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Description
Tap, tap, tap.
The figure walked slowly, casually, towards the man in the suit. His feet clicking against the ground. The structure of his body was thin, and stooped over, shrugging against it’s own weight in an almost elderly fashion. Silky red and black strands of hair hung down to his shoulders, brushing against the base of his neck and the leather jacket that wrapped around it. Both hands were wrapped around behind him, seeming to conceal a hidden package. Maybe a prize, or a gun. His legs, clad in black shining leather and silver gleaming buckles, pushed aside the mist that clung to the ground. As he walked past, the mist did not pull itself inward to regain the space it had lost. It was as if the mist thought the ground that had been stepped on was sacred -- or maybe it was scared of it. His eyes watched the space where he set his feet, and nothing more. Devoid of emotion, purpose, even life itself seemed drained from the way he looked at the world.
Tap, tap, tap.
The man in the suit blinked, and the image of the other man twisted. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, covered with plaster white that pulsed with red veins. Three sets of horns sprouted on his temples, behind his ears, and on the top of his head. Golden piercing hung everywhere on his face, and chains of gold and gems wrapped around his waist and wrists and ankles. His skin was white and pure. Flawless and androgynous. He was a demon of lothlorien, pure and immortal. From his back hung a set of fragile wings. Silky and neon, like a raving fairy. But they were trashed, torn. A ravaged butterfly.
Tap, tap, tap.
No longer than a blink of the man in the suit’s eye, and he looked as he had before, black leather and purposeless soul. “What the fuck are you?” The man in the suit growled. The other man’s shoes tapped at the ground, the same unwavering pace. “Fucking answer me!” The other man brought his arms to his face, feeding a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it. He dragged at the stick until it was half wasted, and never blew out the smoke.
Tap, tap, tap.
The other man stopped, just close enough to smell the man in the suit’s breath. He finished off the stick with another long drag, this time blowing the smoke into the man in the suit’s eyes. He sat and did nothing. Watched the man in the suit. Cool and calm enough that he seemed not even to breathe.
The man in the suit spat at the ground between them, and sneered at the other man. “Get the fuck away from me.”
The other man began to circle the man in the suit, as if inspecting and critiquing the way he stood. He trailed a finger behind the man in the suit’s right ear, “You forgot to wash behind your ears.” His voice was flute-like, comparable to silk, but it was nowhere near soothing.
The man in the suit slapped his hand away. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”
“Now that’s not the correct question, and you know it isn’t.” The other man laughed smoothly.
The man in the suit twisted sharply and jabbed a finger into the air in front of the other man’s face. “You shut the fuck up and answer my questions.” The other man’s lips twisted in a sardonic grin. Shaded ivy green in his eyes twisting into pits of loathing and malicious intent. The man in the suit moved his mouth, working against the other mans eyes, “You back the fuck away from me.”
The other man brought his head close to the man in the suit’s ear, his lips brushing the lobes as he talked. “Do you, truly, not know why I have come for you?“ The man in the suit shoved him away, stumbling backwards as he did. The other man brought himself to his full height, seeming to lengthen like elastic into a looming shadow. He shouted now, a broken harmony of song-like threats. “Were you that eager to forget?”
“Get back! Get back or I swear…” The man in the suit frantically racked his mind for the words.
The other man screamed now. “You’ll WHAT? You’ll BEAT me like your daughter? Rape me like your WHORES?” The other man twisted again into a demon, a blazing vision of grandeur and holy rage. The man in the suit tried to shove past him, and was thrown backwards into a brick wall, and the other became human again.
The other man spoke in a whisper. “Sinner. Did you forget this?” From his coat he pulled a small picture. The man in the suit winced and squirmed against the other man’s grip.
“Leave me alone,” he pleaded, “You don’t want me.”
The other man cooed, “oh ,but I do want you. As does my father. And I can send you to him. I can give you salvation.”
The man in the suit looked into the other man’s eyes helplessly, but immediately turned away. “I don’t need your salvation.”
The man in the suit felt himself forced to his knees. The other man reached inside his coat, and drew out an ornately carved dagger. He reflected the light from the blade into the man in the suit’s eyes. “My name is Zimodriel, sinner. And I am your salvation.”
The man in the suit almost growled, “I said, I don’t want your salvation, damn you.”
Zimodriel pressed the dagger to his neck, “Pray.” The man in the suit tried to edge away from the blade, and Zimodriel let it bite through his flesh. “Pray,” he repeated. The man in the suit choked on his own saliva, but started to pray. As he did, Zimodriel drew the blade around the man in the suit’s neck, cutting the flesh just enough to draw blood.
The dagger dragged around the man in the suit’s neck in a complete circle. Blood spilled down his neck like some kind of disholy baptism. As the he finished the prayer, Zimodriel leaned into his ear. “Good. There is hope for you, yet.” He whispered, and drove the blade through his throat.
The dagger was sheathed into the coat pocket it had came from despite the blood, and Zimodriel lit a cigarette on his lips. “Jupiter, father. I have given to you another that which you deserve. Do you still not forgive me?”

Description
Tap, tap, tap.
The figure walked slowly, casually, towards the man in the suit. His feet clicking against the ground. The structure of his body was thin, and stooped over, shrugging against it’s own weight in an almost elderly fashion. Silky red and black strands of hair hung down to his shoulders, brushing against the base of his neck and the leather jacket that wrapped around it. Both hands were wrapped around behind him, seeming to conceal a hidden package. Maybe a prize, or a gun. His legs, clad in black shining leather and silver gleaming buckles, pushed aside the mist that clung to the ground. As he walked past, the mist did not pull itself inward to regain the space it had lost. It was as if the mist thought the ground that had been stepped on was sacred -- or maybe it was scared of it. His eyes watched the space where he set his feet, and nothing more. Devoid of emotion, purpose, even life itself seemed drained from the way he looked at the world.
Tap, tap, tap.
The man in the suit blinked, and the image of the other man twisted. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, covered with plaster white that pulsed with red veins. Three sets of horns sprouted on his temples, behind his ears, and on the top of his head. Golden piercing hung everywhere on his face, and chains of gold and gems wrapped around his waist and wrists and ankles. His skin was white and pure. Flawless and androgynous. He was a demon of lothlorien, pure and immortal. From his back hung a set of fragile wings. Silky and neon, like a raving fairy. But they were trashed, torn. A ravaged butterfly.
Tap, tap, tap.
No longer than a blink of the man in the suit’s eye, and he looked as he had before, black leather and purposeless soul. “What the fuck are you?” The man in the suit growled. The other man’s shoes tapped at the ground, the same unwavering pace. “Fucking answer me!” The other man brought his arms to his face, feeding a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it. He dragged at the stick until it was half wasted, and never blew out the smoke.
Tap, tap, tap.
The other man stopped, just close enough to smell the man in the suit’s breath. He finished off the stick with another long drag, this time blowing the smoke into the man in the suit’s eyes. He sat and did nothing. Watched the man in the suit. Cool and calm enough that he seemed not even to breathe.
The man in the suit spat at the ground between them, and sneered at the other man. “Get the fuck away from me.”
The other man began to circle the man in the suit, as if inspecting and critiquing the way he stood. He trailed a finger behind the man in the suit’s right ear, “You forgot to wash behind your ears.” His voice was flute-like, comparable to silk, but it was nowhere near soothing.
The man in the suit slapped his hand away. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”
“Now that’s not the correct question, and you know it isn’t.” The other man laughed smoothly.
The man in the suit twisted sharply and jabbed a finger into the air in front of the other man’s face. “You shut the fuck up and answer my questions.” The other man’s lips twisted in a sardonic grin. Shaded ivy green in his eyes twisting into pits of loathing and malicious intent. The man in the suit moved his mouth, working against the other mans eyes, “You back the fuck away from me.”
The other man brought his head close to the man in the suit’s ear, his lips brushing the lobes as he talked. “Do you, truly, not know why I have come for you?“ The man in the suit shoved him away, stumbling backwards as he did. The other man brought himself to his full height, seeming to lengthen like elastic into a looming shadow. He shouted now, a broken harmony of song-like threats. “Were you that eager to forget?”
“Get back! Get back or I swear…” The man in the suit frantically racked his mind for the words.
The other man screamed now. “You’ll WHAT? You’ll BEAT me like your daughter? Rape me like your WHORES?” The other man twisted again into a demon, a blazing vision of grandeur and holy rage. The man in the suit tried to shove past him, and was thrown backwards into a brick wall, and the other became human again.
The other man spoke in a whisper. “Sinner. Did you forget this?” From his coat he pulled a small picture. The man in the suit winced and squirmed against the other man’s grip.
“Leave me alone,” he pleaded, “You don’t want me.”
The other man cooed, “oh ,but I do want you. As does my father. And I can send you to him. I can give you salvation.”
The man in the suit looked into the other man’s eyes helplessly, but immediately turned away. “I don’t need your salvation.”
The man in the suit felt himself forced to his knees. The other man reached inside his coat, and drew out an ornately carved dagger. He reflected the light from the blade into the man in the suit’s eyes. “My name is Zimodriel, sinner. And I am your salvation.”
The man in the suit almost growled, “I said, I don’t want your salvation, damn you.”
Zimodriel pressed the dagger to his neck, “Pray.” The man in the suit tried to edge away from the blade, and Zimodriel let it bite through his flesh. “Pray,” he repeated. The man in the suit choked on his own saliva, but started to pray. As he did, Zimodriel drew the blade around the man in the suit’s neck, cutting the flesh just enough to draw blood.
The dagger dragged around the man in the suit’s neck in a complete circle. Blood spilled down his neck like some kind of disholy baptism. As the he finished the prayer, Zimodriel leaned into his ear. “Good. There is hope for you, yet.” He whispered, and drove the blade through his throat.
The dagger was sheathed into the coat pocket it had came from despite the blood, and Zimodriel lit a cigarette on his lips. “Jupiter, father. I have given to you another that which you deserve. Do you still not forgive me?”