Ren-ka

 The young boy sat crosslegged on the cracked ground. Darkness swept about him in thin wisps and eddies, but his eyes were closed and he paid no attention to it. He was darkness - It held no fear for him. And in the darkness, he'd find what he was looking for. Nicholas stood some distance back, watching Saergun silently. He had doubts about this plan, he felt it would erase a lot of progress. No, he knew it would. Then again, their 'progress' had been negligible, from a certain view. Saergun said that the conflict and resorting of power had been needed, but circumstances changed, and some things in storage were needed. One element had bee

 Dragons and angels are classic foes. The Bible is peppered with comments calling Lucifer a dragon. Ergo, angels constantly strive against him. What most people seem to disregard is that Lucifer was an angel first. His species didn't change just because he got in bad with the boss. The holiest angels are dragons, too. Dragons and dragons are classic foes. They're territorial buggers; of course they fight. Merlin once used this fact to tremendous effect as a child. In my limited experience with them, however, they seem to find it distasteful, and would never kill another dragon. It's rare for a dragon to kill another dragon, is what I'm dr

Possession is a terribly odd feeling for the possess-ee. It may be strange for the possessor, too - I wouldn't know. But the night that the god-dragon came to me, I learned a great many things, all of them overshadowed by that singular fact, that the whole situation was fucking weird. We had met before, he and I, though I never remembered the events afterward. I gathered what I knew of him though what he left. Once, it was a long, rambling, and wholly cryptic text file, other times, it was logs of conversations with people. I could tell this time was going to be different from the moment I felt his creeping, alien awareness behind my eyes.

"My, you look pissed. Some demon get in your way? Eh? Eh? Another one bites the-" "Can it. We're leaving." Nicholas popped the car door perhaps a bit more forcefully then was strictly neccessary, and flopped into the seat. He was aware that his movements were slightly overwrought, but he was pissed. Lucifer's comments made no sense. A torturer who'd delighted in the simple power of cruelty was sent to heaven, and a dissident soldier was trapped for eternity? Realizing what he was thinking, he quickly righted himself. Lucifer was a friend of his, but he was also far more then a 'dissident soldier'. Perhaps blasphemy on Lucifer's scale was si

"Nicholas... Nicholas, my favorite little sunbeam. It's been ages." Nicholas coughed, suppressing bile as he looked upon Lucifer. The sight never wore thin. "Hello, Lucifer. How have you been?" "Oh, what a foolish question, Nicholas. You need no answer." Indeed, he didn't. One need only behold the Lord of Hell to have a transcendent knowledge of torment. Nicholas sometimes wondered how Lucifer himself felt, but usually decided that was an unhealthy line of thought. "You've been punishing more evildoers, haven't you? What a good boy, Nicholas. Satan should be more thankful..." Nicholas bit his lip, and with a brief instant to steel his w

"And another one does, another one does, another one bites-" "Don't you ever get sick of that song?" "Not really. Should I? It's got a good beat." The seraph snorted irritably, while marveling at the power of his master's chosen sons. Human imagination had summoned up the spectre before him. Death was currently taking the image that a new bestseller had made for him. He was wearing a brown bowler cap, and his face was a shapeless void with two little spots of nova-bright light for eyes, all over a suit that screamed stereotyped 'Limey'. And that damn song. It had been a little spot of the author's imagination to have Death love 'Another on

'Six...?' I stared at the clock uncomprehendingly, briefly wondering if that was AM or PM. There was a few seconds of blessed emptiness as I pondered this fact, then I slowly realized it was dark. AM, then. I never woke up this early. I must have gone to bed really early, too. Left alone, I tended to sleep for about twelve hours... That meant I fell asleep around - ! The recollection hit me at a rush, as these things do. I pitched over the side of the bed, and had just enough time to be thankful for easily cleaned hardwood before images of bone and flesh spraying outward inverted my stomach. I coughed quietly as I finished vomiting, then cr

'Six!' I scowled at the clock as if it was at fault for me having to work overtime. I debated mentally if two hours was sufficent, and the same little voice that had told me that crude humor would be a good idea also thought that two was more then sufficent. Again, knowing better, I agreed, and packed up. I didn't get out of the office until 6:20, five minutes after the bus had passed. I debated standing in the cold for the next route, but did some quick math to establish that not only would it take longer to get home if I waited for the bus, but I had decent odds of having to ride the Dead Hobo Line again. That was a bit more then I could

Six! I came awake with a scream and a short descent to the floor. There was a moment of confusion as my brain sorted out where I was, and I dropped my cheek to the cool hardwood. The sensation pierced my sweat-soaked skin, and I slowly relaxed. 'Six. Sixsixsix...' My brain rattled around the numeral as it slowly dispensed of my REM hallucinations. 'Six what? Six WHITE. White. What was white? How can a number be white...?' With that question, I fell asleep again, and would forget the dream until the following evening. In the morning, I gave only a brief wondering as to why I was on the floor before I realized that my alarm had been going of