Character List: Click
Darius Landau woke as the rays of the sun started to warm his face. He usually woke with the sun, and he rolled over towards it, putting more of himself into the gentle light and warmth that came through the navy curtains. A light smile came to his face. He knew it was the weekend – otherwise he’d be waking before the sun when his cursed alarm went off, all thanks to daylight savings time. On weekends, he got to sleep in a little later – which really wasn’t that late.
Gradually, the Nephilim opened his own dark blue eyes, and took in the morning around himself, the room painted in hues of white and blue, crispness to the air. ‘It must be freezing outside.’ Not that Darius ever seemed to notice. His blood burned hot, all thanks to his mother being inclined towards fire.
So, too, was he.
He rolled out of bed and marched right into his joined bathroom, using the water of a quick shower to wake himself up more, and smiling blearily at his own reflection before sticking a toothbrush in his mouth, once he’d stepped out of the quick shower. He didn’t bother touching his hair. The natural curliness of his hair made it hell to touch with a comb or brush, so he usually just went through it with his fingers once it was dry again.
Cleaned up, he grabbed a towel to dry off with as he strode back into his room, only to toss the towel haphazardly onto his bed. It was never made. The laundry was a pile he dealt with later – well, the dirty laundry. The clean laundry was always hung up or put away nicely. He didn’t go to his closet, though. He went to the dresser, and he drew out a pair of simple black sweatpants for the morning. He’d get dressed later – not before breakfast.
It was his home. He didn’t need to get dressed until he had something to do, and he’d grown comfortable around Charlotte. Perhaps, too comfortable. ‘This is her home more than it is your home.’ Though it felt like it was their home, and at times, he wondered how it would be to separate from her and live on his own.
He never liked those thoughts, but there was a voice in the back of his head that told him that, one day, he would have to. He needed to go get a life of his own. ‘When she’s safe.’ And Darius knew that Charlie was not safe. That was why they were training every morning that they could, to make sure she was prepared. Perhaps she was not as strong as her father, by virtue of her mixed blood, but she had grand potential, and even Darius knew that humans could do fantastic things without the help of angelic blood in their veins.
Not feats of magic, but they’d invented guns.
Guns sucked.
Tools and technology were at the disposal of humans, and wits.
With a yawn, he finally exited his room and walked along the carpeted floor to the stairs, descending down them with a bit of a stagger to his step. ‘Guess I’m not as awake as I thought.’ He didn’t dwell on it as he hit the base floor and found the remote on the coffee table of the living space. He flicked on the TV, set it to the usual Saturday morning cartoons. He didn’t really watch them much, but he liked the background noise. He’d move into the kitchen then, to start to prepare breakfast for himself and for Charlie.
That meant two skillets. He wasn’t a vegetarian himself, but he knew his housemate was, and he didn’t want to get any meat in her omelette. He determined that was what he wanted, and he could easily make a delicious veggie-filled one, while he ate one with bacon in it. ‘And hashbrowns.’ Almost on autopilot, he moved through the kitchen, pots and pans ringing as he dug through them for the tools he wanted, the cutting boards, the skillets, the knives, and went about his Saturday routine of preparing breakfast.
He was always up early enough. ‘Oh, right. Coffee.’ And he had to get that started, too, if only for himself.
‘It’s so…domestic.’ He chuckled at the thought, amused by it. It was. It was the kind of normal that Micah would have wanted for his family, and Darius knew he was viewed that way. Family. Brother. Nothing more.
~***~
Planes, hotels, post offices, this life was becoming the norm for Mia Pietus. It wouldn’t have been bad, but the woman woke exhausted and stared across her bed to the other, occupied, bed. ‘You know why you’re exhausted.’ The answer was in her companion, who made life difficult at times. She didn’t want to get up. ‘If you don’t get up, you’re going to die.’ A truth she hated to acknowledge. She was more demon than human. Sleep and food did not provide her with what she needed to subsist for long. For a while – they extended it – but it was like living on only water and bread.
The woman dragged herself out of her bed and crept into the bathroom, grabbing some of her clothes from the dresser and closet of the hotel room. She didn’t change before him – they’d been around each other for years, and yet, she’d never crossed any lines with him, made sure to keep those lines in clear sight, and that meant not changing anywhere he could see.
It wouldn’t tell him much – she looked human. Her mother had been a succubus, after all. The predator lured its prey by enticing, and so she had been the perfect bait.
Mia never thought of herself in such ways. She did not have her mother’s curves, nor her red hair or green eyes. She was not the picture of voluptuous perfection, she was too angled for it, too sharp, her hair was too pale – but she didn’t need to kill, either. Just sap some energy. A crowded bus, a subway, anywhere people were pressed together would be enough, and Mia was already mapping out the plan to get to the rift and how she could utilize the train there.
‘At least this is a large city.’ Though her destination was on the outskirts. ‘You thought this town would hide us.’ Plenty of murders. Plenty of issues. And yet still the hunters singled out her mother from all of that.
The thought was unpleasant, and certainly, her emotions were boiling despite the composed look on her face as she brushed through her blonde hair, dressed well – black heels, black dress pants, and a simple white button-up. The necklace was hidden under the blouse, and when she exited the room, the sword was taped up with orange, to appear safe. Peacebound.
Mia could break that with a pull, but mortals didn’t need to know that. ‘Still asleep.’ Her eyes moved over Andrew, and she thought to write a note, but decided not to waste any time. He knew she was traveling about, writing articles on the various portals to hell for her ‘grant research’. Perks of being an anthropology grad student working on their dissertation…supposedly.
Obviously, she was writing these things to keep getting the funding. She wrote one that was academic, and more recently, she’d started writing one ‘less academic’, and publishing it with one of those clickbait websites for additional funds, under the name M.Pietus. Halloween was right on the horizon…these kinds of stories were hot. Haunted houses and gates to hell were what everyone wanted to know about.
‘And it’s published now.’ She thought just as she exited the room and went to the elevator, checking her phone to see the e-mail of approval and the promise of funds based on views. It even had a horrible clickbait title about the 7 ways to Hell in the United States, and one of those atrocious lead-ins about a small town in Kansas called Stull - or maybe, it was once Skull. 'It wasn't.' But people liked a story more than they liked truth.
It didn’t even amuse her. She just shoved her phone back in her pocket, and as the elevator dinged that it hit the base floor, she was quick to get out and walk on, ignoring breakfast, and heading out to catch a bus to the train station. ‘Rain….’ Well, that might help things be a bit more packed on a Saturday morning.
It didn’t help with the bus, but once Mia descended into the subway, it was easier to end up pressed against others in the actual train car – once she figured out where she was going. She was too tired to pay attention to much going on around her, and fortunately, so were many others, so it didn’t seem too strange for her to seem to be leaning against her own arm as she held onto railing above her, and sway with the others as the train came to its stops at the various stations.
And each brush with others, each moment she was locked against someone, she made sure to pull at their energy, just a bit. Never enough to kill or exhaust – she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t going to leave a string of dead people around her.
Sure, it showed in ways. Soured moods. Deepened exhaustion. Some would slip into sorrow, and others, a contented sleepiness. Mia was never aware of these things unless the others showed it obviously, and even then, to her it was hard to distinguish the changes energy zapping had on others in the morning, when most were tired, anyways.
So the train ticked on, eventually getting out near the suburbs of the large city, and that was when she finally started taking note of the stops so she knew which one to get off at, to get closer to the hell gate.
Darius Landau woke as the rays of the sun started to warm his face. He usually woke with the sun, and he rolled over towards it, putting more of himself into the gentle light and warmth that came through the navy curtains. A light smile came to his face. He knew it was the weekend – otherwise he’d be waking before the sun when his cursed alarm went off, all thanks to daylight savings time. On weekends, he got to sleep in a little later – which really wasn’t that late.
Gradually, the Nephilim opened his own dark blue eyes, and took in the morning around himself, the room painted in hues of white and blue, crispness to the air. ‘It must be freezing outside.’ Not that Darius ever seemed to notice. His blood burned hot, all thanks to his mother being inclined towards fire.
So, too, was he.
He rolled out of bed and marched right into his joined bathroom, using the water of a quick shower to wake himself up more, and smiling blearily at his own reflection before sticking a toothbrush in his mouth, once he’d stepped out of the quick shower. He didn’t bother touching his hair. The natural curliness of his hair made it hell to touch with a comb or brush, so he usually just went through it with his fingers once it was dry again.
Cleaned up, he grabbed a towel to dry off with as he strode back into his room, only to toss the towel haphazardly onto his bed. It was never made. The laundry was a pile he dealt with later – well, the dirty laundry. The clean laundry was always hung up or put away nicely. He didn’t go to his closet, though. He went to the dresser, and he drew out a pair of simple black sweatpants for the morning. He’d get dressed later – not before breakfast.
It was his home. He didn’t need to get dressed until he had something to do, and he’d grown comfortable around Charlotte. Perhaps, too comfortable. ‘This is her home more than it is your home.’ Though it felt like it was their home, and at times, he wondered how it would be to separate from her and live on his own.
He never liked those thoughts, but there was a voice in the back of his head that told him that, one day, he would have to. He needed to go get a life of his own. ‘When she’s safe.’ And Darius knew that Charlie was not safe. That was why they were training every morning that they could, to make sure she was prepared. Perhaps she was not as strong as her father, by virtue of her mixed blood, but she had grand potential, and even Darius knew that humans could do fantastic things without the help of angelic blood in their veins.
Not feats of magic, but they’d invented guns.
Guns sucked.
Tools and technology were at the disposal of humans, and wits.
With a yawn, he finally exited his room and walked along the carpeted floor to the stairs, descending down them with a bit of a stagger to his step. ‘Guess I’m not as awake as I thought.’ He didn’t dwell on it as he hit the base floor and found the remote on the coffee table of the living space. He flicked on the TV, set it to the usual Saturday morning cartoons. He didn’t really watch them much, but he liked the background noise. He’d move into the kitchen then, to start to prepare breakfast for himself and for Charlie.
That meant two skillets. He wasn’t a vegetarian himself, but he knew his housemate was, and he didn’t want to get any meat in her omelette. He determined that was what he wanted, and he could easily make a delicious veggie-filled one, while he ate one with bacon in it. ‘And hashbrowns.’ Almost on autopilot, he moved through the kitchen, pots and pans ringing as he dug through them for the tools he wanted, the cutting boards, the skillets, the knives, and went about his Saturday routine of preparing breakfast.
He was always up early enough. ‘Oh, right. Coffee.’ And he had to get that started, too, if only for himself.
‘It’s so…domestic.’ He chuckled at the thought, amused by it. It was. It was the kind of normal that Micah would have wanted for his family, and Darius knew he was viewed that way. Family. Brother. Nothing more.
~***~
Planes, hotels, post offices, this life was becoming the norm for Mia Pietus. It wouldn’t have been bad, but the woman woke exhausted and stared across her bed to the other, occupied, bed. ‘You know why you’re exhausted.’ The answer was in her companion, who made life difficult at times. She didn’t want to get up. ‘If you don’t get up, you’re going to die.’ A truth she hated to acknowledge. She was more demon than human. Sleep and food did not provide her with what she needed to subsist for long. For a while – they extended it – but it was like living on only water and bread.
The woman dragged herself out of her bed and crept into the bathroom, grabbing some of her clothes from the dresser and closet of the hotel room. She didn’t change before him – they’d been around each other for years, and yet, she’d never crossed any lines with him, made sure to keep those lines in clear sight, and that meant not changing anywhere he could see.
It wouldn’t tell him much – she looked human. Her mother had been a succubus, after all. The predator lured its prey by enticing, and so she had been the perfect bait.
Mia never thought of herself in such ways. She did not have her mother’s curves, nor her red hair or green eyes. She was not the picture of voluptuous perfection, she was too angled for it, too sharp, her hair was too pale – but she didn’t need to kill, either. Just sap some energy. A crowded bus, a subway, anywhere people were pressed together would be enough, and Mia was already mapping out the plan to get to the rift and how she could utilize the train there.
‘At least this is a large city.’ Though her destination was on the outskirts. ‘You thought this town would hide us.’ Plenty of murders. Plenty of issues. And yet still the hunters singled out her mother from all of that.
The thought was unpleasant, and certainly, her emotions were boiling despite the composed look on her face as she brushed through her blonde hair, dressed well – black heels, black dress pants, and a simple white button-up. The necklace was hidden under the blouse, and when she exited the room, the sword was taped up with orange, to appear safe. Peacebound.
Mia could break that with a pull, but mortals didn’t need to know that. ‘Still asleep.’ Her eyes moved over Andrew, and she thought to write a note, but decided not to waste any time. He knew she was traveling about, writing articles on the various portals to hell for her ‘grant research’. Perks of being an anthropology grad student working on their dissertation…supposedly.
Obviously, she was writing these things to keep getting the funding. She wrote one that was academic, and more recently, she’d started writing one ‘less academic’, and publishing it with one of those clickbait websites for additional funds, under the name M.Pietus. Halloween was right on the horizon…these kinds of stories were hot. Haunted houses and gates to hell were what everyone wanted to know about.
‘And it’s published now.’ She thought just as she exited the room and went to the elevator, checking her phone to see the e-mail of approval and the promise of funds based on views. It even had a horrible clickbait title about the 7 ways to Hell in the United States, and one of those atrocious lead-ins about a small town in Kansas called Stull - or maybe, it was once Skull. 'It wasn't.' But people liked a story more than they liked truth.
It didn’t even amuse her. She just shoved her phone back in her pocket, and as the elevator dinged that it hit the base floor, she was quick to get out and walk on, ignoring breakfast, and heading out to catch a bus to the train station. ‘Rain….’ Well, that might help things be a bit more packed on a Saturday morning.
It didn’t help with the bus, but once Mia descended into the subway, it was easier to end up pressed against others in the actual train car – once she figured out where she was going. She was too tired to pay attention to much going on around her, and fortunately, so were many others, so it didn’t seem too strange for her to seem to be leaning against her own arm as she held onto railing above her, and sway with the others as the train came to its stops at the various stations.
And each brush with others, each moment she was locked against someone, she made sure to pull at their energy, just a bit. Never enough to kill or exhaust – she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t going to leave a string of dead people around her.
Sure, it showed in ways. Soured moods. Deepened exhaustion. Some would slip into sorrow, and others, a contented sleepiness. Mia was never aware of these things unless the others showed it obviously, and even then, to her it was hard to distinguish the changes energy zapping had on others in the morning, when most were tired, anyways.
So the train ticked on, eventually getting out near the suburbs of the large city, and that was when she finally started taking note of the stops so she knew which one to get off at, to get closer to the hell gate.