{mxm} When Angels Lurk {18+}

[Carcass Eyes]

ooc| I have been reviewing the roleplays lately and I am astounded at the quality. People use pictures because they're too lazy to describe their own characters. They actually have character templates. Sorry if I offend you in any way but I think that is somewhat close to pathetic. Take note that I am not talking about all of you, merely some of you. Which, unfortunately, is the larger majority of the roleplaying community.

I am bringing in a new form of roleplaying. There are no character templates. If you want then you can post a picture of your character but it is definately not needed; its a very optional thing. The page takes longer to load with pictures anyway. I shan't be surprised if no body joins this. Something called an introduction will replace the character profile. You can use my one as a guide as to the quality I expect you to have and the quantity of it. |


Rules~
One; No chatspeak in play. Heck, out of character you can speak 1337 for all I care. But it is strictly of the literal English language when in character.
Two; No character profiles.
Three; Introductions must be more than six paragraphs long. The posts can be normal length. No one lining when roleplaying. Heck, no four lining either. I want you to put effort in what you type.
Four; As for the quality, I don't ask for mere literacy. I ask for advanced literacy.
Five; This roleplay is a walk-in. If you don't know what that is, PM me.
Six; Post 'Revelations' before your introduction to show you have read the rules.
Seven; Please understand the meaning of the title. It says 'mxm'. That means this is a Male x Male roleplay. Don't like it? Go away. Don't you dare flame.


ic|
The spider is a curious creature – a secretive, foreboding, small beast. They are artsy, and spin webs of the finest strands of silk, almost invisible, to nest their home. They have many eyes, and their webs are sticky, so that they may perch upon it. A cherub-like face watched a spider shift in the plastic jar, unsure of its new surroundings. Strong, elaborate violet eyes stared with a painful concentration at its every action. The creature seemed to sense this, and moved about, unnerved.

He would rather be an earth scavenger, he thought, than an angel. His wings were no more than irksome weights of feathers, bones, membrane and muscle – he could not fly, and did not plan to learn how. It was an embarrassing feature, in any angel, to be afraid of heights. No one in the Abyss of Light approved of his lingering on earth. He found humans such beautiful species, although. Angels and demons were immortals, and in this, they could not lie, but only be able to twist their words. If demons and immortals were given such a luxury, they would carry it out whenever they could. His race, and the race opposing his, had grown into dangerously deceiving creatures. Yet most humans, he found, did not lie. They often, instead, would tell the truth, and go through the punishment. It confused him – it amazed him. Humans, he thought, were magnificent. They were much nobler than angels.

Often, he shrouded himself, with magic, from the eyes of people, and walked with them among their streets. Only the youngest of children and animals could see him. Souls so youthful, he knew, were fresh from the descent from heaven to earth, and still carried with them some of the eternal wisdom of the River of New. A small baby would wave at him, and he would smile back; the guardian would look in his direction and see him as noting more than air and emptiness. But he was there.

Dusty blonde hair came in tendrils of thick waves over his face against milky white skin, as unblemished as water’s surface and as fresh as the moon is round. His lips were red and thick, with a child’s air. He scratched his chin curiously. A white velvet sheet wrapped itself around his waist and an emblem badge held it together, but otherwise, he was bare. His wings, useless and grey, drooped low, collecting dust from the ground. He chewed on his nail. “Adam, Adam, Adam.” He chanted his own name out loud, almost uncertainly. A spider was perched on his finger, but he barely felt it. Over the years Adam’s liking for the creatures had grown into a morose, morbid love.

“What will I do,” he said. His lean figure was crouched on the very edge of a cliff, looking down onto the snowy sand, and the sea that stretched out from it. The human he had been stalking for months, perhaps years, was standing ankle deep in the water. Adam loved the human as he did the spiders – he felt responsible of them, and to them he felt like a sentinel and a guard. Over years and years of hazing over the human species, he found that this one intrigued him the most.

Years, Adam reminded himself. The human was a young man now, and Adam had watched over him every since the age of eight, when he had been a small boy. Adam had seen the human throughout everything. At times, he interfered, but never enough to be noticed. He had seen him at best and worse, in bravery and in tears, in happiness and deplorable sadness, in struggling and in loneliness. He knew the human’s face better than the human knew his own. He had been there to calm him in nightmares, and been there even when everyone else was not. Sometimes he communicated to him – perhaps a sweet breath in the wing, but nothing more.

Now, he thought about showing himself to him.

It was a risk, but Adam trusted the human. He jumped off the cliff, and flared out his wings to steady his fall. His feathers rustled in the wind – strong, potent. It threaded fingers through his hair. The beach was completely deserted. Seagulls flitted through the sky with a lagging sense of ennui. Only the birds and the sea would witness their meeting.

Dubious, Adam took hesitant and circumspect steps towards the human until he was directly behind. He swallowed, flexing the muscles in his back, and then swept his fingers over the human’s face. In that moment, he had unmasked himself. He would know Adam was there. The angle took hold of the human’s hand: a touch of soft and grip so gentle that it was barely noticeable. He sighed contently and stepped forward so he stood beside him.

“I have been waiting for this moment for years,” he said, his face set calmly on the sea. Adam too, now, stood ankle deep in water. The atmosphere was salty. “Have you known that I’ve always been there?” He realised the strength of his words, and wished to take them back. Adam checked, but God was not watching. God had his mind on something else. As an angel, and knowing of heaven’s secrets, he was aware that most things humans believed in Christianity were not true. God could not see everything, neither did he know everything. He did not work on forever; at times he rested, and this is when havoc is made. |

[Summoner Yuna]

ooc = -glomps- 'Allo, love! I'll be joining this ... maybe. I kind went away from this place, came back, went away, and came back again. -sweatdrop- Must hurt people's heads, I'll bet. Well ... Imma going to join, okay, love? =

-Revelations-


ic =
"Lucian sometimes I wonder how get yourself out of these scrapes." The woman's voice was full of exasperation as she wiped the mud off the young boys face.

The eight year old giggled and looked up at his mother. Joy and innocence shining from his golden eyes. He knew he had been bad and should not have gone playing in the swamps. But he was almost reckless. A care free spirit. As care free as the short raven locks that were now weighed down with mud and slime.

"My Guardian Angel momma," the boy whispered as if it was a secret.

The woman tutted but couldn't help a smile. "I am sure you are right my piccolo diavolo. Now off to the bath with you," she pushed him gently and shook her head when he took off running.

The young man took a deep breath of the salty air, bare feet leaving behind their impressions as he walked. So many memories. So many things that happened over the years to mold and shape him. Yet always it was if someone was there with him. Someone he could perhaps depend upon. The imaginings of youth perhaps?

The pain was a myriad of emotions. Swirling and sucking him deeper into a black vortex. He could hear sirens in the distance. Muted voices around him.

"Their dead..."
"No saving them ... how he survived..."
"A miracle ... can't explain ... thrown free..."
"He'll make it ... so sad ... young..."
"Must have ... guardian angel..."

He had woken in the hospital. Hooked up to machines. A frightened and scared thirteen year old. It took him months to recover and even longer to get over his family's death. But always someone was there. A presence felt if not seen. A cool hand on his brow when he was shaken with nightmares. A breath of honey suckle on the wind in the dead of winter. Landscape barren.

His golden irises lifted as he studied the heavens. Perhaps questioning all that had gone on his life. Had somehow made him stronger. He didn't fall for someone was always holding his hand. Unexplained to the man and perhaps he didn't need it. His gaze lazily followed the swoop of the gulls as they frolicked in the air, showing off it would seem.

"Jacob Rymer..... Harold Santon.... Henrietta Semore.... Lucius Sheridan..."

He had stepped forward in the customary black gown and hat, shook the mans hand and accepted his diploma. It was a bitter sweet time as he bravely faced the world stretched out before him. He felt his parents loss most of all that fateful day. Yet, he wasn't alone. He tossed his hat with the rest of the graduating student body. And when he found it in the mess the tassel was gone. Vivid imagination of an eighteen year old ... perhaps ... his guardian angel?

A quiet sigh passed Lucius' full lips and he turned wading into he cool surf and letting it wash over his feet. He was lightly tanned, more olive skinned than anything and he tipped his head back allowing his shoulder length dark hair to blow about behind him. He slid elegant hands into the pocket of his worn jeans, the cuffs rolled up, the material showing his slender form. Much like the gray shirt he wore, clinging yet not vulgar. He didn't need to be for his delicate yet strong features were enough to draw notice.

Where was he to go from here? What did life offer? He had no answer to those questions as thick lashes closed to hide his thoughts from the world. One hand slipped free and brushed a stray tendril away from where it whipped across his lips then dropped to his side.

Perhaps he should have been surprised but the fleeting touch to his cheek seemed so achingly familiar he wasn't startled. Nor by the soft hand in his. Had he held those slender fingers before? Perhaps. It all seemed so unreal. Slowly his eyes opened and a smile curved his lips and he turned his head and beheld the face he knew he had seen in his dreams.

"Always mio angelo," his voice was husky and laced lightly with an Italian accent that bespoke his heritage. "Always..." =

[Carcass Eyes]

ooc| O.O; Someone actually joined? Crap, thats a first. Well, thankyou. |


ic|
The sea was a woman, Adam knew, for he had met her before. She had a sense of tranquility, held down by the chains that beckoned her into folds of calmness and fecility. Often she was kind, but when God turned his back, she would become ravenous, eating and swallowing. This was when lightning struck, and ships sunk into her depths, to the sandy floor, in an algid watery grave.

It was calm enough now.

Adam was slightly jostled by the sudden-ness of words, and squeezed the human's hand slightly, with a spiriting comfort. His wings were dipped into the sea, the tips of the falcon-familiar feathers wet with salt and water. "You have?" he echoed, and thought about looking at the human, but decided against it. The sky was tinged slightly dark, and stars spangled faintly. "I had always hoped you would. Fear kept me away from showing myself: it is demoralised for the middle world to meet of any of the above or the below."

He thought this moment vigorously ambrosial – at a loss of words, he let the silence speak for him. Words could be spoken, he knew, like music in the distance. One did not need to hear it, physically, to understand it. Adam let out a rattled sigh. "I have loved you for long, ever since your age of youth. Ever since you were eight, I've been the third hand, furtive. Did you know?" |

[Summoner Yuna]

And fate was also a woman. Fickle in her ways. Playing tricks on the mortals. When something seemed set in stone it was always changed and rearranged. Nothing was ever a constant. Like the tide that swirled about their feet it was ever changing.

"Si," he whispered allowing his gaze to roam. To take in every detail. Perhaps so he would have it for later. For how long could this last? How long did he have? "I have known," he murmured a light smile curving his lips.

"I should have died many times over. But I felt you by my side," his lips curved into a smile as he moved closer. Needing perhaps, the connection of it all. " L'amo mio angelo... always," he whispered and dared lift a hand to brush lightly down his cheek.

[Carcass Eyes]

Holy: great honour or distiction; renown. A highly praiseworthy asset. Adoration and praise offered in worship. Majestic beauty. To rejoice triumphantly; exult. That was the only way Adam could have described how he felt, if any. Adam, he thought, echoeing his own name in his head. It meant the red of the earth. Perhaps if so, was earth where he was meant to be?

He was grapling in the air; searching for words he could not say, or some way to distinct himself. He was, he found, at a loss for words. Tardily, Adam cast upon Lucian a side-ways glance and flourished his hand, and then, hanging idly and mysteriously from his two fingers, as if a secret, was the tassel of which he had taken on the day of the human's graduation. It seemed not long ago, that that had happened. Humans aged so quickly.

"Do you remember that day?" he asked. The wind ruffled through its threads. "I was so proud of you." Adam flipped the tassel of the hat up, so it rested on his palm, and he held it out to Lucian. "You missed your parents." Not a question, but a statement: he knew just as well. "I've come to help you, now, that I've shown myself ... what will you do with the rest of your life?" He had played the moment of their confrontation many times in his head, yet he still could not get it right. But ...

Whatever it was; even at their close distance Adam wanted to be closer. He found himself longing for the first time.

[Summoner Yuna]

Golden irises were trained upon his angel's face. So many things to say. To do and yet so little time to do them in. It did not seem fair, in a way, that this should happen now. What kind of promises this held.

His gaze dropped to the tassle and he smiled softly. "I remember. And I did. But I felt you there. Knew I wasn't alone." He turned and took a step closer his breath catching at the beauty before him and somehow he felt unworty just to be looking. How could he dare to touch something so pure?

He reached out and placed his hand over the tassle, not taking it but holding it with him. "I do not know. College I suppose. Perhaps take up art. Writing. My future seems so hazy." He shook his head softly. "So long... " he squeezed the hand he held and found himself drawn forward until with a quite sigh he rested his head on the angel's chest, tears trembling on his lashes. It seemed a dream that he would awake from. Like so many others except this one was more real.

[Carcass Eyes]

Tears were expression of emotion, capable of meaning so many things. He had seen humans cry countless times. He knew that both malign and benign sides of immortality could feel, so why was it that they did not cry? Recollection of memory, Adam knew, was not something that was granted upon either a demon or an angel. Wence reaching their eternally destined place, they remembered nothing of their life: it would be too painful.

'I promise,' he said quietly, unsure with himself. He listened to his voice carefully, then in a louder voice. 'This will not be like touching a tiger's face in the dark.' They would take him away, he knew. Alternate realms never intertwined. It was forbidden; like how Adam and Eve had eaten the apple from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. They lost their advantage of the beautiful place. Would they remove his wings, if this happened: his eternal life?

Actions came fluidly: he knew not of what he was doing. It was like a craving, a hunger, to have the human as close to him as possible. He locked Lucian in his arms, felt the stringy ribs pressed against his chest. 'He'll take me away,' Adam hissed poisonously. 'I won't let him. I won't.'