Lord Quailius & Tenebrae16

[Tenebrae16]

Astair chuckled, sauntering over to step on the knife blade and keep it pinned to the ground. He ground his foot in to bend and dent the blade, "They don't make knives like they used to.." He sighed our softly, glancing down at the fallen human and letting out a small chuckle seeing his struggle. Just what exactly was this human thinking, reaching for his knife free he had fallen. Astair had expected him to scramble to his feet and take off down the alleyway and had been contemplating whether or not he should give chase. If he let the man live after all, who would believe him when he described the monster in the alley way. Hah, the fun rumors that would start among the young and naive. He was so busy thinking about this, he barely noticed the man reaching for the stake at his side and he would never expect something he had not seen for such a long while. It might trudge up some painful comedic memories though.

He stepped over the man, bending down to inspect him closer, eyes focused on the man'a face and not his stake. In the dim moonlight that filtered lightly through the alley, it would be hard for anyone to recognize their own mother even, but Astair surely could if she wasn't long dead. He reached down to place a claw like finger on the black mask and smiled a crooked grin at the stranger, "Don't you know not showing one's face is also considered impolite?" He rubbed around the wedges of the balaclava and pulled gently at it like a little kid studying something for the very first time. He thought of killing the man now, one quick stab to the stomach with his own knife. He would be doing good to kill a masked fiend wouldn't it? He was once again lost in his thoughts and he stood up and paced over the man, thinking about crushing his skull with his foot.

[Lord Quailius]

Otis watched Astair dent the blade with ease with his bare foot, tensing up a little bit. Damn, I'm not messing with one of the easy ones... Otis grit his teeth tightly in response to his taunts, still staying silent. He tried to move his head away as Astair kept messing around with his balaclava, trying to get a good grip on his stake and trying to keep Astair from figuring out who he really was. That was another problem, if a demon knew what he looked like he could easily get hunted down and killed during the daytime as well. Otis managed to finally get a grip on his stake, and had a firm grasp on it. He was extremely nervous, if he messed up in even the slightest he would be in a whole world of pain, or he would be killed. Probably the latter...

Otis slowly sat up in a semi-fetal position, trying to look like he was getting a breath of air, looking down at the ground in concentration. He shut his eyes to calm himself. Then, in almost an instant, he leaned forward onto his feet, rolling forward-ish, and used every ounce of energy to pounce-tackle Astair, aiming the stake towards his chest. If he couldn't stake him the first time, he could at least catch him by surprise and get a second chance at stabbing him.

[Tenebrae16]

He watched with amusement as the man curled up while sitting, the poor thing must be in shock he mused. Humans were always so fragile, he stood Infront of the man watching him catch his breath. He expected the man would die a slow painful death or maybe a fast one depending on how much of a struggle he put up, it had been a while since he killed anyone or anything. It would be fun to induce a mass murderer rumor around the place and startle people. It was easy to evade the police and any special forces they wanted to employ against him. He had a few tricks up his sleeve after all. He was once again so lost in his thoughts, he could barely react when the man pounced forward. He might have been able to avoid it if he hadn't stopped for a moment to observe and admire the smooth agile almost graceful movement. He hit his head with a thud on the ground, hands wrapping around the stake and stopping it from going right through his chest. Instinct kicked in and adrenaline flowed, memories of the witch hunt coming back to him as he brought his legs up to his chest and kicked the man right in the stomach. He almost crushed the stake in his hand, the wood splintering as he immediately leaped back onto his stance taking a defensive position.

His eyes glowed brightly, green and the other purple in the darkness. He flexed his claws, wings splaying out behind him like an animal trying to appear bigger. An instinct ingrained in him since he was young. He growled low and dangerous at the man, no one carried a stake around. This man wa more than he seemed and despite Astair's childish nature, he took this seriously, knowing it would be death to mess up.

[Lord Quailius]

Otis tried with all of his might to shove the stake through Astair's chest, but couldn't fight against his strength and adrenaline rush. He found himself kicked into the air, the wind knocked out of him, and collided into the wall of the alleyway painfully. His body slumped over as he tried to catch his breath from the force of the kick and the impact of his back against brick. Otis looked up at Astair, noticing his stance and his glowing eyes, and felt a genuine amount of fear. Although he was used to being nervous or maybe just a little bit creeped out or scared, He never got to a point where he had as much fear as he did now. He realized he was truly screwed no matter what he tried. Running? Would probably get caught and killed. Fighting? Fist fights were impossible with demonic beings, as far as he was taught. Otis got onto his feet and got into a defensive stance, holding his arms up as if to block any punches that might have been thrown...

...and then he immediately ran like a madman out of the alley out the way he had come from, away from Astair. Sure, running wouldn't get him far, but the workplace was only what, 3 or 4 blocks away? Maybe he could run that far without getting himself killed. Then he could get better equipment to handle the situation, and then maybe he could continue with what he had been planning, because he sincerely doubted the demon he had just encountered would just sit there and wait for him to come back with shit to shoot it with. Otis concentrated on the steps his feet were making running along the sidewalk. Maybe it wouldn't chase him, maybe it'd just get all pissy and go home to wherever the hell it lived...Otis could only hope for the best as he kept running.

[Tenebrae16]

He lunged forward only to catch air as the man broke into a run, he was glad the stranger wasn't there to see him hit the ground in an attempt to catch him, it would have been certainly very embarrassing. He rubbed the sore spot on his hand and glared in the direction the man was running, a growl escaping his lips as he started to lunge and run after the man. The street was dark enough and it was too late for any person in their right mind to be here. His wings spread out and he was already in the air, gliding more than flying towards the man like some giant eagle with its claws outstretched. This man was no ordinary man, he was what people had called a witch hunter, a hunter and most recently, a slayer. His species had nearly been pushed into extinction because of these slayers and he was not going to let the dark ages start all over again. He raced after the man, almost not recognizing the street they were heading down. The wind was on his side and for a moment he could enjoy the adrenaline and feeling of flying, the estacy that followed through with it.

He loomed upon the man, folding his wings in just to tackle the man to the ground. The sidewalk was rough and scraped faint him and he didn't notice they had entered the light of a street lamp. The city was so unlike the forests and woods and if there were other slayers in town...he was contemplating moving out. "Ahah, did you think you could outrun me?" He snarled in the face of the human as he stared down upon the fallen man. He flexed his claws and licked his lips, ginning and revealing his sharp pointed teeth.

[Lord Quailius]

Otis kept running until he felt Astair dive into his back, making him fall face forward. He couldn't help but curse loudly as he slid across the sidewalk, scraping his right cheek pretty badly through the balaclava and through his flesh, the front of his clothes and armor taking the rest of the pain from his body. When he finally came to a halt, he faintly moaned in pain from his cheek burning excruciatingly and the sudden brightness of being under light after adjusting to the dark, laying his head on its side to try and get a glimpse of Astair, but was having a hard time from the angle that he was trying to look at him at. "Not really, it was worth a shot though..." Otis finally replied quietly in a depressed, almost monotonous tone, taking in a deep sigh of air. He was pretty screwed, he guessed that breaking the rules didn't matter after a lost game. He finally wondered about how this person seemed familiar, racing through the memories of the people he knew to try and figure it out...

[Tenebrae16]

"Heh, how do you want to go?" He asked, calming down from his anger and instinct. He leaned in turning the man over under him so he could see the fear in his eyes. Such strange eyes, so familiar for some reason. He ignored it shaking his he's and grinning down at him. "Maybe a stake through your heart? Would that be irony? Or maybe I'll pick you up and drop you from a hundred feet. All the possibilities. What would you prefer?" He asked coyly, the glow in his eyes dimming slightly as he rubbed the balaclava on the forehead, "It's been a while since I've had a servant, slaves arent so common now a days are they? Would it hurt to start the trend again?" He chuckled, claws pressing against the man's neck.

[Lord Quailius]

Otis looked up at Astair with fear evident in his eyes. The fear was quickly displaced with shock as he instantly recognized his face. He didn't immediately want to connect it with Astair, because it seemed impossible. How could someone he had known for almost a year be a demon, and nonetheless be the demon that was probably going to kill him? It couldn't be him, he didn't look entirely like Astair, but he certainly looked similar. How would he be able to change his eye colors and hide his demonic features? Otis was entirely perplexed by this, swamped with fear, shock, and confusion all at the same time.

Otis examined Astair further as he rattled off a list of the ways he could possibly kill him, noticing that he was shirtless. At first it struck him as faintly odd that someone would be shirtless like this, but at the same time he couldn't help but admire how well-toned his muscles were. He clenched his eyes shut, at first wondering why he would be thinking about how this guy looked and then from the fact that his claws were at his neck. Otis opened his eyes, at first glancing down at the claws and then staring straight into Astair's eyes as he asked, "Astair? Is that you?" He wanted to verify if it were him or not.

[Tenebrae16]

"Or maybe I should-what?" He answered instinctively to the call of his name and them realized his mistake, "Wha-How did you..." He stumbled over his few words, shocked at hearing his own name from the lips of a complete stranger. Was this man a complete stranger? He was fairly certain he hadnt had anything to give his name away and not once had he said it. Staring down into the man's eyes, one of his claws slid up his throat to the edge of the black balaclava an in one swift movement, he yanked it off and his eyes widened as took in the features of the man beneath him. If he hadn't been able to see in the dark, he might have doubted why he saw and brushed it off as coincidence and inbreeding with human, but there was no mistaking the man's rugged features. It was Otis. His mind was screaming at him that this was completely impossible and there was no way the man beneath him now was his co-worker and sort of friend. Simply no way that Otis, sleepy messy Otis could have been the one to almost stake him through the heart. Visibly shocked, he choked out, "Otis?!"

He considered getting off him, but then he was reminded that even if it was Otis, it didn't change the fact that the man had almost killed him tonight. His claws tightened around the man's throat and he growled softly, wings spreading out behind him to block the light of the street lamp. He could do it though, for some reason he couldn't tighten his grip and end the man's life. Nonsense, he was a demon, ssurely this would be easy, ending someone's life, but this was Otis and he found himself unable to do it. Why? He had killed people closer to him before, so why couldn't he do it now? Had he gone soft over the years?

[Lord Quailius]

Otis shut his eyes and looked away as Astair removed his balaclava, then looked back up at his face. He noticed that Astair was just as shocked as he was about their discoveries, and confirmed it when his name was called out in return. "Please, Astair, let me go..." Otis begged. His eyes widened as he felt Astair's claws tighten around his throat. "I'm sorry, I had no idea it was you, just please don't kill me like this...." Otis kept pleading, staring straight into Astair's eyes with fear. He tried to raise his hands up to grab his wrists and push him off, but with weak force. "Please..."