✿ the pretty little bird II_
✿ Elenei Kiều_
✿ The First Day, Evening_
The blue demon coughed up phlegm as the pair strolled through the empty sex club-- this floor was little more than a smoky parlor, shrouded in blue velvet curtains and purple lights, circular tables and cushioned booths made navigating the area like a maze. On the far side of the room, opposite the entrance, was a mahogany bar-- Mel swiftly maneuvered through the mass of cushion and tables toward it.
Belwas struggled to keep up, “Besides the usual? Well… Rose had her kid,”
“Why the hell did she end up keeping it?” Using her arms and her momentum, Mel jumped over the bar, landing deftly behind it, where the alcohol resided.
Belwas gave a broad smile, watching the girl perform her simple acrobatics. He leaned against the mahogany with an elbow, “You think I know the shit’s going through that broad’s head?” It was always interesting-- seeing the way she moved, it was graceful, something a little unnerving about it too. He’d describe her as gracefully inhuman-- of course saying that out loud would probably get him an earful. “Probably figures she can trick the rich asshole into paying for it.”
Mel’s fingers brushed along the cool glassy cylinders and went straight for what she wanted-- Hell’s Gate’s Finest-- “I wouldn’t put it past her.” She uncorked the bottle of vodka, letting the aroma of pure gasoline crash into her nostrils.
He watched as she poured the drink into the cocktail shaker, “Vodka martini?”
“Vodka
Martinez.” She poured in the Maraschino, the gin, the bitters, and the vermouth with an undeniably practiced skill. She didn’t even need to look at the labels on the bottles, she recognized them by feel alone. She almost looked like a proper bartender, laughing at Belwas’ jokes, asking about his day, all while eyeing proportions clearly-- were it not for the fact that she was so clearly underaged, she could’ve been-- it was almost as if she’d learned from the bartender themselves.
Of course she had-- she came here every other night.
Belwas eyed the beverage as she gently placed in a curly lemon peel and an olive garnish, “May as well call it a Brown Russian.”
She didn’t respond, instead opting to take a sip, and finally let her day begin. Closing her eyes, she felt the stinging liquid hit her lips--
just a sip-- but she felt it on her tongue. She’d often been told that vodka was a beverage for those who hated themselves.
She was a vodka girl.
Belwas leaned against the bar, facing away from the pretty little bird, his blue gut would be the first sight many would see through the purple haze as the funneled in for the evening. “What are you thinking tonight, kiddo.”
Another sip. She felt a brief lift of her tension-- it was temporary, of course-- she figured angels had naturally high tolerances, probably because ‘God’ didn’t want his servants sinning. More likely it had something to do with the insane metabolism and enzymes or whatever. She didn’t care, all she knew is that she’d need another bottle before she felt a buzz.
In another big gulp, she finished the glass and began preparing another, she didn’t stop with her forward gaze. “I wanna punch something, Belwas.”
“Don’t you always…” He muttered under his breath.
Her glare became sharp, boring into the back of the demon’s neck, “What was that?”
“Nothing, kiddo. Seven hells, you need to drink more of that shit.” He laughed, a slight nervous twinge in his tone.
“I know.” Mel found the demon’s laugh annoying-- it’s wasn’t the accent-- but the way his belly jiggled. He was disgusting, a pure product of sin and debauchery-- he was like a fat cockroach. The interesting thing was that she didn’t think of herself as better than him. She
liked him, even-- yet she was completely repulsed around him. “You’re always doing prize fights, just pencil me in for something.”
The demon coughed up something that seemed to move on it’s own, it was black and looked like a tentacle, he put the pus covered mass back in his maw, and spoke as he chewed, covering the bar in a spray of black tar, “Jesus fuck, Morena,” He wiped spittle from his lips, leaving them dirtier than before, “You know no one wants to fight you.”
“The hell not?”
He turned back around, looking at a watch he wore as a ring around his arm sized thumb, “No one wants to die.”
Mel slammed a hand onto the bar, “Don’t give me that horseshit, Belwas-- there’s always someone.”
He sighed, rubbing the horns on his head like a person with hair. “Well there’s one.”
She perked up, “Who?”
“You know who.”
Mel’s expression became one of soft surprise-- like the face one makes you forgot you had the day off because it was some bank holiday, her lips parted, and her head cocked inquisitively, “It’s seriously that time of the month already?” She asked with suppressed glee.
“Well he’s been asking about you all week,” He wiped away his spray of black spit from the mahogany bar with a filthy rag, “But I figured you wanted a
real fight.”
“Ohh Belwas, how little you know me…” The corner of Elenei’s lip twitched upward however slightly, however sadistically, “I want to see what toys the
angel of death brings for me this time!”
Thanatos.
At least, that was a name he went by. Similar to her and Mel-- or Morena, Joy, Helel, or any of the other nicknames people had labeled the pretty little bird as. His real name-- the full thing-- was unknown to her.
She knew his first name though; Malachias, Mal for short. His last name she didn’t buy--
Mordecai. What the hell was that? Malachias Mordecai? It sounded fake, like he was some kind of superhero or something. Though she supposed that wasn’t
too far from the truth, Mal certainly looked the part of some terrible savior.
While Mel was a chimera, at best a mutated grey angel, with enough corrupted essence to leave her one good wing black-- Mal was an honest to goodness angel, one of the most impressive she’d ever seen. Physically, at least.
He had called himself
Seraph Cherubim before. Whatever that meant-- she figured it was a type of birth defect, she’d seen angels with 4 wings before, anyway. But he had three pairs of wings, each pair larger and more majestic than the last. They were a silver-white, that had a way of glistening with golden-orange fire in any light.
His wings were a wild, divine fury.
He was otherwise a handsome man, very easily fitting into the statuesque image one sees in their head when thinking of a true angel. Muscles rippled beneath tight black clothing, he was taller than most men, and lean enough to be a model.
He had flawless honey-brown skin, an aquiline nose, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He never allowed for any more hair than a scruffy stubble to grow on his face-- it hardly ever noticeable since your eyes were drawn to his mane of hair-- a thick, curly, unkempt mass of hair as white as his wings that glowed with same fiery ferocity, it fell to his shoulders, and was separated by a single, solid band of orange hair that shone with intensity of dawn’s rising sun.
He was easily one of the most beautiful men Mel had ever met-- ever since meeting, she’d had frequently fantasies about sleeping with the man. The regality with which he moved spoke to some inherent poise that made him better than her and everyone she knew, he had the natural charisma of a skilled and gentle lover. He wasn’t like the men who would simply push themselves inside of her and roll over once they were finished. Sex
meant something to him-- everything meant something to a man as intelligent as him.
That fact, and that, based on appearances alone, he was leagues out of her…
league are some of the reasons she’d given up on ever actually pursuing a tryst.
Well that, and the fact that he was her half-brother.
Although, if she was to be honest with herself, he was such an adonis that this didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have, as much as it made her disgusted of herself.
Mal… Thanatos, was like her-- in that he worked for their father, and unlike her, in many ways-- for one, few people knew of his existence. Mel was a brawler, a public figure and an effective body guard to be seen with in public. Her jobs were never far away from the watchful eyes of the media. She could act as a free radical, since she spent most of her time…
not working for her father.
Mal was different-- he did something
else. He was smarter than her by a mile, less blindly violent, more charismatic, he
should have been the public figure-- but he wasn’t. She wasn’t exactly clear on what it was he did, all she knew was that he’d spend weeks working on it at a time, with only a few nights of. Something told her the things he did were… darker.
Her father had at least one other child that she knew of. A succubus operating somewhere in the south. Another gifted fighter-- and another voracious sexual appetite. Mel figured it ran in the family.
Although… Mal only came to
the saint and the sinner lady to see her, to her knowledge. She didn’t take him for chaste… but… in so many ways he was more like their father than she could ever be. But for some reason he didn’t have that hole inside of him. He could go around, building tools, gathering artifacts without worrying about such
‘base’ trivialities.
She supposed it was
that, that made her want to punch him.
...
Belwas shook Mel out of her tangential reverie.
Mel blinked her eyes, “Y-yes?”
“What you black out of something?” He slapped a passing call girl on the ass, “You want me to schedule it for tonight or not?”
Mel paused for a long moment, looking around-- women and men, workers were funneling into the purple haze from a side entrance, getting ready for a night on poles of all kinds. Gripping between her eyebrows she glanced down at the drink in her hands.
Baphomet’s Blood? She looked back to the portly demon, “How much have I been drinking?”
“Enough to make me question whether I really want your protection at all...” He mumbled, “Never mind that though.” He jotted something down on his holoscreen, “The fight? On or off, birdy?”
Mel burped, her eyes half open, “Tell him maybe.” Her eyes shot to the thighs of a brunette entering the establishment, “I’m suddenly, like,
suuuper horny.”
“
*Ugggghhhhh,*” The pained sigh escaped Belwas, as smoke puffed from his nose.
“What do you want from me, man?” Mel shrugged, “I am but a human.”
Belwas simply walked away, shaking his head as if he was allergic to sarcasm. Mel yelled after him, “Tell that nerd that if he wants his ass kicked
again I’ll be here all night!”
Mel downed another shot and a stripper spread her legs before her, upside down on the pole, as if she could cut the purple lights above with her thighs, Mel glanced lazily between the leather and lace, lacking an discernable expression as the hot liquid burned her throat.
Luna. That was her name, Mel nodded to herself. She didn't recognize the woman, but she had told her. She was a brunette with thick thighs-- a chimera of sorts, with small grey wings, nails that became claws, and a two-pronged tail that ended tipped in red. The woman winked at her with pinkish-violet eyes, a smirk revealed her fang. Elenei tilted her head.
She was pretty-- Glancing from the woman to her own wallet, she glanced at her holoscreen. She
supposed the had the credit and the time. Elenei looked back to the olive skinned woman, clearly fishing for a response from her with her sensuous expression. Trailing her finger along her lip as she hung upside with leg and core muscle alone, she revealed a long, two-pronged tongue. Elenei’s eyes softened and widened.
She bit her lip.
Shit. Fine. Yeah-- okay. Whatever
kapuchu
