temeluchus; lucas harper (temeluchus) wrote in at_the_gates, @ 2011-11-10 16:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | jegudiel, temeluchus |
with my soul straight down out of the world with my fingers holding onto the devil i know.
WHO: Temeluchus and Jegudiel.
WHAT: Demon bumps into angel, otherwise known as one of his oldest associates and rivals from the other side.
WHEN: Recently.
WHERE: In a public park.
STATUS: In-progress.
Say what one will about his unemployed, semi-mortal existence -- and Temeluchus did, truly, consider himself existentially unemployed ever since the ignoble banishment from Hell -- but unfettered leisure time was one of the boons. His time was his own. The hours were steadily consumed by training and tutoring sessions with a slew of Naturals across London, and Market week was always a haze of negotiations and bartering and meetings -- yet the demon always made a point of stopping to smell the metaphorical roses. He sauntered down cobblestoned promenades, literally window-shopping, nose almost pressed against cool glass to stare in at fine confections and leather shoes. He breathed in the crisp autumnal air (almost winter, he noted, seasonal change being another novelty compared to the fire and brimstone Below), and followed the scents of freshly-baked goods, letting his senses carry and drag him throughout London on an aimless hunt. He ran his hands over fabrics. He stopped for snacks. He stopped for an Americano. Distractions littered Temeluchus’ path and it made for a meandering progress, eventually carrying him into a park where he bundled himself up and sat on a bench, content to watch time passing.
Time passed.
The hours carved themselves out of the sky with hollow tolls from a nearby churchtower. He wasn’t cold (this human vessel never grew cold; it always ran a couple degrees too warm), but he foraged for and acquired another cup of coffee regardless. Then a newspaper. His attention didn’t rest on the paper, however; the thing was a set-piece, a required prop for a middle-aged human male installed on a bench with a scarf wound tight around his neck.
But what was meant to be people-watching resulted in a glimmer on his perception. A flash of light.
Temeluchus looked up. The coruscating glimmer seemed to have a weight and heft to it, buoying the area around it; it was like standing on a trampoline when someone else happens to walk on, making the ground tremble. His eyes were caught by the blazing crown on the man’s head and he arched an eyebrow and then -- slowly -- he smiled.
The demon glanced over the crowds, looking for a familiar face that was more of a familiar presence instead: a being which had walked the earth for the same precise number of years he had. It was pretty and blonde these days, but it hadn’t always been. Brother. Sister. Stranger.
Jegudiel.