Hunter becomes Hunted... (1X1 or small group)

Listening to him talk about Wendigos seemed to greatly intrigue Azriel whose eyes did not wander from his own. Her lip curled in disgust whenever he mentioned her humanity, it was seemingly the only difference between them. She often envied demons and their undeserved power; having the strength of four men combined was something she imagined would be very useful. Azriel stared at Veteris for a moment, tiredly. She knew demons ate humans, or at the very least devoured their souls to supply the energy needed to generate their...What was it called? Magic seemed far too fantastical and anything else sounded stupid. Whatever it was, demons used humans to make it stronger. But, she'd never seen or even heard of Veteris eating someone. Perhaps this was how he appeared human, able to slip under the radar-human flesh hadn't caused him to become mutilated and deformed. Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer. She briefly wondered if had she not been a hunter, whether she would have found him charming. Her head immediately recoiled at the thought. Hell must've been affecting her. It was a moronic, sleepy thought: the scarlet hunter attached to her prey by nothing more than basic human attraction. Preposterous!

As he talked about Cain, she huffed uneasily, twitching her head as though she expected him to manifest from the fog. When he didn't she turned to look at the demon sat beside her. Too close. He was always too close, she could see the sharp points of his teeth as he grinned. "I don't ask for sympathy, I ask you don't bring up matters that have no meaning. They died. It was horrific. I moved on. There is nothing else to say,"

His chuckle unnerved her. Not wanting to speak with him any longer, Azriel turned her head away and stared off into the foggy distance. She thought about Sirius for the longest time, seemingly regretting the child-like rebelliousness that he had grown used to. He wouldn't be looking for her yet. It was too soon. Her fingers twitched around the razor blade, holding it tightly in her fist. She thought of her mother again and Cain. Gods! This weakness! Her head shifted uncomfortably, her aching legs rolling weakly inwards as she always preferred them to.

Against all levels of rationality, her mind once again wandered back to Veteris. The demon seemed to have far more of a personality than anyone she'd met. She'd never found her kind particularly interesting, not for longer than a few hours. They were either oblivious to the demonic creatures around them and too stupid to know better or were driven insane or murderous by reality. Everyone even Sirius was fighting for some sort of vengeance. His wife had been driven to suicide after their daughter was devoured by some sort of monster. Azriel tried to distance herself from Sirius but he seemed determined to replace the void in his heart by caring for Azriel. She sighed hard, a tear rolling down her face, Azriel was many things but she couldn't be a substitute daughter. Her eyes flickered. She allowed herself to become vulnerable in the demon's grasp and fell asleep.

There was silence for several hours after. But, the girl became twitchy, restless, murmuring things about the medication she didn't want, then the medication she needed. Nothing seemed to make sense, the specters around them seemed hungrier than before. As if, with her walls down, the girl's human nature was even more desirable, but, Veteris' possessive presence kept them away, watching, salivating at the mouth. Jealousy, they lingered wondering why the demon was keeping something so lovely alive.

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When Azriel's eyes opened again, it felt like years that lasted seconds had passed. She had moved in the night, her head was resting on Veteris's shoulder. One hand was sprawled lazily across his chest, the other was in her lap, still tightly holding the tiny blade. His hold around her side hadn't moved; it was still coiled like a snake around her torso. She blinked up at him, his gaze was fixated in the distance, as though waiting for another attack. For a moment, she thought she had felt fingers drifting through her hair, as though desperate to tighten their hold and wrench her head back. The moment her eyes flickered open it stopped and she was convinced they hadn't been there, Wriggling slightly, Azriel's hand tightened around his shirt, her head shifting nuzzling slightly into him. She made a soft noise, like a child whining that they didn't want to get out of bed. Then, in a moment of horrific realisation, the girl snatched her head from his shoulder and the hand on his chest pushed him away as if he was diseased.

Azriel's breath shook in rage as she threw her head back against the hard surface behind them. It was several minutes before her breathing relaxed and she nearly fell asleep again. His eyes had trailed to her shoulder, which had started bleeding with the sudden movement, running down her neck and chest. Her arm was still hanging out of her uniform, she held her hand pinched around the material over her heart, feeling it pound.

Her stomach growled in hunger and she sighed.

A curious thought from the previous night prickled intently in her eyes, "What do you eat?" She asked. Briefly, she wondered if he wanted to eat her, drain her like a personal food supply. He was giving her a playful look and she stared at him, "I hope you aren't planning on eating me," the sneer left her before she could stop herself, "As the old saying goes, redheads don't have souls." She held his gaze firmly, a little unnerved. Her hand drifted to her hair, frizzy looking and tangled. Gods she must've looked horrific. Why did she care?

She broke their gaze wearily and stood, her muscles ached. She wasn't used to having to speak this much in the morning. "What kind of demon are you anyway?" She yawned as though disinterested, "You said Cain is an upper demon. You must be too right? " She wondered out loud, "You're the only demons I've faced and not killed, though," she paused glancing back at him, "At least Cain was able to make me feel fear," the tease was juvenile, intended to annoy him. Fire gleamed in her eyes as a cheeky grin formed across her face. After yesterday, she was eager to return to her usual elusive, unbothered self though there was a flicker of unease as she froze in her tracks aware she could not go far without him. This reality was nothing short of heartbreaking.

A morbid ache hung in the backs of her eyes, she supposed it was caused by the constant squinting through the mist. She longed to sink back down and sleep again, at least then she wouldn't have to deal with him. Their encounters usually lasted a few hours most, how long would it be till one grew bored of the other?

"How long do you think it'll be until other demons figure out I'm here?" She asked slyly as he rose to face her, towering over the girl. "Or is that perhaps your plan? To take me to the other demons as some sort of prize?" Once again, he was suddenly too close. She was too sleepy to notice him move.

How was she ever able to be this close to him at the party? Alcohol was a wicked thing. She remembered his hand on her waist, holding her close as they swayed. His other hand interlaced their fingers, she had almost gagged at the feeling. Now, the same uncomfortable knot was swelling in her stomach.

As he started to make out a reply Azriel interrupted. "Why didn't you kill me at the party?" She blurted suddenly as if his plan no longer mattered to her. When he looked at her, with that piercing gaze, she began to awkwardly fumble with the clothes she was wearing, or half wearing."You had every opportunity to kill me...You could have charmed any girl there, or any guy I imagine," she explained, pulling the strap of her bra back onto her shoulder ignoring as the burn raged. She forced her arm into the sleeve of hee uniform gruffly, then his coat. "You didn't kill anyone...You just danced...Do you tend to try and seduce your targets?"

She still thought about his scar. How satisfying. “Not very creative?” He pouted slightly, as if she had hurt his feelings, and then sniggered. “Well, too bad, doll. You’re the one stuck with it, at least until you die.”

He was strangely relieved to see the fire flashing in her eyes again. What was she thinking, acting so human in front of him? Didn’t she know that he would only mock her for it? Even such a one as this had her limits, he guessed.

His mind wandered off to his plan, the half-formed thing that had seemed tantalizing enough at the time to make him put off killing her. He wondered how much longer it would take before he tired of her. They were all the same in the end, just pitiful and weak at the core. She was surely no different. Demons were bitter and unholy, true, but at least they were strong. He lived through every day knowing that his time was limited, doomed to wander the earth, never wanted, always feared, collecting those lives which he could. If he could be honest in the smallest part of his mind, he would admit it was a petty thing to do. Demons had no soul, and no eternal inheritance to which to look forward. It was a kind of retribution that drove them to slaughter humans. It felt good knowing that even if he was destined for eternal torment, he possessed the power to make people’s lives utterly miserable. Not that humans needed much help being miserable. Disgusting things. They loved to hate each other and hurt each other. They would pretend to be your friend and turn on you in a flash. Even demons didn’t stoop to the same kind of backstabbing that humans loved to engage in. Wretched creatures. There had never been one that impressed him.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But he didn’t like to think about that one. He had been such an odd thing, anyway. Veteris wasn’t sorry that he killed him. Especially after hearing that name.

Once he sat her down, of course she tried to take her weapons back, but there wasn’t much fight left in her. She was tired. He still grinned at her as she tried to grab it. All it took was holding it just out of her reach. What fun. Her weapon was lovely, almost ironically so. Something so delicate-looking used for killing. Much like her. But S.C. meaning nothing? She was an excellent hunter, but a sub-par liar. If it was nothing, why make sure to call it out? Was her last name shared with that mystery person, then? He frowned a little at the thought. Maybe she was married, and didn’t like anyone to know. Sounded like something a human would do.

Her gratitude made him pause in confusion, but in the next moment she had whirled on him with a blade. “Nice way of thanking me.” He laughed, delighted, at she pulled the razor on him. “If you feel like slitting my throat, you’d better make sure my blood doesn’t hurt you more than it has.” He was a little miffed when she dropped it, obviously weary. “Well, fine then,” he sneered. “Don’t make it interesting.”

He was about to complain some more when she started unbuttoning her top. A slender neck came into view, and graceful collarbones freckled with light brown. He grinned at the burn on her arm. This was the second obvious mark he had on her. So much for S.C.

She was clever, so he momentarily debated talking to her about the Wendigo’s abilities. Not that the creature had much in common with his kind, but he wouldn’t put it past her to try to worm some critical information out of him. “Well, the legends say that most infernal beings are remnants of humanity. With unpleasant ones like that, you can bet they did something pretty nasty in their past lives. Wendigos are supposedly those who turned to consumption of human flesh.” He waved a thing finger at her. That’s only for demons, you know. So when they died, they became creatures bound to live in agony, always looking for their next meal. Of course, everything has its upsides. Cursed to always crave humanity, they are unnaturally attuned to their inner thoughts. They use the painful memories to weaken their prey, or to lure them in. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that have followed the sound of a Wendigo’s voice just because they sounded like dear old Grandpa.” He grinned malevolently. “But of course, they’re mostly confined to the spirit realm. They really don’t get out that much.” At her next question, he cocked his head to the side. “Dear, I’m not like you, remember? My mind doesn’t constantly reflect on the past. You humans are always collecting history. I live in the moment; those things don’t drag me down.” A lie, again. How was she so good at asking just the right questions to make him uneasy? “Besides, I’m a spirit creature too, so I’ve got some protection. Not a walking open book like your kind.”

Cain. Veteris scowled. He hated his kind as much as he hated himself, but that one was a special breed of despicable. “You shouldn’t bother telling me. I don’t do sympathy,” he told her, voice surprisingly muted. “That sounds like Cain, alright. Sick freak. But I don’t know about killing him, doll. He’s one of those upper-level demons. Your agency is trying to save your life.”

Wrapping his arm around her and dragging her up against his side, he chuckled at her stiffness. It was clear from her face that she wanted to be anywhere but sitting there with him. This was almost as much fun as fighting her. “Catch forty winks.” He held back from mocking her human weakness, knowing that she would likely refuse to sleep at all. “Unless you want to die from lack of sleep. I’d laugh you into the afterlife.”

Azriel was unable to neglect the slight gasp that left her as he lifted her into his arms. "I can walk-" she insisted but was quickly shushed by his hand running across her lips to clean them. She was silenced at the action, a little confused; his hand was rough against her soft lips and she sucked the remaining blood off her bottom lip. The girl was extremely grateful that he didn't feast on humans like other demons otherwise, she would have seemed like quite the meal. Ugh. How weak must she seem in comparison to the world they had come from? She was unable to even survive a few minutes from him. Earlier on she was slashing at his coat, trying to kill him and now she laid like some sort of damsel in distress. It made her feel sick to the stomach.

"Do you not have other coats?" She sneered as he complained, "Did I not just save your life?" She was somewhat back to her usual self, "I didn't have to; could have just let the Wendigo rip your head off that "Artful" body of yours," the girl mimicked his words from before rolling her eyes. She glanced down at the coat, it's long grey fabric was charred at the edges, and flecks of blood wiggled down the front and around the collar. She sighed. Azriel hated ruining clothes. She was already upset enough about her hunters uniform having a hole in. She could tell the burn had ripped further from firing the arrow, blood tricked down towards her chest from the tight wound.

It was easy to tell she didn't want to look at him directly. Instead, she gazed at the foggy trees; the landscape was starting to hurt her focused eyes. Of course, she was used to navigating landscapes in which her eyesight was restricted but fog was a little different than darkness and even on foggy nights in the city, there were lamps that provided a dim yellow light for her to see the ground in front of her.

The soothing tone made her tense a little. Was he complimenting her? Why? Suspiciously, her head lifted from his shoulder to look at him again. "We are trained to know how to deal with all demonic creatures. I'm the best hunter the Agency has...You shouldn't be surprised that my actions weren't like "most people," she pointed out immodestly. Azriel had never seen the point in hiding her achievements; they made Hunters respect her and demons fear her. She didn't gloat but made sure that everyone knew their place; no one had the right to think little of her. "I'm not a victim," she glanced down at her wrist again, tugging the sleeve over the v that was carved into the flesh. "I hate you for this," she mumbled, "It's not very creative. I would have thought you were more...unique." Azriel's words were seductive but unease laced them. "There is more creative ways to try and scare me, Veteris. Although, that was a good first attempt."

As he nestled her down into the dip, she let out some sort of gasp, feeling some of her energy return. Her eyes rose sluggishly to the sky. Of course it was silly to think Hell was below the Earth, she knew it was more so that the worlds existed in line with each other but folklore had adapted it to something more feasible. She stared at him for a moment, unravelling her braid fully until her red hair cascaded down like a fiery waterfall. After a while of silent staring, Azriel grew uncomfortable and sighed sleepilly.

She couldn't rest without a weapon at her side.

"Give me my weapons back, do you want me to be defenceless?" Azriel demanded impatiently. The girl cursed as her legs failed to support her weight and reached her arm up as he dangled it out of her reach. She had always been lanky and lean, it was a beneficial adaptation to her surroundings. Some of the younger recruits always had to find long ways into buildings. Azriel recalled staring down at them from the top of the towers they were made to climb with amusement.

The same smile of amusement was painted across his face. Veteris seemed oddly interested in the weapon, his eyes running up and down it with interest. There were delicate swirls, and intricate patterns she had created herself to surround the logo of the Protection Agency which was a raven with the letters PA engraved underneath it. It was rather an ugly logo and so she had made an effort to make her favourite weapon more appealing. Even further down were her initials AB and SC. She noticed him stare at those for a little too long.

"Azriel Brazenheart," she explained. "Brazenheart is obviously not my original surname, that would be to convenient,". Her surname was something she didn't mind sharing. It was fake anyway. "SC is nothing important, it's just the name of the person who made the bow. He means nothing."

Sirius Castor. It meant anything but nothing.

The demon sat down next to her at the base of the tree almost teasing her with the bow she had no chance of getting back. Her heart seemed to quicken as he stretched out beside her, flinching in spite of herself as his arm moved. He seemed far to comfortable next to her; he would never be this close if she wasnt so..human.

There was something oddly enjoyable with the affair, it was a silent truce where neither party trusted the other. She turned over to face away from him, staring into the distance. "Thank you for stopping the monster," Her voice was dry, "It...caught me off guard."

Azriel felt him move a little behind her. Perhaps he was trying to get comfortable, perhaps he going to kill her, the girl didn't care. She spun around suddenly and pressed a razor blade from her pocket against his neck. Her breathing was laboured, her hold on him a little weaker than usual, tiredness clung to her face. "Try anything and you'll be having more than a close shave with death."

Her pun was spoken with less of an assured tone this time. Azriel spared a glance back over to where the Wendigo had been before snapping her head back up to his. Part of her wished she had just accepted rest, but, it was not in her nature to cower to anything less than her terms. Exhausted, Azriel lowered her arm and put the razor back up her sleeve.

Slowly, the eighteen year old undid the top few buttons of her utility suit and pulled her injured arm out. Parts of the burn had stuck to the material which she did her best not to rip. It was grotesque to look at, her flesh was red raw, almost shiny in texture but, there was a pattern in the way the colours were distributed, forming the imprint of Veteris' bloody palm. At least it was personalised and not completely boring.

She sighed resting her head back, her spare arm moving to hold the wound. "H-How do Wendigos know what they know? Do they read minds? How do they get into their victims heads? And why couldn't it get into yours?" She asked curiously, fighting a small tremble in her voice. With her hair down, weaponless and once again tired, Azriel was aware she looked less like the scarlet hunter and more like a demon's average piece of prey. But she attempted to hide this by filling the time with an educational conversation praying he wouldn't focus on her fragile looking appearance.

She was still shaking slightly, a mixture of weaning adrenaline and external coldness. Instinctively, she lifted her knees to her chest and pulled his coat tight around her. His long arm weaved its way around her waist again silently, it felt like a cage but she started to warm a little and her stiff muscles eventually began to unclench. Discomfort at his hold was evident on her face, ahe needed the warmth but, his grip was possessive and tight, not allowing her to inhale or exhale a full breath.

Azriel could hear the wendigo in her ears, the voice of her younger self screaming in fear. "A lot has changed since my parents were... murdered, Veteris." She decided to bring up the topic, if only to prevent him using it against her as a weapon later. If he knew the bare minimum, perhaps he wouldn't be so.. Demonic about discovering more. If she looked unbothered by it all, he wouldn't feel the need to investigate.

"I hope you know I'm not that scared little girl anymore. Hearing those sounds doesnt bring me fear. Sadness maybe but ive seen a lot worse since then. " She breathed a little shakily, "The demon was called Cain..he... pretended to be a monster under my bed... My mother thought i was far too old to be scared of monsters and she went to check and thats when he possessed her."

The sensation of his hand on her arm caused her tense, he seemed to once again be admiring his mark in her flesh. The letter V seemed to burn at his touch as if aware of its tormentor. She didnt pull away, convincing herself it was for the necessity of his touch and warmth. Did he find comfort in knowing she had a past filled with fear? In knowing she wasn't always an unstoppable force.

"Cain is still alive. The Agency won't let me go on some assassination mission. If we come across him in Hell... One of us is dying." She mused but a shudder past through her. Her eyes grew heavy as he continued to trace the skin on her arm.

His distraction almost cost him his head as the beast reared up behind him, surprisingly quick for all its ungainliness. Veteris snapped his head up to eye her in shock as she distracted it with an arrow to its remaining hand. He wouldn’t have expected her to come to his aid—surely she wasn’t worried about dying? That hadn’t been the impression he had from her at all.

Wendigo didn’t have the power to pry into demon heads, something he was extremely grateful for. But she was not so lucky. Its foul mouth opened in a women’s cry, and he could see Azriel falter like she’d been slapped. He grinned. So she was only human after all. Just like he’d thought. There was something chaining her soul that he could use against her. That was excellent.

In the next moment, she was flung across the ground, and he refocused. The huntress wasn’t doing so well. He needed to wrap up this quickly before the gaping space between them or the Wendigo finished her. Rousing an enormous amount of energy, he summoned a fireball nearly five feet across, and then with a snarl of exertion, compressed it until it was only slightly larger than an orange. The pressure from that much unholy fire condensed into a tiny space made it difficult for him to control, but luckily he only needed a moment to sling it straight into its open ribcage. The fire imploded, disintegrating the beast and sending spotches of gray matter flying.

His mouth curled in distaste, but he didn’t spare it another thought. Azriel was slumped on the ground, looking much worse for the wear. Quickly stepping across the distance that separated them before the specters finished off her life force, he picked her up off the ground, scooping up her bow and arrows and slinging them across his back. “More spoils of war. At this point you might as well give up the hunter life at the rate you’re losing weapons.” He scowled, eyeing her body. “You ruined my coat, though.”

He raised an eyebrow at the weak joke and was about to respond with a cruel rejoinder, when her face crumpled and she began crying. Still, she kept talking, like there weren’t rivulets of water coursing down her face. The hunter was crying. This was a little unexpected. He looked at her carefully, eyes incomprehensible, and then quickly, before he could think about it and change his mind, he carefully swiped the back of his hand across her mouth to clean off some of the dirt and blood.

Trying to get his thoughts in order, he began walking again, her body nearly weightless in his long arms. He suspected her questions were just to throw him off from talking about the Wendigo’s reveal of her mother, but he didn’t push it. “No and no.” His tone was casual, but he couldn’t look her in the face. “I’m powered by darkness, so I don’t need to rejuvenate myself like you do. I can be rendered unconscious, though I doubt you’d be able to hurt me that badly.” He glanced at her again, but her expression was still shaky and hurt, and it made him uneasy. It was like she wanted him to reassure her. He let out a harsh chuckle. “And I’ve already had that chance, remember?” Though with everything that had happened, he was beginning to wish he had. It would have saved him from all this confusion.

But what was he doing? This was a complete waste of an opportunity. Here she was, obviously mentally shaken and weak. He needed to take advantage of it to bring down her defenses. He lowered his tone into a soft, soothing tone. “I’m sorry about the monster. It’s one of the more heartless things down here.” Besides himself, of course, but she didn’t need to be reminded of that. “It uses anything it can to get the advantage. Often, when a Wendigo opens its mouth, the victim will freeze in horror and forgo fighting back. You did well to continue attacking it.”

They broke through the thicker part of the dead trees, finally, and began winding their way up a hill. The farther they rose, the less the fog seemed to hang around them, and the overhead light grew a little stronger. “I suppose we’ll have to take a break. You don’t look particularly well.” He set her down in a dip in the ground that was nestled into the steepening hillside. “You should feel a little better here.” He jerked his head up towards the gray sky. “This is one of the closer spots to your world, so evil power is lesser here.”

Azriel had fixated her eyes at her feet as she noticed his eyes trail down her legs, rather embarrassed by the affair, he referred to her as "graceful" and "artfully designed," compliments were not something she was used to receiving. If people ever did compliment her it was about her hunting skills or her ability to solve problems. The body she was in was nothing but a vessel for her twisted soul. She was surprisingly comfortable with the scars that she had acclaimed but, not because they were "warriors wounds" or whatever optimistic lie Sirius fed the young new recruits. Azriel was comfortable with her appearance because she felt disconnected from her body; it was a tool, a weapon to use against anyone she pleased.

His fantasy of her death was an answer. By the confidence in which he had provided it, she knew he thought about killing her often. How often was she on his mind? Why did she care?

Thankfully, her thoughts were cut off by the shrieking sound of a monster barrelling from the bushes. It was several times larger than Veteris and Azriel and appeared to be some sort of wolfish giant. Their arms were thin and bony but massive claws hung on the edge of the brittle wrists. Trailing her eyes upwards, Azriel couldn't hold back a disgusted frown; it's rib cage and organs were visible and as it stood over them, she ducked to avoid blood dripping on her face. Azriel had never faced a Wendigo before, they tended to arise in freezing climates. She'd read about them before in her lessons but, never paid attention. She'd rather learn on the job than in a classroom.

As Veteris' hand slid round her waist, a small sound left her at the firmness of his grasp but, they were flying backwards before she could protest. As they reached a tree, the girl didn't have time to respond; sprinting after him like her life depended on it (which it did). She watched with wide eyes as he leapt up onto the creatures face and stumbled back unable to hear how he was taunting the beast. Quickly, she slid the bow off her shoulders and knocked an arrow. Her aim drifted between Veteris and the creature. She could get both with one arrow if she really wanted too.

But, her fingers neglected to let go of the drawstring. She couldn't kill Veteris. A sigh escaped her. Perhaps she was more concerned about dying than she thought. As he tore off the creatures's arm, it cried out, turning in rage, kicking her back. She began to splutter in the fog; ice quickly made its way up her fingers.

She was too far away from Veteris.

Grudgingly, the girl began to stand, maintaining the hold of her bow. She crept forward, as quick as her weighted form could manage. She could hear whispers of creatures around her, invisible but hungry. Her feet moved quicker, clicking and cracking as she walked. In the distance, she could see Veteris wildly looking for her. He wasn't paying attention and the beast surged behind him ready to sling a claw.

Azriel fired her arrow straight into the beasts hand, stumbling forwards just enough that she began to warm up again. She breathed heavily, she knew Wendigos could mimic voices. It was a prospect that terrified her. She needed to be quick. Sprinting to the side of the creature, Azriel looked for a clear path to it's heart and readied another arrow as it turned to glare down at her.

"Azriel run!" The voice of her mother hit her ears, coming from the monster's feral lips. She froze at the sound, it was so unfamiliar and yet, she couldn't forget it. The screams that followed after made her fingers clench in anger. It wasn't real. It was just a memory...She tried to calm herself but, it neglected to work. She fired one arrow, then two, then three, relentlessly. She was going to shut the monster up, to make it pay for ever mimicking her mother like that. The first two clattered off the vile, yellow bone but, the last landed perfectly in a lung. She didn't care all she could picture was her mother dying at the hands of a creative, vile demon she didn't know the name of. Another scream left the wendigo's throat. It was her own, twelve year old Azriel, "Mummy no!" She blocked out the weakness. Veteris mustve been loving it.

As it choked, she remained frozen, not bothering to jump as its remaining arm smacked her across the side of the face, sending her flying. The hunter hit the ground with a groan, her lips were bloody but they quickly began turning blue again. She couldn't bring herself to move; stifling the urge to cry. Her mother...Even the thought brought tears to her eyes; she blinked them away, digging her fingers into her skin as Veteris finished the job. She gasped for breath, her body weak with bruises as she tried to lift her head to see him walking towards her.

Azriel shook her head; coaxing herself to remain stoic and undisturbed. She licked her bloody lips as he lifted her off the ground. She swallowed hard, hands resting against his chest for support. Could he feel her legs trembling slightly?

"Guess you make me weak at the knees too," she sneered trying her luck with another pun. "Don't run away from me like that again!" She punched him in the chest weakly, feeling his heart beneath her fingers. A few tears had escaped her eyes but, she held his gaze as they ran down her face. The girl blinked hard a little dizzy from being knocked over. Her head swam.

"D-Do demons ever sleep?" More tears ran down her face as she stared between him and the wendigo's body. Her blood dripped onto his top. "Will you kill me in my sleep? " She disregarded her crying with a change of conversation, lifting one hand to wipe her eyes. Her closed fist around his shirt held a fist daring him to mention her mother. His smirk was undesirable.

“If you’re not going to turn into a little redheaded icicle, I’ll keep what dignity I have left.” He smirked, turning his head and making a show of running his eyes up and down her trim, pale legs. “Besides, I like your legs just the way they are now.”

He hadn’t failed to noticed the glance she had spared the scar on her wrist.

That had been the first time he had done something like this, but he had felt like this hunter was different and wanted to seek her out. He had gone through the trouble to track her down, even hanging close to the Agency, something that he had never bothered with before. It was night, his preferred time, and he had finally found her in an ancient, abandoned clock tower whose bells had long since been silenced. There were little, soft sounds coming from her mouth as she tossed and turned, looking like a girl instead of a huntress. Her lithe form had been sprawled across the floor, her shirt hiked up and exposing her stomach. Veteris wasn’t a vain creature, but it seemed a little unfair that she should still look so temping covered in scars. There was nothing attractive about the ones that littered his body; they were mostly from other demons and so were grisly and disfiguring, with lines of purple and black running in gruesome knots across the scored flesh. Still, she had plenty of marks on her body, and he felt an idea bubbling up to the surface. Cutting her in battle wouldn’t be any different than the ones she had faced before—she would not look at an additional cut with the fear and shame he wanted to instill in her. So he had waited until she had startled awake, those big eyes locking on him with shock (but no fear, which was a little disappointing) and then he had pinned her to the cold wooden floor and inscribed his initial into her flesh. “V for ‘victim’,” he had informed her over her shrieks of pain. “Or for me.”

His eyes lit up at her question. “That’s a good one. Clever girl. There’s more than one way I’d like to kill you. Unfortunate that you only have one life. I suppose I’ll pick whichever way I’m feeling most excited about at the time, or whichever works. But right now, I’ve been dreaming about slowly bleeding you out.” He nodded again at the slim legs. “You’re rather artfully designed; I’d prefer not to rend your limbs. I’d like to open wounds across your body, starting with that graceful neck. I’d expose all those major arteries to the chilling air and let the strength drain from you. Slowly, you’d cease fighting and sink to the ground in a puddle of scarlet. Maybe I’d wrap you in my arms and let you stain all my clothes, whispering dreadful things to you until you finally stilled, and all that was red in your body was your hair.” He shuddered in anticipation, letting out a harsh exhale with a sinister laugh. “That would be something else. I’m getting excited just imagining it.” This would hardly be the first time he had fantasized about killing her, but talking to her about it added a wonderfully disturbing edge to it. He shook his head briskly to clear the absorbing dream from it, grinning. “Azriel, you ask me another distracting question like that, and you just might have your chance to destroy me.”

The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he immediately snapped to attention. An ominous presence was drawing near. He frowned and looked over at her. “I don’t mean to interrupt this tentative peace, but it looks like something may be dumb enough to challenge my claim. Stay sharp. There are things besides demons in this world that would like to gobble you up in one mouthful.”

He waited a moment to see if the thing would realize that the tantalizing human was under the watchful eye of a demon, but it didn’t seem to get the hint and barreled out of the bushes, shrieking.

Just when it was getting good, too. He sighed and turned to face the challenger. “Ah, we finally have a taker.”

Wendigo. Huge. Dumb. Dangerous. Utter waste of his time. He’d been batted around by a few in his many centuries, but things always ended the same, with him standing and shreds of Wendigo wafting in the air.

This was ridiculous. He was going to have to play defender now. With an irritated sneer, he conjured a burning fireball in his left fist. As the creature swung its arm to hit them, he wrapped his arm firmly around Azriel’s waist and kicked back, the push sending them both skidding across the ground. He hurled the hellfire, sending it whizzing into its eye. As soon as they came to a halt against an enormous gray tree, he let go of the girl in a blink, turning to eye her. “Stay close to me if you like breathing, huntress.” Without looking to see if she was behind him, he sprinted forward. The long arms were reaching for him again, but this time he brandished the demon knife he had taken from her when they had transported. “Enjoy this, you freak,” he hissed, slamming it through the beast’s wrist. It bellowed, but the charms on the blade didn’t hurt it like they would have affected a demon. He threw a quick look over his shoulder. “You keeping up?” He didn’t have time to catch her response as claws whistled inches from his nose. He turned back to leer at the beast. “Poor thing. Thought you could face off with a creature from the inner circle of Hades? You’re dumber than you look.”

This had been one of the more difficult days he had experienced in a long time, and between his frustration and his unfulfilled lust to rend flesh, Veteris was in no mood to play nice. He sprung into the air with the nimbleness of a cat and landed on its face, clawing his sharp fingers directly across its eyes. “You wretched thing. I hope you live long enough to regret provoking a demon,” he hissed, grabbing its arm and tearing it from the shoulder with a sickening noise. “I haven’t had to touch one of your kind in ages.”

With a strangled roar, it knocked him away with its remaining claw, and he spun head over heels across the ground, kicking up chunks of powdery brown dust. It made him lose his breath for a moment, but he rushed to his feet in the next instant, eyes sweeping the area for a spot of red. Had he gotten too far away from her?

"What little girl doesn't like fairytales?" Azriel quirked an eyebrow at Veteris. Not much was known about how demons came into existence; there were stories that they had been humans murdered in such a violent way that they clung to life until their humanity stripped away and left them with just the evil parts of their soul. "There's usually some element of truth in them...You look on the surface pretty human is it so shameful that I had considered the myth to be a reliable source?" She watched as a smile on his lips turned into a frown and pondered what he could possibly be thinking about. In his presence, the scars on her body seemed to tingle, like they were aware of him. She wondered if he was aware which ones were created by his hand, could he distinguish his work from others?

There was one scar he'd caused intentionally, Usually, Azriel would try to engage Veteris in a thrilling conversation but, she wasn't expecting him to appear in the day. It had been about a week since the dancing fiasco and He showed up to the old clock tower she stayed in. no one could get in without scouring the high walls and complicated climb. She thought it was the perfect hideout. Yet, when she woke up to see him standing over her; almost carelessly, she'd jumped straight into action. She'd been dressed in pyjama shorts and a huge top that sunk down to her knees. Azriel hadn't liked him seeing her in anything other than her uniform. It made him know her better than the other demons.

How long had he been stood there? she had thought watching her toss and turn. Had she spoken in her sleep? Mentioned anything about the Agency, Sirius, the hospital, her parents? Mania had swelled in her chest. In the time it took for her to wildly reach for her knife,he'd slammed her to the ground and used his claw to carve the letter V slowly into her wrist. It had been agonising. she had kicked at him, spat, screamed into the makeshift pillow to try and hide her vulnerability and smacked at his head with her free fist. That had been the first time Azriel ever felt the thrill of being hunted rather than the hunter. She was ashamed to say she wished more demons had the nerve to sought her out.

She took her hand out of the pocket, and looked at the scar, with a small frown. At the nudge, the girl looked up at him wearily. She quickly lowered her wrist as his eyes lowered to the scar. Azriel's eyes seemed to glaze over at his question. She'd never considered what a world without demons would be like, mostly because she didn't see the point in contemplating unrealistic ideologies. She took a moment before responding, "It depends...A world without demons ever would mean I never become like this," she didn't elaborate on 'this' deliberately, "So If I could go back time and erase demons then yes...However, if you mean would I be happy if I woke up tomorrow and you were all gone?" A shiver went down her spine at the thought, "No. I like hunting too much...It keeps me occupied and distracted." A shadow seemed to pass over her face but, she blinked and looked up at him, eyes bright.

A slight apprehension curled around her as the unease grew. Veteris seemed to be gazing at invisible creatures all around them. In this realm, Azriel was not the strongest; she couldn't guard herself against things invisible. Why was he protecting her? Did he not want her to suffer?

"Another question?" She pouted in thought, tapping against his arm a little out of comfort and a little out of boredom. "Fine...If you were to kill me, (theoretically because we both know you couldn't) how would you do it?"

As he contemplated his answer, she tried to move the conversation on, stretching her bare legs out in front of them as they walked. The girl inwardly cursed herself for asking such a morbid question. She flushed again in embarrassment. "I am a bit cold still," she admitted. A cheeky grin rose to her lips, the blush lingering, "Why do you ask? Are you going to give me your trousers too? You ought to be careful y'know, this is starting to sound like the universe's slowest striptease,"

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Ah, there it was again. That belief. Humankind wanted so badly to think there was something relatable underneath the evil of demons. “Aren’t you a little old for fairytales, Miss Azriel? I know that’s a myth among common folk, but I wouldn’t think someone like you, who’s seen us as we really are, could believe we were once one of you.” He frowned. That was a myth he particularly disliked. Of course, it wasn’t true. Veteris had always existed, even when the universe had lain in darkness. He remembered the glory of the first star bursting into existence, and he remembered the first people who had roamed the earth. Then, they had been too simple, too pure, for spirits like him to interfere. No, it took thousands and thousands of years—or was it millennium?—for humans to grow weak enough for demons to emerge into the physical plane. Demons relied on the power of human spirit for their connection to the real world, something Veteris hated. Thankfully, there were always enough sinful people with dark souls and wicked spirits these days to allow his kind to enter and prey on the weak. If humans would stop fighting each other and come together in love, demons would be helpless to stop them. But they never would. That thought brought a smile to his lips, but it soured into a second frown when he thought about that myth. He wished humans would stop spreading it. Every time he thought of it, it brought that name simmering to the surface again, along with something else he couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it always made him feel sick. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to pick another question.” He nudged her arm with his own. “But fair’s fair, it’s my turn.”

The glow of her hair caught his eye, and he turned to watch it as they walked. He loved red. Especially in this filthy, gray environment, with nothing but purple flames and wraiths and endless fog, seeing the gleam of her braid was like breathing after being suffocated. It was even better to see the slight blush that lingered on her cheeks. His chest clenched with something like contentment. “Would you be happy if all the demons were gone?” The question came out with certainty, but he wasn’t sure exactly why he had said it. He was planning on asking her something that would make her reveal more of her weaknesses. The pun thing had already been stored away in his head, although he had no idea what practical use it was to him. “You’re not still cold, are you?” He hadn’t missed the shaky exhale earlier. “I mean, you’re practically wearing no pants.”

Though they were walking slowly, almost casually, he had never dropped his guard. Thankfully, she seemed to be mostly unaware of the eyes on her, although he was surprised to see her eyes sometimes dart as if she faintly saw something. The shadows still hung back, cowed in the presence of a being with far more dark power than themselves. The things in this realm were pathetic in their craven weakness. He knew how badly they wanted the girl, but they skitted along just out of reach, as if waiting for him to leave her. He scoffed inwardly. As if he would go through all this work just to abandon his prize.

His thoughts turned back to the plan that had been ruminating in his head ever since he had rashly grabbed this human woman and jumped into the Underworld. He hadn’t been thinking completely straight, he would admit. Her famed hunter status was a possible tool, and it wasn’t like she could kill him here, but when he had pulled her to him, he hadn’t been thinking about that. It had been a desire to change something, to break that awful feeling that her small hand had instilled in him. He had wanted to run. Why he hadn’t just run without her was something he didn’t get. This was highly irrational behavior on his part, and he didn’t like it. It was a good thing plans were already forming, and it was a good thing he had a mind that could focus on three things at once—his plan, their conversation, and the specters that still haunted their footsteps.

At his snort, her eyes snapped up to glare at him with a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She'd never heard a demon laugh out of something that wasn't sadistic amusement. It was odd to see Veteris behave so...so human. Her thoughts of confusion were quickly interrupted as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. She hadn't expected him to actually provide her with something to keep her warm. A bitter "Thank you" left her lips, worded uncomfortably. She wasn't used to showing gratitude, there was no one to show gratitude to. The jacket was feverishly warm but, she'd always preferred heat over the cold. Ice made the rooftops to walk on far to slippery and she hated having to wear gloves in the winter because of a lack of grip. Slithering herself into the sleeves; Azriel frowned at how long they were in comparison to her arms and stumbled after him, a willing prisoner. "I make puns all the time," she murmured quietly, trying to conceal an embarrassed flush that hit her cheeks. "I guess you wouldn't know that. Demons seem to know nothing but my name and appearance...I've done a good job at keeping my life private. It's better for everyone this way." Her lips thinned as though she was recalling something. Mentally, she scolded herself for telling him a detail about herself. Of course, the knowledge of her like for puns wasn't a crucial detail but, like the mask, keeping a tight wall around herself was the basis of principle. Minor cracks could split and once a demon knew how to break a human, it never ended well.

Likewise, she had tried to make herself unbreakable. But, over the past five years, being unbreakable had cost her the most basic of human emotions; happiness, the feeling of community, fear, anger. The only thing that brought her emotion was hunting and even that was a quick fix, like a drug. Hunting demons was addicting. It stopped her from confronting her inner turmoil. In that way, Azriel supposed, she was grateful for demons.

She wondered how long it would take for her Uncle Sirius to realise she was in gone. Azriel often regarded her uncle as though he was a minor inconvenience. Sometimes she figured that life would be easier if she didn't have any family. Despite the title of "uncle" the two weren't related in any way. Despite her...Previous addictions, he had cared for Azriel like no one else, even as she neglected to contact him for weeks at a time. He would surely think this was a rebellious act. He wouldn't consider that she was in danger and even if he did, she was certain that the Underworld would not be on his list of places to search.

As they walked, the girl adjusted her bow and quiver so that it sat on the outside of the jacket. Noticing his sideways glare, she looked at him, "I'm not so stupid to try and attack the one thing that's keeping me alive." The girl's voice held unease. Part of her considered the words that left her to be a lie, she would attack him if it came with the guarantee he would die with a single blow. Unfortunately, the guarantee seemed thin and she was curious as to what his plans were for her. Torture? Slavery? She could have laughed at the thoughts. None were terrifying enough to bring even a minor thrill.

But, he had the upper hand, she knew that. She relied on him for life. It was an awful feeling. Twigs crunched beneath her feet and she looked around like a curious child, noticing the outlines of almost invisible spirits. They seemed hungry, eyeing her like a snack. She shuffled closer to the demon, her arm nudging his. A shaky, breath escaped her. She wasn't afraid to be close to him but, her teeth stayed on edge, the silent walk felt intimate. Azriel was reminded of the dancing again. Part of her wished she had been sober for it, perhaps then it would have been more enjoyable.

Slowly, Azriel reached her hands into the empty pockets of the jacket. It looked more like a dress than a jacket on her small form. "Your clothes are comfy, can I keep this?" She grinned slightly. Why was she relaxing with him? "Its nice to keep a memento of a hunt," she quickly added, "But I find a skin rug far too grotesque." She had disregarded his soft murmur as it made her squirm slightly but chose to address it after he neglected to respond, "There's nothing particularly interesting about me. All hunters have a similar story, yes? Family member or a friend got murdered so they joined the Protection Agency..Blah, blah blah." She rolled her eyes. A pause hung in the air; she ran her fingers through her braid, pulling her red hair out, a sigh of relief escaped her and she ran her fingers through the strands. The path in front of her never seemed to get clearer, she hated not knowing where they were going. What was he going to do with her? The questions sat on the tip of her tongue but she refused to ask them. It would make him suspect she was scared of the unknown.

It soon became clear that she did not like the silence of the Underworld. The voices in her head grew more insistent the more quiet the world around them seemed. After several minutes of walking, Azriel looked at him, "You want to play a game? You like games, no?" She saw a flicker of interest cross his eyes, "I ask you one question about yourself-not anything about where we are going..just you and you can do the same."

She took his silence as an agreement and tilted her head. "Who killed you...When you were human...Wait no! How did you die when you were human?" There was a slight eagerness in her voice. There was nothing he could ask her in comparison that would be as interesting. This was a game she could win.

Veteris had never been truly comfortable. Not that he could ever remember. Demons didn’t relax, or unwind, or kick their shoes off and wrap themselves in a warm blanket and drink a cup of coffee. Theirs was an existence of high-strung excitement and revulsion and sadistic joy. Still, this was the closest feeling to being comfortable that he knew as they dropped through the portal and into his domain. The ghastly fog sat on his skin and the ash in the air resonated with him.

Demons don’t pretend their realm is enjoyable. Even they don’t take pleasure in it, uncast and unclean beings that they are. But at least here, they rule supreme and can submerge in the evil spirit that hangs over the Underworld. They don’t have to see things like joy or happiness, those moods that burn their eyes.

For a human, the girl seemed to be doing remarkably well in this evil dimension. He’d seen humans here before, but their minds often buckled under the pressure. She even smiled. Hunting ground, though? He almost felt bad for her. Almost.

But not enough to keep her by his side, and as she stepped away, he saw the ghost flames begin to congregate on her body. She couldn’t see the specters that clouded around her, greedily gnawing at her bright life force. They would not approach her with Veteris nearby, but outside the sphere of his aura, the girl was like a walking buffet. She collapsed, and he turned his head from side to side, eyeing the approaching spirit flames. More were coming, drawn to the radiance coming from her form. The sadist in him wanted to draw it out, but realistically she wouldn’t last more than a few minutes, and if anyone was going to kill her, it was going to be him and not the wretched, starving specters of the Underworld. He stepped forward, his long legs striding across the burnt, foul ground until he was standing over her. With a quiet, deadly expression, he turned his scorching eyes on the ghosts around them, the demon’s wrath reflected in their terrified, hollow visages. They tore themselves from her and fled.

He watched her, head tilted to one side, as she struggled to fill her lungs with air and rise. "I guess you took my breath away.”

An extremely un-demonic snort came from him before he could stifle it, and he brought his hand up to his face to hide his laughter, pretending instead that he was moving his bang out of his eyes. “Really?” He tried to keep his voice steady, hoping she didn’t notice the slight unevenness to it. “Puns?”

He saw her hand reach out for him, but he didn’t reach back. He didn’t want to go through those feelings again, not like the last time she grabbed his hand. Instead, seeing her shiver, he unzipped his jacket and draped the heavy woven fabric over her shoulders. “Sorry about the rip. Some foolish girl tried to gut me and failed miserably.” He adjusted his undershirt, making sure the sleeves were rolled down. For some reason, he didn’t want her to see the numerous scars, burns and disfigurements littered across his body. He let her rise to her feet without offering his hand.

“Well, if you’re going to die, I figured I wanted to be the one to get to do it,” he admitted without hesitation, letting his voice slip back into the soft murmur that seemed to throw her off guard. “But, I guess I thought you were a little interesting. Humans are so predictable, you know. But you have a little spunk to you, at least. And as to what I’ll do with you…I guess you’ll have to find out, huh? It’s not like I have to tell you anything, hunter.”

He jerked his head and started walking through the twisted, eerie trees, not waiting for her. She trotted after him, and they moved in silence through the wood. Malevolence was thick in the air. Veteris knew how she must feel—skin prickling, with a sense of things watching her—and although he showed no sign of concern, his eyes were alert and he didn’t relax. A lovely thing like her was a tempting target for any of the foul creatures that resided here, and although demons were generally feared and avoided by all the weaker ghoulish horrors, some of them were dumb enough that they might try their luck.

Ash sat like coffin lids on her eyes, fixed, heavy and dark as the heat from their bodies evaporated. Her ears rang like funeral bells and she spluttered and coughed, weakened by the travelling. In her moment of blindness, Veteris took advantage, wrestling the demon blade from her locked fingers. She tried to yell in dismay but no sound came out. Her other arm was still pinned against her back; she could feel him behind her and instinctively allowed herself to lean against him for support.

Almost as soon as her eyes managed to open, she felt a disturbing feeling nudging at her mind like someone was dripping acid into it. A morbid sense of dis-belonging that revealed itself in the form of a constant ache throughout her physical and psychological being. Unwelcome whispers tickled her ears, as playful as a knife between the fingers. She swallowed hard, her knees giving way a little. What were the voices saying? They were too incoherent to focus on yet too loud to completely ignore.

Irritated tears escaped her eyes, clearing them of any debris that remained. They were standing in an elusive forest where fog clung to the naked and vulnerable trees. The fog was so thick she struggled to see their feet beneath them. Everything had an eerie hue, almost purple in colour. Purple was a colour Azriel would normally associate with lightning but here, it was gloomy, vengeful and discomforting. Azriel could see, if she peered enough the outline of a path stretched out before them. Every so often, there were patches of fire that neglected to burn anything around them.

He couldn't have. He wouldn't have taken her to the Underworld. Here she would be an infestation and he would be the cause? Why would he willingly drag the so-called Scarlet Hunter, successful demon slayer in all aspects to his home? "Y-you can make use of me?" She stammered as he released her arm. The girl lowered it slowly; the tightness of the burn on her shoulder caused her teeth to rattle with discomfort. "You can give me fear? You've brought me to a hunting ground. This is a predators paradise." He had raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk across his lips. Why was he giving her a chance to run?

Curiously, she stepped away from him, one, two, three paces and an unmistakable cold crept over her skin. Even as she walked towards the flames, she felt nothing but ice slowly and tortuously creeping up her fingers. How could she have felt so hot before and was now shivering? A series of whimpers escaped her, teeth rattling. Breathing in deeply, Azriel tried to calm herself but, there was no longer any air. She gasped desperately, holding her throat with one hand. Did the Underworld not have enough oxygen to sustain her?

As she moved to walk again, her knees gave way beneath her and she fell into the fog trembling. Had the demon brought her here to die? If so, choking and freezing to death was a rather boring way to go-even in the world of spirits. Azriel sucked in instinctively, nails digging into the textured dirt beneath her. Then suddenly, her air returned and she gasped like someone who'd just broke the surface of water.

There was nothing but the sound of her shivering and gasping for air. She turned her head to see Veteris standing over her; a grin plastered across his face. 'The bastard' she thought with a grim hatred. "I guess you took my breath away," she sneered sarcastically, Although, the tease wasn't as prominent with her ragged rasping, she hoped he would appreciate her attempt to make light of the situation. Her hand reached out, almost wanting his touch again but, this time it was for her life and not just out of sadistic curiosity. "Do you have a blanket?" She joked still trembling. A pause hung in the air. "You're the thing keeping me alive," she stated, "Why would you want me alive? So many want me dead."

Perhaps Azriel had been wrong. She wasn't the predator this time. She was a piece of prey who had just fallen into the nest of ravenous monsters...

She knew how to use holy symbols. Of course; why was he surprised? It was one of the most dangerous methods a human could use to fight a demon, but it was also very effective. He moved to destroy it as quickly as he could, not wanting to find a gaping hole in his chest. “You think peace is useless? Wrong, wrong, little girl. It is dangerous. I fight the forces that would bring peace, because peace brings love, love powers humans, and humans with power like that are a horrible sight to demonkind. We fear peace like your kind fears carnage.”

He tried to duck the lid, but she used the pause to nearly embed her knife in him. “Really? You think they look good?” He glanced down at his clothes where she had ripped them, exposing some of his scarred torso. “Ah, so did I. Too bad.”

What a strange woman. “You want to know where I come from?” His laugh was hollow. “Be careful what you wish for, wild thing. I’m not sure you would like it there. In fact, you could not. It is the antithesis of life.”

He was standing in front of her, prepared to deflect another blow, when she took his hand and held it to her throat. The tenderness in the way she moved caught him off guard and he had to struggle to keep his expression blank as she moved it to her neck, although he couldn’t keep his eyes from betraying the conflicting feelings that raced through him. The excitement of being so close to a kill. The wonder at her boldness. The surprising hesitation that he felt to exploit the opening she was offering him. Her hand was so much smaller than his, but equally rough and scarred. It was warm, and he could feel the heat from her neck.

He was never very good with time, but he was sure that he must have stood there, immobile, for a long pause. Not moving his hand closer, but not drawing away.

He had to regain the upper hand before she decided to take advantage of his stillness. “Why do you find it frightening?” His confusion vanished off his face like it had never been, replaced with a cunning look. “Surely it’s not the fact that I could destroy you in the blink of an eye. One like you is not afraid of death. What do you fear, then? Is it your human nature that scares you? The urge that you have to reach out and try to find the good in anyone?” It was not without remorse that he pulled his hand from hers, but there was no sign of regret on his face. “Are you afraid that if you make yourself vulnerable, no one will come to your rescue?”

Quickly, he roughly grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, forcing her close to him. “It’s a shame I can’t possess you,” he admitted freely. “You would make an enjoyable toy. Unfortunately, we can only control the weak-willed. But I can make use of you, Miss Azriel. If you want fear, I can give that to you.”

Summoning his unholy energy into his body, Veteris reached out with his mind and pulled on the spirit world. The spirit world was immovable, fixed, so by definition, pulling on it would make it pull on you. The familiar heat and smoke enveloped him, the gray, ghastly fire rushed past, and Veteris and Azriel disappeared from the mortal realm in a violent explosion of hellfire.

Spluttering in pain, Azriel clutched her shoulder with her hand. His blood did hurt and almost gleefully so. She felt as though he had ignited a fire onto her skin, even in the darkness she could see the sweltering red colour as her blood had risen to the surface. "Who told you I wanted to change the ways of life?" She scoffed unimpressed but, the pain in her voice prevented her words from sounding unique. "I don't care about the ways of life, I don't attempt to change the future," she leaned against the wall a little for support, forcing her shoulder against the cold bricks in an attempt to cool her wound. She was disappointed he'd shoved her away; part of her rather enjoyed feeling his unnatural heart and hearing his voice.

A sizzling sound hit her ears, followed by the putrid smell of her own flesh. She ignored it, though her nose crinkled in disgust. "You think I am like other hunters? You think I want to vanquish the world of demons as some kind of necessary revenge?" She laughed, though the thought of her parents began to rise. A flicker of discomfort crossed her eyes. "I like the thrill of the hunt...I like to chase and to be chased; living the neurotically life of a human...growing old, getting married, having kids? It leads to a boring death. Peace and pleasantries are useless." The words dripped from her lips like acid. It was strange, even Azriel couldn't distinguish what was a lie and what was the truth. Perhaps she truly was becoming a new version of herself...Not the little girl who was made to watch her family die.

All whilst she was talking, Azriel had sunk her knife into her shoulder, breaking the skin until blood soaked her fingertips. She knew there were symbols one could use to trap a demon or at least slow them down. The effect of the symbol varied depending on the demon's power and it wasn't a method she liked to use often. But sometimes, demons were too elusive and needed to stay still. In the case of Veteris, Azriel just wanted a still target.

Her hands moved quick to painting. the symbol on the wall, using her blood as her medium but, Veteris wasn't stupid. He'd shot forwards and sliced his fingers through the painting destroying it. Azriel stumbled a little, adrenaline ran through her veins. There went plan B. In all honesty, she rather liked the feeling of someone being strong enough both mentality and physically to overcome her. It was tiring always being the best. "Well done," she mused. Slipping behind her, her hand grasped around the lid of a rubbish bin and she threw it at his head, slicing with her knife at the same time but only catching fabric, slicing through the clothes she had adored.

"Ah.. I liked those-" she whined stepping back a little. Her neck tilted, pink scratches of scars curved under her chin. It was clear Veteris wasn't the first demon who had come to kill her. "We aren't so different you know," she breathed. "We both kill for the same reasons, we both enjoy being hunted and hunting things. Thats what makes me more interesting than the others... I want to go to the heart of where you come from."

The underworld was somewhat of an interest to her, it was a whole new world, new territory she hadn't explored. She imagined the adrenaline rush she would get from being in such a disfavourable habitat. Of course no human had gone there before. It was impossible.

Nevertheless she held Veteris' gaze,"you're the only one who comes close to scaring me...Its rather the thrill. I'm almost tempted to let you have the upperhand." She reached out, taking his hand with a tenderness, and held it at her throat. "This is almost frightening"

She was fast. Although his expression didn’t change, he was startled and barely brought up his hand in time to stop the blow. His eyes widened slightly at the pain of a fresh wound (how long had it been since someone had made him bleed?) as he shoved her against the dirty, ancient wall of the alleyway. Impressive. “I don’t make a habit of running, unlike some of my kind.” He pressed his bleeding hand hard against her shoulder, sinister appreciation thrumming in his bones at the way she winced in agony. She spat at him, and he made a quick movement to wipe the saliva from his face, but he brought his hand back down in time to block an attempt to stab his chest.

“It’s rude to try to kill someone; I’d say you’re in no place to lecture me on manners.” His even, quiet voice betrayed none of his excitement at being so close to her. The faint smell of burnt skin make him sick with delight. Demons are never bored, but it had been a long time since he had been on a high like this. Her fluttering heart pounded out a furious noise in the alleyway, echoing in the silence. It made him feel like he was alive. Poor humans, who never felt this thrill. It was intoxicating to hunt, be hunted. It was joy to him to see the pain in her eyes. He leaned in closer, his gaze bearing down on her. “You’re not so nice either, Miss Azriel.” They were close now, even closer than that dance. Unlike the dance, she was fully aware and glaring at him with wide and furious eyes that would have frightened a mortal man. Her struggle was pointless—he was strong enough to keep her small frame against the wall with one hand.

The monstrous glee inside of him was churning like a thunderstorm. There was no point in dragging this out—he wanted to see her blood right now. Wanted to cover his hand in crimson. He brought up his other hand to rip into her exposed neck, but her arm swung out and slashed, knocking it away. This time, his clothes protected him from a second fierce wound. She was good. He needed to remember that her reflexes were better than most. No quick and easy kill, then. He would have to throw her off guard. “Why do you fight it?” He let his tone drop into a seductive murmur. “You try so hard to stay alive. What has this world ever done for you?”

She looked up at him, and he thought he could see a flicker of unease in her eyes. He bent his head over her, pinning her with his stare. “That’s the mistake each one of you makes, you know. Thinking that your noble struggles are enough to change the evil nature of life. I’ve seen it over and over again.” He smirked and shrugged as if to sympathize, watching her face carefully.

Her bright, burning eyes were hazel.

He blinked. What kind of a thought was that? As he adjusted his right hand, fresh blackness welled up, dripping down her shirt. Smoke wafted up and past them. Their gazes both turned to it, and Veteris found himself glowering.

“It’s foul, isn’t it?” he hissed, momentarily losing the teasing edge to his voice. “It burns, doesn’t it? My blood is tainted and sickening. It is poison to you, you with your life and your living soul. You who live so heedlessly. I have nothing but hate for your kind.” He shoved her away, across the wall, putting distance between them. He needed to remind himself—no, he needed to remind her of the difference between them.

Bitter anger replaced the giddy bloodlust. Why would he feel like he had to do that? Veteris was different than so many of his kind; they envied him for his ability to pass as human and his confidence to walk among the prey. He was used to using the compassion of humans against them, driving them to madness, never caring what illusions they held about his nature. He glowered at her as if his unholy resentment could melt her into the ground, and sank into a hunter’s crouch, feet spread apart and long hands spread as if to claw. He said nothing. Maybe he didn’t know what would come out if he opened his mouth.

"I used to think demons were terrifying," she corrected with a firm look. Her head swam again at the sight of him; her memory hadn't been kind to her that night and all she remembered was his fathomless eyes. Since then, she'd neglected even a single drop of alcohol. Azriel was convinced he'd put her off for life. He was even taller now than last time, the eighteen year old hadn't realised that he would tower over her quite so much and she swallowed a little. Of course his lanky looks were deceiving. Behind the somewhat stick-like appearance held a creature with unimaginable power. A power in which even Azriel had to admit could easily overcome her in seconds.

However, she knew he liked to play games and she intended to keep him entertained, if not for her own life then for the selfish desire to continue to the conversation. "The fear evaporates when you have killed so many..one hundred, two, they all melt into a blur." She spoke with a callous tone, still twirling her knife. "Of course, I do prefer the bow- it's a weapon that ensure's I'm not hit by the corrosive ink your kind calls blood." A pause hung in the air. She tilted her head like a lost puppy.

"A low opinion is a generic term for my opinion of your kind," she mused with a smile. "I find you far more...interesting. You don't run out of fear." She lifted the bottom of his grey clothes with the knife, "I have to say, its quite pleasant to see a demon that can dress nice. I get bored of seeing plain black robes and red eyes all the time." It was true, Azriel liked all things new. Often she would complain to Sirius about finding even the toughest of hunts to be tedious and boring.

Veteris was different. That made her nervous.

She shook her head, a little concerned with her ramblings. Azriel had always had an eye for detail, she appreciated architecture and the way things were built to climb and art for the way it told the history of the world but, fashion...It was far more personal. She could judge a person by what they wore and he dressed with pride and confidence. It was a familiar sight to see but, she wondered whether his confidence was genuine or a deceitful web of lies like herself.

"How do I plan to kill you?" She repeated the question, snapping back to the stoic hunter persona as though it was second nature. He didn't need to see soft glimpses of her. It would make her weak. "I guess," she looked down at her knife, "this will do." Azriel moved quick to slash at his chest with her demon blade but, he moved quicker lifting his palm to block the blow. Instead, the knife ripped along his palm. Quickly, the girl tried to back away but, he was relentless and grabbed her shoulder pressing her against the wall. She spluttered in pain as his cut palm burned through the fabric of her uniform and began to spread like fire through the skin below her collar bone.

"Its rude to burn through a girl's clothes without asking," she spat at him, the spit hitting his cheek and squirmed as the tears of pain reached her eyes trying to dislodge his hands through gritted teeth.

Surely, his kind would call him foolish. Demons played with their food, of course, but they did it once the victim had lost all faith and the hope of seeing tomorrow had faded from their expression. Right now he should be either bearing down for the kill or disappearing from the vicinity, leaving her talking to the wind. Still, he stayed. How many times had they gone through this charade? Four times? Seven? But this would be the most they had ever talked. The memory of that dance still played in his mind.

She had been tall in the heels, but his lanky form still gave him a few inches over her. They had swayed back and forth to the music, some soft piano piece. To others, he was sure that they looked like a bashful couple. She was surprisingly graceful for someone who seemed two shots away from being blackout drunk. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, though, which he found mildly irritating. Was she afraid, or was she keeping her huntress wits about her even in this condition? Even with a few inches between them, he could feel the pounding of her human heart. When they had finally stepped apart, he half-expected her to come lunging for him like she had when they first met, eyes full of iron, but instead she had taken several steps, a grim expression on her face, and then stumbled. His hand had shot out to steady her elbow, not gripping as tightly as when he had grabbed her wrist, and they stood there. She had blinked, once, and then the hidden knife had swung out.

He couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his mouth, and he had leapt back just in time to avoid a swing. “Was I that bad of a dancer?” His mocking tone seems to urge her on, and they danced their way out of the party and up a roof. Well…he had danced. She had faltered and stumbled her way after him, which he would have found amusing if she hadn’t been so persistent. He had left her on the roof and vanished into the dark, still chuckling, when something that had been nagging in the back of his mind all evening finally occurred to him. He hadn’t killed a single person. His evening, which was going to be full of luring and tearing and ripping, had gone completely off track from what he had planned. It surprised him how little he minded. Maybe his hunter instincts had been too focused on the woman. Maybe it was the dress. The shine of her hair still shone in his eyes.

That was not the last time they had met, but none of the other times had been so quiet. He remembered how strangely calm he had felt, for being in the presence of someone who had the power to destroy him. It had almost felt like a truce of sorts, a pause in the game.

“Ah, yes…” he agreed. “Your throat. I will enjoy tearing it open.”

A thrill went through him hearing her speak his name. He had given it to her as they had danced, but he hadn’t expected her to remember it. Of course, he already knew hers. Azriel. The stalker-woman. The scarlet hunter. Her name was circulated in the underworld as one who was to be avoided. Demons had no love for each other, but survival was a necessity to any species.

“Mean? Yes. There’s a good word. Malevolent would work too. I’m also cruel, and a bit of a sadist. Some might even call me…despicable. Of course, I’m sure you have the lowest opinion of one such as myself.” Her bright smile, as false as it was, drew him out into the moonlight. “And I’m flattered you think me terrifying. How do you plan on killing me?” Her tease was amusing, but his ire wasn’t ignited. She would hardly call him gentle if she had seen the things he had done. The grey, heavy fabrics he wore disguised innumerable scars-- mostly from other demons. A few from (now dead) demon hunters. He stood before her, motionless as a statue, lit by the terrible moon. “Well, Azriel?”

At his voice, Azriel felt a mixture of success and nervousness crawl up her back; she moved her shoulders in an effort to shift the discomfort somewhere else. His voice seemed to be everywhere yet somehow nowhere. She moved back and forth quickly determined to ensure he wouldn't catch her off-guard like he had done at the party.

As one often might at parties, Azriel had consumed enough alcohol that night to make her a little more slurred than usual. It was an uncommon occurrence but one she had enjoyed a handful of times before. Alcohol tended to be a great way to numb her- albeit physically. It managed to make her permanently tight muscles relax. There was no running, no climbing over buildings, no firing arrows into the hearts of those that bled black. It was almost a relaxing experience to become so...human. Nowadays she was more hunter than human. The two words were usually synonymous but, Azriel knew her hunting persona was just a very convincing character. Unfortunately, alcohol made her more sluggish and clumsy, adjectives she would prefer not to be associated with.

She'd been mask-less and clad in a red skater dress when she'd tumbled back into him after losing her footing dancing. It had been clear that the heels she had opted to wear were a stranger compared to the boots she adorned in the alleyway. There was a sense of unfamiliarity when she walked that revealed itself in the occasional clumsy wobble. Azriel was certain after seeing his face that she was going to die. Yet, she hadn't been afraid of dying at the time (an effect of the alcohol she supposed). The girl had been more afraid at her powerlessness. She was always used to having the upper hand. Even now she didn't know whether their meeting was unintentional. Fortunately, he hadn't opted to kill her that night; perhaps he felt it was unfair to do so whilst she was temporarily weakened. Azriel wasn't going to pretend she understood the mind of her prey.

Instead, he had lead them to dance, watching the distrust and fear that crept into her eyes. Azriel's head recoiled at the memory of his tightened fist moving from her wrist to her hand and his other leading her opposing hand to his shoulder. She couldn't remember if they'd spoken further. All she recalled was an unusual fondness of the intimacy of the dance. It was nice hunting something that wasn't afraid to be so close. It kept her interested.

Of course, she hadn't told her uncle Sirius about seeing the demon again. He'd already lectured her enough for sneaking out to gatecrash a party. Before the demon had arrived, it had been a pretty dull event. She was certain he wouldn't find the idea of the dance quite so entertaining but, he was normal. There was something beautiful about being so close that you can feel the life force of your enemy against your own. She recalled his chest beating a lot more calmly than her own.

The night had ended with the most sickening chase. It was slow and he would stop only a few feet away from her to allow her to drunkenly stumble after him, up the first wall to the roof but, her balance wasn't what it normally was and she tripped and laid across the cool ceramic, 'you win this time... But only because if I run anymore I'll fall to my death.'

She shook her head at the memory, embarrassment pushed at the front of her mind but was replaced with anxiousness at his comment. "Youd like your hands around my throat im sure," she teased raising her scarred eyebrows. Though, her words were quiet, almost as if she was unsure of her taunting. She cleared her throat, "I can take off the mask, Veteris." Her tone cold but pitched a little higher in a mixture of excitement and unease. "Even with a lovely face, I can still kill you." True to her word, she stripped of her mask, the cooling air refreshing her skin and tossed it to the ground with a harsh disregard. "Things that appear fragile are sometimes deceiving... Sometimes things that appear terrifying, like you are actually as gentle as a kitten." She laughed, "Are you too afraid to come close if I'm sober?" She teased with a childish grin plastered across her face. "Is that why you made me chase you across the rooftops? You're mean." She pouted, she smile never leaving her lips.

Deep in the shadows, the monster grinned.

The stark ivory of her skin made her stand out against the dull and dark rubbish heaps in the alleyway— did she really think she was blending in? To his eerie eyes, she stood out like the ghastly moon in the sky.

“You deserve…?,” he laughed, keeping his voice low and nearly indiscernible. “You’re lucky I haven’t dragged my fingernails across your throat yet.” Wraithlike, he moved without a sound through the darkness that draped the alley as she turned. For all his disdain, he noted her practiced and fluid movement with something bordering on begrudging respect. This one was no powerless prey. Her eyes had bitter iron in them, and her head moved like a huntsman. If she was a demon, he would have been afraid. But she was human, and therefore he knew how she was tragically vulnerable. Like all of them, she was weighed down by invisible chains, haunted by undying ghosts. They cared so much, humankind. Cared with all their weak and fragile hearts. So much that even those who tried to shed their humanity, like this one, and don the heart of a predator, still had scars that made them flinch. If you knew the right way to hit them, right in their weakness, they would crumble. He had done it before. This one was the same as all the rest. If he could find that place where her heart still bled, he could rip her apart.

“Why are you wearing that mask?” he crooned. “Surely I’ve seen your charming face enough times. It’s a shame to cover it up. Or are you afraid to be lovely? Convinced that somehow you can make yourself stronger if you pretend you aren’t a fragile girl?”

His mind flashed back to the second time they had met, an experience that still brought a hunter’s grin to his mouth. That had been a delight. It had been some time(days? Weeks? He can never keep those two straight…) since he had first faced off with her in a whirling, fast-paced chase. He had been mingling in a crowd during a late-night party, eyeing the masses and singling out the weakest ones (not physically weak. Human strength made little difference to a demon. No, he sought out the ones who’s eyes were like sheep, or the ones who cowered and apologized at the slightest offence) to lure away and destroy. He had sauntered through a particularly dense pack of humans, hands in his pockets, dressed in light browns and blacks and wearing a pointedly blank expression when she had bumped right into him. Unlike the first time, when she had been clad in the obscuring, unflattering garb of a hunter, she was bare-faced and wearing clothes that made her seem more soft and breakable. They froze for a long, long second (or was it a minute?). Something like surprise had been on her face. His revealed nothing, though he was surprised too. It was a delightful surprise, like he imagined a human would feel upon finding a hundred-dollar-bill on the sidewalk. A smile had spread over his face, all teeth and edge and cruelty. ‘Well, well,’ he had murmured. In a moment, all surprise had vanished from her face and she had reached to her leg, like she was going to draw a weapon, but his arm had flashed out and gripped her wrist. His crushing hold had made her wince. ‘How many people would die here if you decided to attack me?’ His voice never rose, but his hand tightened. ‘Do you want me to give you a precise number? I can.’

Name: Dan (commonly known to humans as Veteris)

Age: Somewhere between twenty-two and forever.

Species: Demon

Family. Warmth. A sunny afternoon sitting on a dock and dangling your legs in the water. How long has it been since any of that mattered? He doesn’t know, really. But the life he lives is full of thrills and flashy danger, and he doesn’t stop long enough to wonder if there was ever anything else. Some people believe that demons are a few humans unlucky enough to be murdered and cling on to life so tightly that they reincarnate into a demonic form, but he doesn’t believe that. His memory stretches back to eternity, and he can see what it was like when the great darkness stretched over all.

Veteris is a demon, and he lives for two things. First is the thrill of the chase, the beauty of the hunt. He doesn’t eat humankind, but that doesn’t stop him from killing. Second is the color that fills the veins of humankind. Scarlet. Demons have no blood, nothing that isn’t foul darkness pumping through them. Others of his brood find Veteris’ appreciate for red bizarre, but he considers it an extension of his demonhood. After all, isn’t it their duty to spill that striking color across the ground, killing, killing and never resting until the world is covered in red?

He loves playing, too, and maybe that’s why he hasn’t yet made a particular effort to confront and destroy the hunter that’s been on his tail for the past few weeks. Or maybe he’s just bored, and needs distraction. Whatever the reason, he hasn’t raised a handful of hellfire against her yet.

Expertise: Hunting humankind. Demons have many lethal skills at their disposal, including supernatural strength and senses. They’re not much faster than the average human, but in a pinch can summon their demonic powers to apparate from the area. This and their ability to summon black hellfire are extremely draining, however, so most rely on their brute strength and eerie senses to give them the edge over their prey. They prefer the night, the time when their power is strongest and the primal fear of darkness lies over the land. Only the truly skilled can match them in hand-to-hand combat. The black poison in their veins is corrosive to the touch.

Azriel’s breath was violently quiet as she crept down the darkened alley after the demon. Her hands shook with the thought that they were once again this close together and her mind swam with the memories of his voice; his flirtatious but melancholic words that were designed to piss her off filling her mind. The girl shook her head at the thought, loose strands of her hair falling out of her braid. She had to admit that chasing this demon wasn't the most comfortable affair, her mask made it incredibly uncomfortable to breathe and the heat on her skin from chasing him sweltered even in the cool night's air. Of course, the mask was entirely pointless now, he'd seen her face so many times, but, the principle remained. She wasn't about to act like he was better than the other demons she'd captured and gutted. He wasn't special...At least that's what Azriel told herself.

Many back at headquarters described the relationship between the two as an unhealthy game of cat and mouse. Sometimes Azriel would have to agree, all these months of temperamental chasing and hunting had left her feeling grossly attached to the thought of finding him again. She'd never come across a creature she couldn't kill with ease. But, he was different; he was cunning, and more methodical than most. Somehow, he always managed to slip through Azriel's fingers like smoke. She shook her head again. He was going to pay tonight.

He had to pay, she could almost taste the vengeance on her tongue. Thoughts of her mother and father reached her but, she pushed them away with a grotesque disregard. Thinking about her family only brought back memories of their deaths. A painting of her mother's severed jaw screaming out in pain seemed ingrained into her mind held back by the distraction of hunting. These were tedious distractions built like a dam to stop her grief from swallowing her. If she allowed her mind to wander, the girl could envision her father's contorted limbs as he was twisted and tortured all for sickened pleasure. She sighed shakily. The darkness and temptation to let herself relive that night could not win. All there was, all there had to be was Azriel and the hunt.

The black utility outfit she wore was perfect for the darkness, it provided her with the ability to run across roof tops with ease but it was stark contrast with her pale skin. A bow tapped comfortingly against her spine, she'd always preferred the long ranged weapons but he never allowed her the luxury of attacking him from afar. It was far too impersonal for his tastes. Azriel didn't mind, she wanted to see him, to see that she'd beaten him. Perhaps, she even n wanted him to be impressed with her never ending efforts.

The demon blade in her small hand sat comfortably as she moved down the alleyway. Lamps twinkled in the distance with a sickly yellow light, licking the ground in which they stood on with contempt. Slowly, Azriel pursed her lips behind the mask, brown eyes scanning the surroundings but finding nothing. However, she knew he was here. She could almost feel him laughing at her; her spine tingled with apprehension. Above her head shone thr moon, hanging like a withering corpse from the noose of the night. The moon was one of the only things Azriel found truely beautiful but there was no time to stare and marvel in its beauty. Behind her, bins rattled teasingly and she almost jumped at the feeling of her foot falling into a puddle.

"Stop playing games and come out of the shadows. I want to see your eyes when my blade finds your throat." She sneered, twirling her knife between her fingers, "The least I deserve for my tracking efforts is to see your face dont you think?"