How can blood be our salvation? [OPEN - PG15]

[Meduzia]

Nothing graphic is shown [only a tiny bit of blood, really], but there are people who have rather weak stomach for blood/violence/torture. Don't read if you are one of those. As for later posts. Nothing violent will happen//shrugs. So if you search for battle RP, wrong place, sorry!

Pray for me 'cause I have lost my faith in holy wars
Is paradise denied to me cause I can take no more
Has darkness taken over me, consumed my mortal soul
All my virtues sacrificed, can Heaven be so cruel?
---
How can blood be our salvation
And justify the pain that we have caused throughout the times

Within Temptation - Truth Beneath the Rose

]]

The Scaffold was empty. Quiet. It always was. The woman shuddered, not from cold. She was never cold. She couldn't feel anything. She shuddered because... because it was a human thing to do. She was still inside the box. The Iron Maiden. Palms planted on the walls, woman pushed. Her hands were laying on the spikes, but the supposed victim felt no pain whatsoever even though black blood was flowing down the walls of the device. Her dress was torn, so torn - more than it already was anyway. She pushed harder, needing to open it. Not the way she closed herself in - with her shadows - but in real, touchable way. She wanted to feel human again. She needed to. And she did it, she pushed the torture device open, barely feeling the spikes leave her skin.

Wounds healed up quickly and she was now... She was standing there, in the middle of the Scaffold and she felt like crying. Black haired woman looked around. Nobody. Nobody that she knew of at least. She sat down on the ground, pulling on hair that didn't persist in her hands. Too thin. She wasn't human, not anymore. The woman glanced at her wrist where the dark mark burned before disappearing. She didn't want this. She didn't ask for this, when she turned herself into the demon.

Were those tears? They could be. They were supposed to be. But they were black, pretty much like the rest of her was. They were coming out of black eyes and they looked like oil against her paper-white skin. Texture-less. She was clear, she was so, completely, utterly clear. Rid of all imperfection and yet she was... as far from perfect as it went.

The woman stopped crying, not even needing to remove the oil-like substance that rolled down her cheeks and vanished only when it reached hem of her white dress, making the end become black as well. She felt like she wanted to scream. She didn't want this.

But how does one go back to being human? She blamed everybody but herself. Everybody, everybody... Reena. Una. Dizzy. Ramiel. Everybody. They were all guilty. It was fun at first. It was fun to play with them, to try and have some fun. To try and waste some time - she had plenty of the time. But then it became too much. Then things got out of hand and it just wasn't thrilling anymore. She wanted to be human again. To be mortal.

The eternity is lonely when you don't have somebody to spend it with.... It was even lonelier when you had somebody, but they were just... that wrong person. She realized this. She needed something else, something better. But she ruined her life, all of her chances, before she found this somebody who would be worth spending eternity with. Small, tiny woman sighed, feeling a little but better after her outburst. Demon and yet... it appears demon could feel stress all too well. She removed herself from her central position, blinking at full moon and going to sit under the tree, hiding away from moon's curious, bright glare. She sat down on the small bench and lifted her legs, white dress falling to sides and she hugged her knees, placing her head atop of them and sighing. Amon was so tired. So, so tired. Of everything. Of competing. Of fighting. Of magic.

[welshchick1201]

Oh god--
I love this song <3
Stop this, Evy, seriously //sobs
Also so sorry for stealing your opening line LOL I have this weird love of repetition from two points of views OTL Weird I know--
Also what is vocabulary LOL
Side note - I apologise for...Many things OTL The main one being the opening paragraph ahaha--
Now all we need is Zack to stop being such a creeper and this rp with go beautifully~ ))

The Scaffold was empty. Quiet. Just the usual, it seemed. Moonlight provided the only light. It acted as a torch to the darkness, illuminating silhouettes to use as guides. And illuminating the young man’s blonde hair in a way it appeared white, it seemed, especially in comparison to his dark jacket. Dark clothing in general really. It made him very monochrome, save for his eyes; every hue of green imaginable. A mesmerising, haunting glow much like a cat’s in the night. There was never a set colour to describe his eye colour. Maybe he shifted them different shades of greens and yellows? If this was the case, it was done subconsciously.

Not that his eyes were the only feature standing out on his body at this moment in time, or the most important one. Hideous burns from his earlier encounter with himself (or Aeshma, technically) clung to the back of Zack’s hands with startling difference to his pale skin. The fingerprints on deaths hold, it seems. Of course there were more along his forearms and one on his shoulder blade, but no one would see those. After all, He couldn’t have the students doubting the staff anymore than they already did, so he hid most of his wounds. However, the shifter came out better than he originally thought he would. Nathaniel Sinclair from what he remembered was in a bad shape; and there was no doubt others were in his position too.

He would love to heal his body faster than the mundane process, but it seemed the fight had worn him down more than he imagined it would. And this meant for the first time in 23 years, Zack would have to look semi-unattractive for longer than 24 hours. It saddened him greatly.

Here in the scaffold, to Zack’s relief, there was no need to pretend he was fine like back in the academy. Because in reality, he was far from ‘fine’. So, free from the watchful eyes of terrified students, the blonde could drag his feet instead of making a walk look lively. Tear the trademark grin away and replace it with a look of indifference – another quirk to add to his monochrome appearance.

For all the academy knew, he could be dead. He had, after all, left without telling anyone where he was going and for how long he’d be away. Ok, so maybe this wasn’t the best choice of action, but Zack just needed to get away from it all. He was far too used to losing the people he loved, but that didn’t make things any easier. The past month or so had been draining – Physically and emotionally, and there was no doubt in the blonde’s mind these games wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon, let alone getting easier.

And really, Zack had been looking forward to the peace and quiet more than anything. The chance to think about everything that had begun to overflow inside. That was, of course, until he saw her. Not that he could identify who she was, but she seemed...Sad. Yes, very sad. It wasn’t her expression that told him that, since he couldn’t see her face right now. It was her posture. It had a way of screaming ‘unhappy’, and regardless of how he felt right now, it would be rude to walk on past without at least asking if she was ok.

“Hello?” - He approached her carefully, not sure if the precautious step in his walk was for her benefit or his own. After all, a man with burns on his hands and a creepy French accent gazing at you with cat-like eyes is...Terrifying, to most. As if atoning for this, he gave a small smile before stopping directly in front of the small woman. – “Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if you were ok. You seem...Sad.”

Though now he was closer, he began to notice things he couldn’t at a distance. There was a black substance on her white dress, just settling on the hem. What he described as ‘small’ earlier was correct, but possibly under exaggerated. There were many things about this girl he began to question, yet hoped his curiosity hadn’t betrayed him and shown outwardly. Though, like usual, it probably did. Nevertheless, it was most likely too dark for her to see if his smile disappeared briefly or not. Or so he hoped.

[Meduzia]

"And this meant for the first time in 23 years, Zack would have to look semi-unattractive for longer than 24 hours. It saddened him greatly."

This is not only my favourite line from that post or this RP in whole, or any RP. It's my favourite line that I've EVER read in English. Besides, Zack isn't creep. Amon is creep //papming ]]

Somebody was approaching... she couldn't tell, she couldn't see. But she could hear him very well... Yes, him indeed. The heavy, tired walk of the person who has given up. Or maybe he hasn't done so yet. Maybe he has yet to. Maybe he won't do it at all. It was none of Amon's concern. She didn't raise her head, hoping that he would go away. She wanted to talk and yet... she wanted to keep quiet. People were dangerous. They didn't understand.

The he spoke to her and heavy head lifted towards the sound, but slight woman couldn't see anything in front of her eyes. Empty sockets were staring into Zack until he spoke again.

"I believe..." - she rasped out and stopped, not sure what to say to the question - "That just isn't any of your concern."

Shadows... could a shadow be there, if there was no object to cast it? Apparently it could. Shadows started forming around her face until they formed into two completely black and yet completely functional eyes. Everything was like this on her. Nothing lasted forever. She could dissolve at will... Perhaps her skin was of more solid things.... If that could even be called solid. Like porcelain, in every way. Only porcelain could hold actual beauty and her skin didn't. Amon was never to doubt her physical appearance or to bully herself. She knew exactly what she looked like, thank you very much.

As her vision was brought back, she looked at the man with unfamiliar step. Bright haired... Perhaps... Perhaps there was still something human in her. Memories? Most certainly. He looked a lot like some people she knew. Albeit long time ago. She shook the image of her father telling her to try harder from her head. Then she squinted, looking at him closer. In the dark, she couldn't make him out too well, but she knew he was sort of familiar. Ramiel? Hardly. That one didn't come snooping around the Scaffold. Collin? Nope. That one is locked away safely... As safe as one can be with Antonia in one-mile radius from them. This man, she didn't know him. But he was so, so familiar.

Academy? Of course he had to be one of those... From where else would he be? Then she noticed them. The burns. In her vision, they stood out from her pale skin like her blood or tears stood out from hers.

"Aeshma." - she whispered and she knew she should feel satisfied with herself. How many sacrificed, how many days and nights had she spent analyzing each and every person? How many times - and more than she would like to admit - had Una had to make the clones, copies, because she couldn't anymore? She should be happy. Because her clone did good, because it turned out to be (almost) stronger than the original.

But she didn't feel so. Had she been human, perhaps she would feel unsettling in her stomach, that unpleasant feeling of guilt and the voice nagging at the back of her head, telling her that she did so many wrong. That it has gotten far past behind the game. And yet she wasn't human and she felt this way. She almost wanted to burn away... But she was a shadow, smoke herself. Instead she motioned to Zack to sit beside her, carelessly.

Yes, people were dangerous. People who snooped around the Scaffold were [that's why none of the students and headmaster were, she thought, and it made perfect logic to her]. And yet... wasn't Amon the one snooping around too?

"I don't bite." - she promised, black out coming out cautiously to lick at sharp white teeth. Not that those were all too solid either. She wanted her human form back, not this thing she had to revive every three days.

[welshchick1201]

Oh god, I’m so sorry OTL
My vocabulary no longer exists apparently ; v ;
I’ll just go cry now-- //whatdoesitmeanplz))

He forced back a laugh, trying not to tilt his head too much and look like a creep. He was finding her interesting in the strangest way, and it gave him hope that the day hadn't been a total disaster after all. After all, she seemed lonely, Zack was lonely...Maybe they could help each other out?

Was she demon though? Yes, most certainly. He felt there was no need to ask, since it was pretty self explanatory. Besides, most women didn’t like being asked their age or weight, let alone if they were demon or not and seeing as this one looked temperamental so to say, it was best not to risk it. Though on a more serious note, Zack had never come across a demon before; not in The Game World at least. He was in the dark with no idea what to expect, except the small knowledge he had gained from the academy and its students, though none were from Game World anyway (as far as he knew). And their supposed demon headmaster, though he didn’t believe that. Mindless teenage gossip, he assumed.

Though she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had laid eyes on. Minus the lack of eyes, but that issue was fixed almost instantly anyway. There were so many things to compliment, yet the words wouldn’t come if he wanted them to. She was demon for a reason, yes...? Perhaps she was a succubus?

There were all sorts of beautiful in the world, with different ways of obtaining them. Some were a natural beauty, others a fake. This girl though, it was a sad beauty. Broken, even. Not his personal preference, but he would be lying if he tried to deny her good looks. She was on par with Zack, though his was a natural beauty (so he claimed) and that apparently surpasses broken beauty (though he had no explanation how or why).

It was also clear as day that, to the average person, Zack would more than likely came across as the local idiot. To a certain extent, he was. Many gave him too little credit, though, in many ways. He was much more observant than it appeared on the surface (this was sort of a side effect of his mind being unable to switch off as of late).

He followed the woman’s gaze subtly until his own settled on his hands. With a sly smile, he held his hands up in a mock defence to her earlier comment on how it was ‘non of his concern’. Adding a small whistle, the shifter began rubbing his hands together in a motion of gathering warmth before sliding them into his jacket pockets. “Don’t worry about those. It was an accident, so to say.” – Yes, because copy of yourself ‘accidentally’ breaks into your academy and burns you. But what’s one little lie?

First she told him to leave, next she’s offering him to sit down? Bipolar? Possibly. This was usually the moment when Zack made a ridiculous excuse to leave and did just that. Luckily, most of his excuses were pretty believable. Except for that one time he told a teacher he had to go because his sixth sense was telling him his cat was drowning in the bathtub. But really, other than that they were pretty sane. However, he didn’t think of a makeshift excuse to leave. Not this time.

“I’m sure you don’t,” – Amazingly, he managed that trademark grin regardless of everything. The weeks had left him tired. Far too tired. If this woman meant any harm to him, he was out of luck. Small task like moving had become too tiring, let alone another fight.

“So, what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing out here? Or is that none of my concern either?” – With a coy look from the side, he shrugged effortlessly and sat down next to her regardless. Because honestly, if he didn’t take a break soon, he wouldn’t be getting back to the academy tonight. Though he agreed that if he was to take a break, he’d have fun doing it. – “After all, people with good hearts don’t come here in their spare time...So what does that make us?”

Yes. What did it make them...?

[Meduzia]

Tiredly, warily, she followed the gaze of this strange man, this unusual, quirky man with foreign accent. After all, if he wasn't quirky, why else would he put up with her? Why else would he be here, in this God-forsaken place, that mainly dead attended to? So many questions. She could already see it and she could see it clearly. He was a riddle. He is... maybe no, not yet, but she could see this man is going to occupy her for a while, with his strange behaviour. Not necessarily bad... but strange nonetheless. Once more the black eyes settled onto his hands. The eyes sparkled for a moment before what little life was inside left. Still no feeling of self-satisfaction. Bored, evil, cruel... She didn't like thinking of herself like that, but Amon could stand being called all those words. Maybe... Perhaps... Perhaps she was. Bored, evil and cruel - each and every one of them. But she was not sadistic. Inflicting pain on others brought her no pleasure. Only now she realized this.

"I am not being... worried." - she said with a plastic grin on her face, the one that so clearly showed that she was torn between laughing out loud and crying, for God's sake. She wanted to do both, not because she liked seeing his burned flesh, but because he was lying through his teeth and she knew it, she knew it. Was it normal to want to laugh and cry because of the same reason? Because that... that... Amon found that amusing and sad at the same time. But she couldn't cry, not in front of him. The man who asked what was wrong was the man that was concerned. Crying lead to comfort. She did not want to be comforted, because that lead to her being weak. And weakness... weakness was a human emotion. As much as she wanted to feel human, she did not wish to start with it. She hiccuped slightly at the thought, but no tears came out of her eyes and it sounded more like a strangled sob. She raised her hand and covered her lips, mouthing 'pardon me' as she coughed to hide this.

"There are all sorts of creatures here, Mr..." - she trailed off, leaving the space empty to he could add his own name there - "You never know who you can run into. Most of the things around here, they do eat... people. They bite." - and rarely do they ever speak to their food. Amon didn't feed, on anything. She did hear stories about demons feeding on flesh, souls, sometimes even fear... Souls, alright. They were just SO rare. Flesh? Well... she couldn't exactly deny that even though she herself has never eaten anything except for domestic animals. But fears? No, those were boogiemen, witches... Not demons. They don't feed on fear. They don't feed on something they don't have or can't feel themselves. But then again... did this mean she has a soul? She hoped so.

"What does that make us? What does that make...us?" - the woman shook her head slightly, lowering one bare foot to the ground. As she made the motion with her head, the black locks appeared and disappeared around her shoulders, like a shadow getting lost into the light. Even though there was none. Even though she was sitting in the shadow, away from the moon (not that it did her any different. She wasn't sensitive to the light, lads. That was Una).

Beautiful and young were relative terms. She wasn't beautiful. Perhaps in human form... not like this. She wasn't young either. She only had no features to prove that...

"That... makes us desperate, I would say." - she turned to blonde male, making some sort of half-smirk - "What else brings people here? I don't see you trying to kill me yet. Perhaps you aren't entirely evil, then? But as you said... No good persists here." - he gaze went to the Iron Maiden she was in some moments ago. No amount of that black substance she called blood could run out of her to make her human. To make her pure. Even like that, she wouldn't be. As if on the reflex, she rubbed her white, clear wrist. Nothing was there, but... she just had this heavy feeling. However, the mark hadn't persisted, pretty much like nothing did on her skin. Perhaps it wasn't that bad... Oh who was she joking. She observed Zack from under her black eyelashes. She would rather be burnt, than have to suffer from this. Surely, if the other was to touch her, his hand would slide across the smooth surface until he reached her fingerprint-less fingers. And even them, if she didn't catch him with practiced skill.

[welshchick1201]

There was so much he wanted to do for this woman, because she needed it. Zack didn’t need to know her name, or why she was here. He didn’t need to know her story, or any other trivial thing to know she needed comforting –whether she knew it herself or not. He had turned his attention back to her, cat-like eyes scouring her yet again, because he simply couldn’t help himself. There was something about this woman, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It fuelled him, regained his life and energy he assumed was all but lost tonight. Wrong, it seems. He was exceptionally talented at talking to females, if only to make them laugh by making himself a clown. Sometimes, he would just offer them comfort, however, and wanted to do so for the black haired woman in front of him. More than he could understand why.

He almost jumped from being so startled by the sobbing. Well, it resembled sobbing, at least...And yet as much as he wanted to hide the burns from this woman in hopes she wouldn’t question them further and test his shitty ability to lie on the spot, he couldn’t just...Leave her there. Not when she was so painfully upset. With a gentle ‘tsk’ to himself, the shifter pulled his hand from a pocket and cautiously reached out to rest on her shoulder in hopes the gesture will come across as ‘comforting’ – “That’s always good. But honestly, if I knew you would get this emotional over me –not that I blame you, of course- I wouldn’t have bothered staying in the first place!” – He was grinning from ear to ear, as you’d expect. Now he was just being an ass, but a pretentious one at least. Maybe she’ll laugh at him, if not with? He could hope.

“Mr Abrial.” – He interjected his name with her pause like expected. Also a lie though, in a way. Or a truth within a lie. Zack’s name –his real name- has always been and always will be ‘Abrial’ It was his father’s surname into which his mother married, thus making him ‘Zachary Abrial’ on paper. In the blonde’s eyes, however, a birth certificate is no more important than any other piece of paper, and should hold no more meaning than one. The point of that lecture was Zack didn’t like his father’s surname, so he kept his mother’s maiden one since he could remember. It was safer to not give your ‘true’ identity out to strange demons, so an ‘alias’ (hardly) would do for now. – “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Though please, call me Zack. Though I am well aware of the dangers and I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Thank you for the obvious concern though, nevertheless.

Now, what is your name? I find it only fair you tell me in exchange for my own, non? [no?]” – In reality, he was just ridiculously curious. Zack had a simplistic mind in the way he could be very childish –as he was being right now. When something caught his attention, no matter how small, he had to keep asking -keep working- until he found what he wanted. And tomorrow, when he was back at the academy, he would continue searching for the beast. Continue searching for this ‘Unknown’ and put an end to pointless suffering.

“Desperate...” – He repeated the woman’s words once, twice... Three or four times. He began laughing, with no idea why. Surely if he didn’t look like a madman by now, beauté sans nom [nameless beauty] must also be mad in her own way. – “Oh yes. Very desperate people reside here, you and me alike. However, I see no reason to kill you, mon amie [my friend]. In fact, I have no desire to do any wrong here tonight, or any other to follow... Really, I came here to escape, as cowardly as it seems. Escape my fears, my responsibility, even if only for a night. When you find yourself in the Scaffold, I guess you truly are desperate.” – He smiled at her, though it held no bliss, no charm like one would expect. Fatigue and carelessness riddled his face, and if the exhausted dragged tone to his voice hadn’t spoke his feelings out enough already.

Oh how he wished he had his guitar right now, and not just for serenading. The guitar he and Sam –his best friend- had shared, with memories and happier times scared from top to bottom in black sharpie along its surface. It calmed the shifter in ways he could never explain to people who hadn’t experienced it for themselves. When distressed, or disorientated, he often found himself playing mindless chords that always managed to resemble a song he and his deceased friend had written all those years ago. And when the words to those songs began to shape his mouth: that was when he would stop playing.

“And you? What reason brings you here tonight, under judgement of deathless sky and full moon?”

[Meduzia]

There was something so wrong with this person. Of course, Amon herself didn't have any really defined idea about what that was. She just knew that she found this young man so curious. Or were all young men insane, prone to dangers and believed they could woo anybody, like certain Headmasters and certain Music teachers that we shan't name here, but they will recognize themselves. Zack would certainly be there, not that Amon would ever know of it after all. The woman was still peering at the other person, as if judging him, trying to read him with just first glace, her eyes going from empty to curious and from curious to empty. It was like never-ending circle to her.

The man was touching her and she could barely feel it, warn hands against her skin. As far as she knew... It wasn't cold but it wasn't warn either, her own skin. She hated it, pretty much like she hated most of her physical appearance at times like this. Then there would be times when she told herself how beautiful she actually was. Then they were times she wished her skin would be imperfect, freckled or simply of some darker shade. Anything, pink if it wanted. Green. Just not this hideous shade of porcelain. She was quiet for a long while.

"Don't you worry your pretty blonde head over me, Mr Zack Abrial." - she spoke after a good silence, not adding anything else afterwards for a good measure. She observed Zack some more and a completely sarcastic smile appeared on her face and she was looking at his hands once again. A strangled laugh left her as well and she did her best not to chuckle.

"If you take care of yourself like you did while fighting a fire demon, it's a vain hope." - she shrugged, but her whole posture did not support her words. She was teasing, her voice held no malice. Instead she sounded tired, just so tired and so sympathetic, as if she was not the one who sent the demon. She was getting tired of the game. It has gotten too gruesome for her liking. So maybe she was... Maybe she was of those... Mild-mannered ones after all. She was not made to be a leader. Or perhaps... A leader in different circumstances. She could even dee that working and Amon hoped.

"Most monsters don't need a reason. They just.. kill." - woman was now fully smirking, looking sideways at Zack with a cocky expression on her face, her attitude changing and she was becoming more normal... Still so, so stressed, but at least she didn't look like too much of a wreck. Instead of tired, her voice has gotten dreamy once again and she stretched slightly in her spot.

"I have many names.... My real name is rarely ever used, anymore. They called me Cassie, because I can summon a demon whose name ends with 'cas'. Elle because of the same reason. Amon, because that can't really get any shorter.... Unknown, for I am hidden." - she explained, finally offering her own name - "Did you know that Amon means hidden?"

There was it. That easiness she spoke with. That gentle, dreamy way she talked about everything and anything, the voice that echoed throughout the Academy in tired evenings and early mornings. And there was the posture. She stood up and stretched once again then stood in front of Zack (him sitting and her standing up, she was only slightly taller than him), her shoulders slouched a bit. She decided not to mentioned how his name wasn't really familiar to her. After all, she was so bad with names.

[welshchick1201]

To his own surprise, he didn’t jerk his hand away. Instead, he stiffened, unable to decide what to do next. What did she just say...? No. No, that wasn’t possible... After a minute of silence, he slowly slid his hand off her shoulder and returned it to his side, his other hand tugging restlessly at a scarf around his neck. Sam’s scarf, to clarify. Another item he ‘borrowed’ and never gave back, even after his friend died. After all, a dead guy won’t be needing one of his old scarves now will he? Not that any of that was Zack’s main priority right now. He was far more concerned by what this woman had just said.

His voice also surprised him; strikingly calm, considering he was expecting accusation. – “How do you know about Aeshma?” - Of course, there was still an edge to the question he asked, a gentle anger stirring beneath the surface. There were, after all, two possibilities, and either were bad in their own way. Wait, what was she saying? Zack hadn’t been paying attention to the words. No, he was more interested in the voice...

That voice...Her voice.... Where have I heard it? Why did it sound so familiar...?

It seems he got his answer. This woman was Amon. Their Amon, who attacked the school and who kidnapped –even killed- its students and staff. He didn’t leap from his seat and lash out blindly, like he assumed would happen if ever this one in a million chance of meeting Amon came around. Didn’t act rash for once. Perhaps it was the fact he was so tired, so drained. Or maybe how he felt like someone had slapped him (to an extent, he had. With words, but they still left him stunned nonetheless). But –like earlier- the thing that surprised him most was how calm he was feeling about it all.

For a long time, Zack simply stared at her, and without the slight narrow in his glare, his expression was almost indifferent. It was undeniable he was angry at this woman, for causing so much pain and suffering, yet... He couldn’t bring himself to show this anger, as much as he wanted. And after raking her up and down several times with a square gaze of pure exhaustion, he laughed once more, that sly smile returning.

“So...” – His voice held no amusement, though, regardless of his current expression. His voice held no specific emotion at all, really. It was very blunt, straightforward. No usual lift to it, any teasing manner or playfulness. – “You’re the infamous Amon who killed all my friends and students? You sent that Aeshma -who gave me these beautiful scars- merci beacoup [thank you very much].” – He allowed a chuckle to escape his throat before leaning back further, his arm stretched along the length of the bench where Amon had just sat.

“Did you know we’re all angels, Amon? According mythology and religion? Me, you, even others from Scream Academy such as Nathaniel and Ramiel. You know them, I assume. After all, you’ve been keeping a very close eye on us, haven’t you?” – He had no idea why he was saying such meaningless trivia, asking such trivial questions. After all, it wasn’t like she would care for this banter. She didn’t seem the type to, at least. - “In fact, I’ll correct myself: me, Nate and Ramiel are angels, yet you—You are fallen. I find this terribly ironic if not accurate, don’t you?”

Zack fell into silence –welcomed it even. Was it to allow her time to answer his questions? Hardly. Nothing made sense right now, not to Zack. It was a rush of fragmented words and thoughts of which his own mind couldn’t quite process. He kept his head down, not wanting to look this woman –Amon, as he now knows- in the face. It was funny how one minute he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and the next he wanted nothing more than to avoid her gaze. His burns caught the corner of his eye again, a bitter laugh rising in the back of his mind. Oh, all the things we’ll have to talk about, Amon...

After coming to terms with the situation, he lifted his head one again. He scoffed at how differently he now saw her, now he knew who she really was. She was still beautiful, that hadn’t change, yet his outlook on her had changed. It shrouded her with a sort of negative appearance, without her actual appearance needing to change... This wasn’t making sense. With a sigh, he narrowed his eyes, the only feature of his face specifically clear in the darkness. After all, that was the advantage of having such cat-like eyes – Demons confessing to the murder of your friends and family while in a dark execution ground could see just how you felt about it, apparently. - “Why exactly are you doing this? Surely it can’t be fun, to hurt and murder teenagers who have done no wrong to you.”

[Meduzia]

How do I know... How do I.... know.... How... now.. Aeshma... How do I know if... Aeshma?

The voice in her own head, the voice of her arm thoughts seemed to muffled at the moment. Wasn't it obvious? Of course, she has never really... displayed herself to the Academy. Her form wouldn't give out much anyway. Sometimes, she had horns. Sometimes, she had pointy ears and tail. Sometimes, like now, she didn't have any. Because... that was what demons were supposed to have and she wasn't a demon until her binder decided to Summon her. As far as she knew, her binder couldn't. He didn't know how, and she was alright with it staying that way. But the voice. She was the voice of Academy, in so many wrong ways. Her voice was what identified her. And now? What about now, that she is so sick of this? When she is on the verge of giving up and that she needs just the little shove to be pushed over that edge and she'd stop this, she would stop... But would the others... The other. It was not the Love girl who was a problem. She was a hospital case, but not too interested in students themselves, she just liked killing, the blood, the pain she cause. It made Amon sick somewhat. The other, was the problem. The lich sorceress. How does she get rid of her? She had to think on this... Woman's attention snapped back to Zack and she raised her eyes from the ground, though in the darkness they didn't appear any different. Pale moonlight illuminated her face, but her eyes were so empty anyway.

"I know, because I approved of it. I said that it would be alright to send it to Academy. You would survive." - her own skin hid that encounter. Somebody had to test the magic. Her fought her own close, under Una's supervision. She could remember the burn to clearly. She could remember how the demons she summoned didn't even need their senses to know where her clone was - flame was basically erupting from the woman's exact copy. Her skin, however, healed quickly, and it didn't leave any traces, even if only fingertips at her wrist, just above that mark she had.

Zack Abrial's posture changed and Amon knew, he had the pieces brought together. He knew who she was, now. Her eyes seemed to harden before all emotion once again disappeared from deep shadow-like orbs. For a brief, fleeting moment something akin to sadness was etched on her face and she was seemed disappointed, but then that emotion was wiped away and she was left with poker face. She might've come out as rather... weak... in front of some other people, but she won't in front of him. She will not justify herself to somebody other, not yet. So far, by now, she was the leader. The leader that couldn't hold her team together, the Miss Fortune that couldn't hold all the threads to the lives she had to and some of them got lost, carried away and she dropped them and people died. This was her mistake, siding with that lunatic and now she was paying, now. Soon, too soon, but she couldn't do anything now, not even complain, because she deserved this.

"I can't heal those" - she said and in that moment she slid down on the ground once again, defeated. - "I can't..." - her own voice was getting muffled in her head once again and something just screamed at her that she wouldn't cry. Not not, not ever, not for this man she had no obligations towards. Not for this child that she has basically ruined with her stubborn wish to go on and not anger the woman she has underestimated. This needed to stop. Amon bit on her lip, remembering the feeling on Iron Maiden on her skin and how that pain didn't ease anything and how crying did... On one hand she was happy not to be masochistic, on the other crying was so much harder.

"That is a nice logic." - she spoke once she was sure that her voice wouldn't crack. She was looking somewhere past Zack's shoulder, and most certainly not at him directly. The blood flowed from her lip before she lapped at it, but in that small time, from bite to it healing completely, the head of the large hound appeared next to her and she pointed at it just as it disappeared into smoke once again - "Only Amon is his name... Not mine. My name means butterfly, if that's of any interest to you."

Of course, she couldn't see why it would be, but she said it mainly to prove her point. Were they angels? Of course they were. Zachary, the prophet. Nathaniel, the angel of fire. Ramiel, the angel of hope. Then there was Amon... the demon that caused feuds. Well that she did... And Zack questioned that, he asked that question that crossed the line and one tear rolled across her cheek even though her shadow-like tongue came out to collect it, she was too slow and it slid down until it reached the hem of her dress to disappear there, into black traces that were there before she met this peculiar cat-eyed man.

"They weren't supposed to die." - she said, her face now back to it's previous - the indifferent expression, though some guilt could be visible - "Nobody was supposed to die. You were supposed to think they died. To... They were supposed to disappear, but they'd be safe, with me. Then things..." - could she really confide in him? The stranger she met here, in the Scaffold? Hardly - "... changed. But they were not supposed to die and they did not... Not from my hand."