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Samandriel is broken ([info]ofimagination) wrote in [info]childofeden_rp,
@ 2014-05-16 20:44:00

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Entry tags:character: clint barton, character: samandriel, location: mitchell house, |week: 14

WHO: Samandriel & Clint
WHEN: Week 14, Friday, late morning-early afternoon
WHERE: Mitchell's
WHY: Samandriel needs to prepare for his time with Carrick and the only person he remotely trusts to be capable and frank with him is his sister's demon.
WARNING: Will update as needed!



The only people who knew his plan were Mitchell and Carrick, and the only one who knew the whole of it was Samandriel himself. He would keep it that way until everything fell into place, until all the pieces on the board were exactly where they needed to be for him to sit back and smugly declare checkmate to no one at all.

There was a problem, of course, and that had so much to do with the fact that Carrick was right. Samandriel had never experienced the kind of pain that the vampire intended to give him. He had some idea of what he was going up against. After all, he'd had combat training, knew how to take injuries to various degrees of severity without making a sound. There were differences in what a human body could handle versus an angelic one, but those differences were fairly equal to what an angel could dole out to another angel.

He wouldn't involve his sister at all in this. Her temper was legendary, and she'd probably just try to work out a way to do this without Samandriel having to be with Carrick at all. The young angel, for his part, wanted Carrick thinking he'd won only to completely pull that out from underneath him. It'd be a messy victory, but it'd be worth it.

The only other being he knew who could speak like that was the demon his sister was attached to. The one good thing about demons was that they lied. He hoped that if he divulged some of his plan to Clint that he might do him the courtesy of keeping it from his sister. He did, after all, know of the cunning and strength of angels. Clint might be inclined to trust him or at least trust him to make his own decisions, which was more than his sister was prone to.

So he texted the demon, invited him over because he needed his assistance with a particular problem. He didn't think Clint would refuse him, but the demon was distant and terse, hard to read without the benefit of the very Grace he was so close to getting back. He wasn't sure the man was going to show right up until the knock came at the door at the appointed time.

The lowered gaze and formality with which Samandriel answered the door was more out of respect for Clint and the uneasy footing they were on with each other than it was him attempting to practice being 'good' for Carrick. He had no intention of doing anything but giving that particular vampire the fight he'd clearly come to expect.

"Master Barton," he said, stepping aside to let the man in, let those keen eyes scan the room to ensure that this wasn't a trap if he so wished.



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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-17 02:10 am UTC (link)
"Samandriel," the demon replied, politely, his expression openly curious. His hands were behind his back as he entered the house. He'd been inside it before, but the text message had indicated he should come alone, which was surprising to say the least. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what the angel could want with him alone, but he was keen to find out.

"Your Master is not at home?" he inquired, once inside, his gaze settling on the young man.

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-17 02:19 am UTC (link)
Samandriel shut the door behind the demon and shifted into as easy a stance as he could. "No, sir," he said, finding it no trouble at all to speak to Clint with that kind of respect when he had to bite it out for a certain ancient vampire.

"He's off...helping." Or trying to. Mitchell volunteering seemed to result in more frustration than actual help for anyone involved. His master tried. It was good. "I thought it best if we spoke alone anyway." Or did more than that, depending on the demon's mood and willingness to help the angel out. "Would you like anything to drink?"

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-17 02:30 am UTC (link)
Clint smirked, though there was no malice behind it. Really, his entire demeanor was casual, and curious. Open. He had no intention of hurting Samandriel, or even scaring him, really. That wasn't what got him off.

"That depends," he began, his eyes flicking over the boy's form. "Are you going to ask me to do something that will make me thirsty?"

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-17 02:42 am UTC (link)
Samandriel licked his lips, finding himself responding far too well to being checked out by a demon.

"It's entirely possible," he said, taking a steadying breath.

"I've put myself on a path to get my Grace back, but I need to prepare for what's coming to me mentally if not physically." Clint had to be able to see the wrongness of an angel in a purely human body. He loved one in his own way after all. An angel, not a graceless one. "And I need you to not tell my sister any of this until after this either works or falls apart." He tipped his head up to look at the demon, trying to make himself look stronger than his form let on. "Will you help me? Please, Master Barton?"

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-17 02:55 am UTC (link)
Clint had listened, patiently, while Samandriel spoke, but when he finished he still didn't know what the human-bound angel wanted him to do--other than not tell Natasha. Whether he would tell Tasha or not depending on the boy's answer to a few questions.

"You've gotten yourself in deep with that vampire, haven't you?" he guessed. "Not your Master. The one who hurt you."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-17 03:11 am UTC (link)
"I have," Samandriel said softly. "The contract's been drawn up and combed over several times to make this as...painless as possible." He licked his lips and went to go get a glass of water for himself.

"I have a plan." He took a drink of his water, keeping himself open and casual as he looked at the demon. "You're the only being I can remotely trust who has experience in the sort of things he's likely to do to me. I don't...I'm not asking you to do them. I won't stop you, but that's not what I'm asking of you. You're free to touch me as gently or roughly as you like or not at all," not that a Master needed permission to do anything of course, but consent always helped.

"And if it's all the same to you, Master Barton, I'd...I'd rather be able to pin my thoughts on someone else while he's whipping me. I know he wants me desperate and begging and I'm only going to truly succeed at that if I can close my eyes and picture someone I have no interest in smiting, if I can focus through the pain on the sound of a voice I might perhaps one day care about as more than just an extension of my sister in a way. If I'm going to survive this, I need help and I have absolutely no one else to turn to."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-17 03:36 am UTC (link)
Clint reached for the boy's glass of water because, well, he needed it.

"You expect him to torture you," the demon said, flatly, once he'd taken a sip. So that was why he'd been summoned. Except something wasn't quite clicking. He tilted his head, considering, and then he understood. Natasha must have shared what their relationship was like, that it wasn't just...straightforward. "No, that's not it. If this Carrick is so eager to have you, it won't be just pain. You want to know what it is to take pain...and want it."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-17 03:50 am UTC (link)
Samandriel lowered his gaze and nodded. "I know how to take pain," he said quietly. "I've been trained for that, but if I fall back on my training and shut myself off to silence, to disconnect from what's happening to me... It's only going to make it that much worse." Demons knew what they were doing, had a reputation for such things. With the right weapon in his hand, Samandriel had no doubt that Clint could break through that training and have him screaming in true pain, writhing in agony.

"If that happens... I don't want to be the broken shell of an angel that might result. I don't want Mitchell blaming himself for it and I don't want my sister risking so very much just so she can burn a vampire and anything that happens to be nearby to the ground." Whether or not demons loved was irrelevant. Clint clearly cared about his sister, and that had to be enough for him to at least attempt to protect her from herself.

He slipped gracefully to his knees, even now clearly more peacemaker than he'd ever been suited to being a soldier. Head bowed, he whispered, "Please, Master. Let it be you." A vampire couldn't do to him nearly what a demon could, and truly, Samandriel didn't need the pain. He was still Imagination. He could take gentle touches and whispered instructions and weave them into so much more in his own mind. Even softer, nearing desperate he said again, "Please."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-17 11:06 pm UTC (link)
It had been a long time since Clint had been human, but he wasn't sure he'd ever not been accustomed to pain. There had been times when he hadn't been in pain, but those were temporary respites. Maybe it had been then, as a needy, reedy teenager, little older than Samandriel's vessel, that whatever it was that made people normal--made them not like Clint--had been broken. He'd stopped fighting it, stopped enduring it, but instead came to view the rush as an old friend, and no more than he deserved.

If the angel wanted to know, the demon had no reason not to tell him. He wasn't embarrassed by it, and if it did some good...why not?

"Get up," he barked, hiding his discomfort at the angel, prone at his feet, behind boredom. "You know what demons are, boy. We're Hell's bitches. Your deference is unnecessarily. But since you asked so nicely...." he shrugged. "Why not. You want to know what makes someone desire pain? Where should we start? Before or after my years on the rack?"

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-17 11:20 pm UTC (link)
Samandriel stood with all the strength and conviction of a being who had his Grace back already. "As long as there's a collar around my neck and not yours, my deference is absolutely necessary." He looked at Clint, walking away from him to sit on the loveseat in Mitchell's small living room. "Where would you like to start, sir?" he asked. "Heaven isn't much better than Hell when it comes to pain. We fear it. You embrace it. Start where you like, Master."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-17 11:31 pm UTC (link)
Clint paced the small space and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"Master," he repeated, derisively, though it was directed at himself, not at the boy.

"You know my story?" he asked. "You have angelic memory, I presume. You know who I am. Who I was, before becoming...this?"

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-17 11:47 pm UTC (link)
Samandriel averted his gaze even as Clint spoke to him. "I have angelic memory, yes, but without the ability to see your true face, I don't know who you were before. I don't know if you were supposed to be under my protection or one of my brothers' or what. I can't see, Master. Not like I should." He took a breath and looked up at Clint. "You were human once, that much is a safe bet, though you could have been a witch at some point. More than that? I can't guess comfortably. You could have spent centuries in Hell, it could have been millennia."

It was clear that without his Grace, Samandriel could only infer so much. "Will you tell me?"

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 12:29 am UTC (link)
The demon nodded, satisfied by the blond's response. Even more surprising was his desire to tell the tale, to lay it all out. He'd only done that once before, with Natasha.

He pursed his lips again and pulled out a wooden chair from the kitchen table, turning it around before he straddled it.

"You got anything harder than water to drink?" he asked. "This story will require alcohol, probably for both of us."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 12:38 am UTC (link)
"As you will, sir," Samandriel said, getting up to pour drinks for them both. He came back with two glasses of whisky, neat and set the bottle down within easy reach so he could pour more when it was required.

"When you're finished, Master Barton, if you'd like to hear my story..." It seemed fair. If Clint was going to open old wounds, the gesture was what he could do. An angel and a demon might not be likely friends, but stranger things had happened.

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 01:11 am UTC (link)
The demon threw back a mouthful, relishing the burn, and the corner of his mouth twitched at the offer. Swapping stories with an angel? Wouldn't be the first time.

"I was born human, before all this...civilization. There were still places where humans were free, where there was little more to do than eat, and work the land, and fuck." He took another swallow, then licked the remainder from his lips. "My mother died in childbirth, my father took to drink, and my younger brother and I were the targets of his grief. I protected him as best I could. Took the beatings, and the rest of it, reluctantly at first, but it wasn't very long before pleasing my tormentor became pleasing for me. Perhaps if my father had been different I wouldn't have come to seek it out, if only to spare my brother. If I goaded him, I was in control, and there was very little I was in control of at the time."

He glanced over at the angel, with an expression akin to camaraderie. "Something tells me you know that feeling all too well, now."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 01:14 am UTC (link)
Samandriel held the glass in his hand, waiting for the time he would be ready to drink it, the time he really needed it. He didn't have the best alcohol tolerance, something Mitchell learned rather quickly.

"Yeah," he said quietly, dropping the honorifics if they were going to speak almost as equals. "Though for me that control's more in silence than seeking anything out."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 07:16 pm UTC (link)
Clint grimaced and took another sip. "It's different when you have someone to protect," he said, quietly. "You learn to make yourself the target, whatever it takes." He pulled himself out of his thoughts and shook his head. "My soul seemed a small price to pay for ten years of peace. But I didn't count on the fact that I had been forever changed. That I would miss the bruises."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 07:18 pm UTC (link)
Samandriel looked down at his glass and listened to Clint speak. He didn't understand, not completely. Perhaps at some point, he might, but now...Now it was all so foreign that he couldn't grasp it.

"So Hell was a relief in a way, at least at first. A homecoming almost."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 07:25 pm UTC (link)
"Something I knew, anyway," the demon agreed. "Though still worse than anything I had imagined. I learned quickly that while I was willing to take whatever pain they gave me, needed it, even, that there was little I wouldn't do to avoid inflicting it on others." He reached for the bottle, refilling his glass.

"Though I did, of course." That was the thing about Hell. They found a weakness, and they twisted it. Clint downed another swallow, regarded Samandriel with a knowing expression. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how you are capable of doing what you could never imagine, given the right circumstances."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 07:58 pm UTC (link)
Samandriel looked up at Clint. "Imagination isn't just for art, sir. It's not just for making beauty. I am a weapon, have always been." He looked down again, thinking on what Clint had to say.

"Who was supposed to be protecting you?" he whispered. "All those years ago. Who failed you? Your brother." He looked up again. "Who were you who was left behind by those meant to abhor suffering?" They didn't, of course, not completely. Samandriel knew that as well as any. Heaven was corrupt, dangerous. It had long ago lost sight of its mission to focus on power and distance instead of people.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't his fault. He had been doing his best as long as he could, but someone needed to apologise, someone with power like he had once, like he would have again, needed to acknowledge that human beings were no less than those who enslaved them.

Abruptly, he lifted his head, something clicking into place. This demon. His sister. The position he was in... Had it all truly been part of the plan? Was this what he was supposed to be doing? A masterpiece playing out in perfect order?

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 08:19 pm UTC (link)
Clint raised an eyebrow as the angel seemed to have some sort of epiphany. None of his business, maybe, but it was interesting to note.

"It's not on you, angel," he replied, since the apology begged some sort of response. "I no more blame you than blame Natasha.

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 08:23 pm UTC (link)
"Thank you," he said quietly, returning to study of his drink. "Please continue, master."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 08:32 pm UTC (link)
Clint shrugged. "Not much more to tell. The way I am...what I enjoy...it was determined long ago. Centuries ago. I accept it now, and Natasha is...understanding enough to give me what I need. From her, it's not a punishment. It's penance. It's redemption."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 08:48 pm UTC (link)
Clint didn't give him much, but it might be enough. "There is nothing like that coming for me," he said finally. "A hard road that I may or may not be able to use my clever tongue to make easier than it might've been otherwise."

He looked over at the demon. "We guard the souls in Heaven," he said, looking at the demon like he might well have been a brother he'd never met. "We have forgotten how to guard each other."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 09:14 pm UTC (link)
The corner of Clint's mouth twitched. "Sounds like penance to me," he replied. "But perhaps your redemption will come from another source," he added, meaning his other vampire.

He finished the last swallow and sat back, setting the glass down on the table, where he wouldn't be tempted by it. "I've often wondered why Natasha stays. We're part of an organization, you know. It calls itself S.H.I.E.L.D.. It stands for Supernatural-Human Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. A kind of...humane society, but one that operates outside of the law."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 09:33 pm UTC (link)
Samandriel finally took a drink from his glass. "When I have my wings back," he said softly, "if you have want of them..." The young angel looked up with a kind of darkness and conviction that made it plain how related he and Natasha were. "I intend to keep my collar, but that might make me even more useful to your cause."

Another sip of his drink. "We don't talk about the Fall," he said quietly. "Talking about the Fall can be taken as...regretting the Fall, as mourning the loss of those we perhaps should not, that in mourning our brothers somehow excuses what happens as though forgiveness is not what we should strive for."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-18 11:10 pm UTC (link)
Clint acknowledged the offer with a slight nod of his head. Even if Samandriel hadn't been an angel, he was certain the vampire would be amenable to whatever his slave wanted to do. They were, it seemed, devoted to each other.

"Maybe you should," the demon replied, companionably. "Neither of you are exactly on Heaven's good side. What harm could that do?"

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-18 11:44 pm UTC (link)
The young angel tucked his legs under him, watching the amber liquid swirl in his glass.

"And God saw everything that He had made, and, behold it was good," he said softly. "For a while, it was good. Siblings fight. There's nothing for it. They bicker and argue, but most of the time they do love each other and they forgive." Samandriel took a breath, letting the weight of things settle over him. "Lucifer... Lucifer was beautiful. One of the First. The archangels and then all the rest of us. He was an artist, a musician really, but he did other things as well. I was quite literally made for him, made to sit at his right hand and be as a muse, to paint the skies and laugh with him. And he rebelled. I wasn't there when the fight that kicked it all off happened. I know it'd been building for a while, but that's Lucifer and Michael for you. Two brothers who love each other and love fighting each other more."

He cleared his throat. "The fighting was awful. Heaven tearing itself apart in smoke and blood and ash. Brother against brother and..and critical eyes on me like I might be the next to turn. I'd never used my position for combat, never imagined how I might harm or kill anyone. I suppose if Lucifer had consulted me, he might've won. That whole time, centuries after the Fall, perhaps longer I was trying so very hard to stay alive, to prove myself loyal to Heaven's mission, to my superiors. But every time I was alone, or had a moment of quiet to breathe, all I could see were a thousand thousand different nightmares. All the ways things could go even worse than they were, all the ways our family could continue to pull itself apart." Another long sip of his drink.

"Loyalty," he whispered, a bitter laugh breezing past his lips. "Like being loyal didn't mean sticking together and working things out somehow, listening." Samandriel looked at the art on the wall, an abstract piece that looked so much like fire and blood and pain no matter how beautiful it was that he hadn't been able to bring himself to give Mitchell the reasons behind. "I never stopped loving him. He's my big brother. He taught me...he taught me so much. He taught me to fly, to sing and paint and make such music and he was never anything but gentle and kind with me, understanding, encouraging. A lot like Mitchell is to me, actually." Lucifer was different to others, of course, but Samandriel had known he was special. Valued. Irreplaceable. Losing him tore something out of me, something I will never, ever get back."

He looked over at Clint, eyes wet with tears he was refusing to shed and unwilling to ask for sympathy for. "Maybe my own fall has been long, long overdue."

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-19 10:05 pm UTC (link)
Being a demon, of course, Clint had a different perspective on who Lucifer was and what he meant, but those opinions he kept to himself. It would serve no one to tarnish the memory of Samandriel's beloved brother, and that wasn't the issue at present, in any case.

"The fault's not in you, angel," the demon drawled, tiredly. "It's the system that's broken."

He got up from the kitchen chair and moved to sit next to the angel, patting his shoulder in an awkward attempt to be comforting. "Sometimes, bad things happen to good people," he added, quietly.

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-20 12:27 am UTC (link)
Samandriel was well used to the act of receiving comfort. Clint might've been awkward, but the young angel wasn't, curling up to nestle against Clint's side almost as if the demon was the elder brother he'd lost so long ago.

"Sometimes good people don't feel so good," he said softer, making himself perfectly at home right there for as long as the other man would allow it.

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-20 01:08 am UTC (link)
Well, this part Clint was familiar with.

He sighed and let Samandriel settle against him, his arm curling around the slender form as he made himself comfortable on the couch, resigning himself to a long cuddle. "It'll pass. Especially when you really are a good person." Not like himself.

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-20 01:17 am UTC (link)
"I hope you're right," he whispered, nose against Clint's chest as he gave in to the warmth of an embrace that some part of him knew a demon had no right to be able to give. "I'm glad she has you. She needs someone to temper her fire." And Clint was clearly someone who could do that and still be fine for it.

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-20 01:23 am UTC (link)
Clint huffed a laugh at that, smiling as the boy tucked his face against the demon's chest. He rested his chin lightly on the top of his head, arm around his shoulders, thumb lightly stroking. "I like to think I can rein her in, but no one can, really. I just try to present options that don't include smiting."

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[info]ofimagination
2014-05-20 01:31 am UTC (link)
"Being able to get through enough to try is far more than most can even begin to manage," he murmured, already half asleep as he spoke and drifting off the rest of the way while Clint seemed to mind less and less that he was there against him. Hopefully, they'd stay friends when Samandriel could see everything he couldn't now. The angel was pretty sure they would.

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[info]demonarcher
2014-05-20 01:44 am UTC (link)
Clint hummed noncommittally. Maybe the little angel was right.

He hoped the boy's Master was understanding that the cuddle was not sex. It wasn't even really about friendship. It was the comfort that a brother-in-arms might offer another before they went into battle.

"Rest, little angel," he said softly. "It'll all be over soon enough. And then you and Nat can go on a smiting spree together."

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