go on living with it attached to her. At least until Asmodeus could tell her of its existence and help her rid herself of the beast. Angiks are haunting fairies of the north. They are reanimated spirits of babies that die during hard winters. They are known for haunting those present during the time of their untimely death. They were miserable little spirits during their lives, and have a mission to continue to make everyone miserable. Nothing like a fairy you both fear and feel sorry for.

And so the stallion looked down a the mare and gave her a curt nod. He knew he would have to protect her. After all, he could see the monster and keep it at bay. It was no wonder the parasite kept its distance, as it sensed Asmodeus and knew he was no longer invisible. "Worry not, child. You are safe here." His voice was rich like honey. Not gruff as one would expect. "I am Asmodeus. You look cold. And hungry. I can assist you with one of those at least. Without so much as a thought, the steed bent his neck to a pile of sticks at the base of a sleeping tree and snorted deeply, bursts of flames exploding generously, creating a beautiful red-orange ember that quickly erupted into a healthy flame. "Come. Find warmth here. The snow will stop soon and we can find food. Together." He took a step backwards, in hopes of making the mare more comfortable. He gazed back out into the clearing. The Angik was gone but it would return. Likely when the mare hung her head to sleep. Asmodeus would stand ready for when it happened. "What is your name?" He asked quietly, averting his gaze back to her and noticing her sallow cheeks and her hip bones groping towards the barren trees overhead. She had been haunted for so long. So unaware. Asmodeus felt sorry for her. He wanted to help. It was the only way he could use his curse for good.

it is preferable to rule in Hell,

than to serve in Heaven.