Thread: Everyone Has Their Demons WHO: Ambriel & Davian WHEN: Shortly after THIS. WHERE: Infirmary
The more and more Ambriel told him not to come, the more and more Davian wanted to. It was just how it worked. When god said no, the devil said yes. When angels went right, demons went left. Even if Davian had never met the Big Man Downstairs and had never heard of any of his kind bumping shoulders with the Son of the Morning, he still didn't outright denounce him. Which only meant of course that he didn't outright denounce the existence of god. Which meant all the ridiculous things Ambriel said, like being a soldier of his Lord, whoever that was, could be actual facts. Davian was not born high in the demon hierarchy. There were secrets he'd never know and that suited him just fine. But when it came to angels, his curiosity and borderline obsession - or straightforward obsession by this point - knew no limits.
That fact that he'd missed Ambriel while locked up in the mines had not been lost on the demon. It confused him, surprised him even, and when Ambriel had appeared out of nowhere to save the day, however spectacularly hard he failed, Davian had felt that same hope rise in him that was foreign and lovely. The same feeling he'd gotten when Ambriel told him his soul could still be saved. That it, he himself, still had some worth. Worth enough for a soldier of some higher being who hated demons to come find him. Sure, Ambriel had been there for others, but it was not Davian misunderstanding or misinterpreting things when he witnessed the angel's smile when he found him in that row of cells.
So, Davian had chewed over it for a few days and after engaging Ambriel on the journals and having a conversation the way they normally did, he'd picked up his gift of OJ from Jae (what the fuck was that girl even thinking?) and headed to the infirmary.
He just wanted to hassle Ambriel some more, he figured. It was amusing and helped pass the time when Ambriel would get so flustered he couldn't even speak - whether they were engaged in sexual activities or not. And now the angel was laid up in bed with a broken arm and probably a concussion, judging by how bad that head injury had looked the last time he saw him.
Davian peeked around the corner of the curtain where the angel was reclined in repose, watching him for a moment and scanning the area to ensure there wasn't anything that could be thrown at him before he stepped in.
"I bet if we cooked you right now you'd be the most tender turkey around." He smirked, circling around the bed and being somewhat wary. Even as much as he'd been around Ambriel, the angel was still volatile and prone to violence when pushed far enough. Davian didn't want to risk getting caught in that vice-like grip. "I didn't bring a Get Well Soon card," he informed, unscrewing the lid of the box of OJ and taking a big gulp. Sweet nectar.