[Closed to Sans] There have been more memories of a human life. It doesn't quite fit, much to Iuliael's disappointment, there are... things aren't right. It's hard to think into very much, but it's bothersome. Anyway, to feel better about things Iuliael puts on a human guise and walks sidewalks in parts of the town where people don't mind, singing Hallelujah. Most songs are Iuliael's favorite while he's singing them, but that's one of the best.
A car full of Anath's demons sees him. They brake and idle, forcing what little traffic there is at this hour to detour. Then three figures leave the car and it continues on its way. These are unremarkable-looking demons, cliche even; nearly human-shaped in well-fitted pinstriped suits, red or blonde curly hair with horns hidden under trillbies, coppery eyes concealed by heavy sunglasses, black tongues behind sharp white teeth. A matched set that's fond of the 20s gangster aesthetic, armed with knuckledusters and thin daggers with an ugly sheen. They creep after Iuliael without making a sound, but they needn't have bothered.
This is not a mindful or observant angel and he doesn't know people are watching him until they're within a few feet, and he doesn't know they're demons until they lay hands and weapons on him. Then he has no thought but to escape, or try to - to run, but there are three of them and they're naturally inclined to near-human form while he isn't. To become a flock of doves, but the demons are fast, they can take advantage of the moment of disorientation and catch or strike enough of the birds that Iuliael can't escape, and now angel blood has been spilled. The street smells nose-stinging and peppery, like incense. No one speaks.
The sunlight's fading and anyone who was out to see the start of this has decided to hide and wait for it to end. Iuliael makes a game effort, flowing and shifting like water or flame, flaring up into a towering vaguely floral mass of wings to startle them, even screaming - and Iuliael has an amazing scream, astonishingly loud continuous, like nothing from a human throat, the kind that seems to make the world throb and shudder. Even hench-demons have to stop to clap hands over their ears. But they came prepared to kill angels and have wounded Iuliael already. Even if he doesn't have to stop to breathe he can barely move while making that noise. They can struggle towards him, human guises slipping, murder on their faces.
[OPEN] After that Iuliael is more careful. It's a little easier to remember or plan things, or so it seems. He tries to stay out of trouble, to actually spot it beforehand and back the heaven away. There's still at least one case of a frantic partial seraphim and a winged imp going on a high speed chase - as Iuliael is probably the least imposing, most defenseless angelic presence around, even low-level hellspawn has a chance of bringing him down alone.
hellp
There have been more memories of a human life. It doesn't quite fit, much to Iuliael's disappointment, there are... things aren't right. It's hard to think into very much, but it's bothersome. Anyway, to feel better about things Iuliael puts on a human guise and walks sidewalks in parts of the town where people don't mind, singing Hallelujah. Most songs are Iuliael's favorite while he's singing them, but that's one of the best.
A car full of Anath's demons sees him. They brake and idle, forcing what little traffic there is at this hour to detour. Then three figures leave the car and it continues on its way. These are unremarkable-looking demons, cliche even; nearly human-shaped in well-fitted pinstriped suits, red or blonde curly hair with horns hidden under trillbies, coppery eyes concealed by heavy sunglasses, black tongues behind sharp white teeth. A matched set that's fond of the 20s gangster aesthetic, armed with knuckledusters and thin daggers with an ugly sheen. They creep after Iuliael without making a sound, but they needn't have bothered.
This is not a mindful or observant angel and he doesn't know people are watching him until they're within a few feet, and he doesn't know they're demons until they lay hands and weapons on him. Then he has no thought but to escape, or try to - to run, but there are three of them and they're naturally inclined to near-human form while he isn't. To become a flock of doves, but the demons are fast, they can take advantage of the moment of disorientation and catch or strike enough of the birds that Iuliael can't escape, and now angel blood has been spilled. The street smells nose-stinging and peppery, like incense. No one speaks.
The sunlight's fading and anyone who was out to see the start of this has decided to hide and wait for it to end. Iuliael makes a game effort, flowing and shifting like water or flame, flaring up into a towering vaguely floral mass of wings to startle them, even screaming - and Iuliael has an amazing scream, astonishingly loud continuous, like nothing from a human throat, the kind that seems to make the world throb and shudder. Even hench-demons have to stop to clap hands over their ears. But they came prepared to kill angels and have wounded Iuliael already. Even if he doesn't have to stop to breathe he can barely move while making that noise. They can struggle towards him, human guises slipping, murder on their faces.
[OPEN]
After that Iuliael is more careful. It's a little easier to remember or plan things, or so it seems. He tries to stay out of trouble, to actually spot it beforehand and back the heaven away. There's still at least one case of a frantic partial seraphim and a winged imp going on a high speed chase - as Iuliael is probably the least imposing, most defenseless angelic presence around, even low-level hellspawn has a chance of bringing him down alone.