Lips Of An Angel

N/A · 07-16-2013, 01:44 PM

Demyan never got tired. Ever. He settled down to sleep for the night, but that was only because his body needed the rest. But never because he was bone tired. Well tonight was the exception. He was so fucking tired, it was incredible that he could still keep his eyes open to even look at Orica. She murmured his name back to him, a yawn breaking afterwards as her eyes became droopy, just like his were. He could see a smile ghosting over her ivory lips, the first he had ever seen from her. Surely that had to mean something, right? Had he been more awake he would've been able to distinguish it, but his sleep-deprived mind was screaming at him to go to sleep. It wasn't up for the simple task of dissecting the marbled girl's smile. And he was more than willing to comply. Grey lids fluttered closed over cyan gems, audits falling flat against his skull as his breaths became more even, the first signs that he was falling asleep. But right before he drifted off, one last little sentence slipped from Orica's lips, bringing his eyes to crack open to glance at her. Doesn't sound like the name of a bad guy. It doesn't sound like the name of a bad guy. How would she know what kind of names bad guys had? The gargantuan stared at the little nymph for several moments, watching the steady rising and falling of her ivory chest. He was shocked and in awe that such a young thing could see him, the most cruel of bastards, as someone who could possibly be good. Was that even a possibility for the two year old? He'd molded himself into a killer...could he mold himself into something more...humane? With those troubling thoughts the hellion finally drifted off to sleep, glad for once that sleep was taking him.

~~

As the night dragged on, the man's body began to slowly heal itself, working in tandem with the paste that Orica had plastered across his wound. Though unaware of it, the pain had pretty much vanished, dissipating into a dull ache in his muscles. He slept soundly, dark nostrils flaring, his injured chest inflating and deflating with intake and outtake of breath. He was none the wiser as the little medic stirred from her sleep, padding off towards the nearby stream to grab one of those giant stalk things that she'd brought with her when he'd passed out earlier, filling it with water only to bring it back with her. As she pushed the rock out of the way and began applying the new leaf to the herb paste, the touch of the cold water stirred the man. Grey eyelids fluttered, opening up just a few cracks, cyan gaze coming across Orica's moving figure. To his surprise, after she'd finished applying the new leaf, instead of pushing the rock back to hold it, she replaced it with her own body, her dark back pressed against his chest to hold the paste in place. So this was what it felt like to sleep with a female, not fuck her. It was...nice? He didn't know. He'd never done anything like this and he wasn't sure he would ever do anything like this again. For now he would leave it alone, his body was already coaxing him back to sleep. Cyan gems disappeared beneath grey lids as the man drifted back off to sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily against Orica's back.

~~

And then it was morning. The sun began cresting over the mountain range, throwing its brilliant sunrays across Alacritis, chasing away the shadows of the night to illuminate the brilliant new day. For the most part, the morning was lost on the injured man. He was far too deep into his sleep to even realize that it was morning. Even as the giant fireball of a sun began warming up the bloodied earth beneath him, it still wasn't enough to rouse him from his sleep. His body had been hurt so badly that he could probably end up sleeping for the rest of the day, and maybe for half of the next. He would've stayed asleep for the rest of the day, had he not felt Orica stir at his side, snuggling herself closer to him, pushing against the wound. A low grunt rumbled in his chest at the touch, a spark of pain emanating from the wound. Lids cracked open, blinking repeatedly as he awoke, his vision slowly clearing until everything came back in sharp focus; including his memory of the day before. He saw the entire thing play out again almost like a movie. Him chasing the moose, the damn thing nearly slicing him in half, him crashing into the broken willows only to have to pick the splinters out. Then the little nymph coming to his aid, immediately jumping into action, gathering all her necessary items to heal him, him unable to look at her because he'd never come across a child such like her. Her beginning to patch him up, him growling and snarling with a baby (according to her), then her becoming suddenly curious about what kind of person he was and him telling her. He could vividly recall the look on her face when he told her that he liked killing. He would never forget that face. And then of course his lovely sister had come to the scene. He could still feel the dull echoes of pain as he relived lifting himself to go stand before the little medic to protect her from Cataleya. And after that was over, he'd passed out. The blood-loss had been too much for him. And once again, Orica had come to the rescue. The night had ended with them exchanging names and basically falling asleep together. It was certainly...odd.

Demyan didn't stir from his position beside Orica, but instead remained lying down, sparing a glance back at her sleep figure before looking out into new morning. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Everything that had happened last night was not who he was. At least, it wasn't who he'd been convincing himself for the past two years that he was. Was that really him? It had to be...he'd been doing it since birth. He knew no other way...and yet yesterday, it had seemed like there could be another way. But did he want to change? He was the kind of creature that her parents and family members told stories about to their children to warn them of the dangers of the world...Story. Orica had told him a story last night, about two wolves. One who had shared his hobby and had met another wolf, a halfbreed is what she'd called it, and it had changed the murderous wolf...That wolf had become good...because of the halfbreed...That...that couldn't happen with him, could it? No...he too far gone, to set in his way to be taught how to be any other way. And still yesterday...yesterday had been something else...Proof of what? That he could change? He had probably been half-deranged with all the pain riddling his body. He didn't know what he was doing...or did he? Fuck! So many fucking questions and he had answers to none of them. A quiet growl vibrated in his throat, cyan gems fixated on the giant willow before him, wishing there was some way he could make sense of everything that had happened in the last few hours.

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