nomorekaraoke: (melancholy baby)
[personal profile] nomorekaraoke
At first, there's barely a sound, barely a speck of color among the shadows of the deceptively old structure. Not anything remarkable about the place, except for its location, perhaps. The air is crisp, the ground is slippery, ice covered in snow covered in more ice. Layers upon layers of white fluff and a concussion just waiting to happen should you forget to watch your step.

He's always liked snow. Especially now, when his eyes are closed and his senses are focused outward; every little snowflake is like a peck on the cheek or the ear or the back of his neck. He remembers the first winter on Earth, he kept imagining the snowflakes were fairies - tiny little darlings dancing in the air only to become it if they ever touched you. Evaporating, melting... It's an end he wouldn't wish on anyone.

Slowly, softly, color seeps into the world, between the cracks. Yellow tones, orange and ochre battling against the dark in an eternal war.

It's beautiful. It gives him hope. The world didn't end tonight. It's just begun anew. Turned a new leaf, if you will.

He opens his eyes, the warmth reflecting in the red of his irises. Maybe today, he can turn a new leaf too. Maybe it isn't too late.

Maybe there's hope for him yet.

Date: 2008-12-21 04:43 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (look aside)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
*
Back at HQ he gets Jonathan to do a quick healing spell for his cut cheek and his ankle, and drinks heavily sugared herbal tea while giving Angel the full report on cleaning out the Ixwal nest, and then falls down across his bed to sleep for nine hours.

Later there's a little down time, and Andrew digs out a demon compendium and starts going through the possible types, narrowing them down.

Date: 2008-12-21 04:34 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (stare)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
Not a chaos demon, not even one with antlers filed down to be able to pass among humans; their protective slime would have frozen in last night's cold, possibly fatally. Not a Lyathfir; they're built small, barely Jonathan's height, with arms long enough to brush the ground. Not a Pylean; they wear their hair long and dress in leather and metal armor and talk like Conan the Barbarian --

Andrew's eyes widen.

Because he's encountered an atypical Pylean demon once before.

"Wolfram and Hart," he whispers to the book. "Angel's friend."

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Lorne

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