Not Really Alone (Tyrant, Closed)

[Tyrant Creed]

Tyr trudged through the snow. Cursing himself. How did one end up in Antarctica, anyways? Apparently, you had to either like snow really, really bad, or end up on a malfunctioning space shuttle that was remotely pulled from orbit. And so he was.

The hybrid had been floating about on board, admiring the view of his native planet while a team of astronauts had gone about their daily work. When Tyr had paid millions in bribes and fake credentials, the hybrid had had no idea that outer space would become so agonizingly boring, so gods awful fast. Well, luckily for him, that changed rather quickly.

Waking to blaring alarms, Tyr had attempted to rush from his sleeping quarters only to send himself careening through space, flailing about in the poor gravity. After realizing where he was, the hybrid had rushed to meet up with someone else, finding the other members aboard in a panic. The rest was a white blur as the shuttle was pulled into the atmosphere, entering at a dangerous rate and threatening to burn up.

The hybrid had awakened in the snow, teeth chattering and barely able to feel his extremities, teetering on the brink of an unconsciousness that would bring only death.

After stumbling away from the flaming wreckage, the hybrid's mind was barely able to deduce that he had survived the crash somehow. He didn't even bother checking for other survivors. He was tired. So, so tired. Seeing an igloo in the distance, Tyr began tto painfully limp his way towards what he felt was his only hope of shelter in extreme weather conditions that were fast draining him of what energy he had left, and was using to insulate his body from the worst of the cold.

[Tyrant Creed]

Tyr fell to his knees in the snow, still some distance away from the igloo. Looking down, the hybrid noticed a rather large gash in his forearm. Nearly indestructible, yeah, right. He was bleeding quite a bit, but it didnt feel so bad. The hybrid just felt tired. Maybe he would die. Clenching his eyes tightly against the red which contrasted so sharply against the white, snowflakes gathered on the hybrid's eyelashes while he attempted to force himself to his feet.

He could not die there, no, he would not die there. Fate denied any such possibility. Tyr did not even notice the other daemon, nor did he notice as he wrapped the fur around himself with one hand, the other, on his wounded arm, hanging limp.

Tyr took no note when he accepted the daemons hand and was pulled on his back, still immersed in his own inner battle against the body that was fast failing him.

"No." the hybrid managed to say, weakly. The first coherent word he had managed since the crash. His arm grew to feverish temperature, catching fire. "No!" Tyr shouted more firmly, a denial if one had ever been heard, as his wound burned itself closed.

His eyelids fluttered but he managed to hold them open. "I am Tyrant Creed... So what if I fell from orbit? I refuse to die..." With that, he passed out.

[Tyrant Creed]

Struggling to stay conscious, Tyr continued to pay the other daemon little attention. One did not simply fall from orbit, bounce to their feet, and make themselves a cup of tea.

Nothing was broken, the hybrid knew at least that much about his state of being. A few cuts and bruises, but exposure and the gash on his arm seemed to be the worst of it. Nothing Tyr and his particularly odd biology could not handle. As a hybrid, he could take quite a good deal of punishment and was immune to many diseases that were debilitating to purebloods.

Opening one eye, just as the daemon began speaking once more, Tyr vaguely recognized him from somewhere. He frowned and sat up. "I would maim the lot of them for daring to do so." The hybrid spoke gruffly, rubbing his burned forearm which had not been bleeding since his body had cauterized it.

Eying the other daemon with some distrust. "This is nothing to me," he said, wincing as he forced himself to his feet. "I was raised in a world were I received worse beatings than this on a daily basis. A fall from orbit." Tyr laughed at that.

[Tyrant Creed]

"Of course I'm awake!" Tyr snapped, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. From the pain in his side, he was slightly surprised that he had not broken a rib. Something internal most likely. In the fall, the hybrid had likely bruised his diaphragm as well as much of the surrounding tissue. Tyr gave a slight shake of his head. Things could have been so much worse.

Chuckling, the hybrid winced in pain, at the daemon's mention of clowns and a circus. The one thing his father was deathly afraid of. Painted monstrosities, so the great daemon referred to them as.

"The beatings would make me stronger, so my father always said." Tyr muttered, giving another short laugh. "I suppose he was right."

The hybrid lifted on hand and tapped his chin. "We met once before, yes? Chicago, I believe. My father always hated clowns, and I can't say that I am particularly fond of them myself."

[Tyrant Creed]

The hybrid's face tightened at the daemon's mockery of him. Even in his weakened form, Tyr would not stand from it. The ground began to shake and Tyr's azure eyes seemed to glow briefly. "I would suggest that you refrain from mocking me." he warned.

The ground settled once more an the glow faded from Tyr's eyes. Impressive though the display of power had been, it had cost him some, and the hybrid tried not to show it as he leaned more heavily against the wall, winded. Tyr glared at the other daemon briefly.

Chuckling in a way to dispel any tension, "It takes quite the beating to even bruise my skin, and they never last long." Tyr informed the other male, keeping his wounded arm close to his side.

"Why did you help me?" The hybrid asked, having been contemplating this question for quite some time. It was a curious thing, after all, given to how this particular daemon's personality seemed. He just did not seem the selfless type.

[Tyrant Creed]

At that, Tyr rolled his eyes. Kill him. The hybrid had no intention of doing so, as he felt the need to hoard his energy until he found himself strong enough to live this gods forsaken frozen wasteland.

The hybrid glanced around the igloo, all but ignoring the less than important comments the daemon could make. It would probably be best that way, for Tyr to ignore any insults. He hadn't the energy to indulge his temper at that point in time.

At the thought of the other daemon owing him anything, Tyr laughed aloud. "If everyone was indebted to me just for not deciding to kill them, I would have the world at my beck and call.

"My human?" The hybrid paused for a moment until he realized who the daemon was referring to. "Oh, him. I suppose he is back in Chicago doing grunt work. His job."

[Tyrant Creed]

Ignorance was so common among the races, even among some of daemonkind. The hybrid shook his head in disappointment. Tyr kept expecting better of that half of his bloodline, and kept being disappointed nearly as often as not.

"Look," Tyr began "I'm a business man. That means having to do work with some unsavory peoples." he paused for a moment to let this sink into the daemon's thick skull. "Humans are, by far, the most numerous species on this planet. Outnumbering the rest of us considerably."

For a moment, the hybrid wondered why he was even talking about this with the daemon. He was not his father. Tyr was not possessed of his father's charisma, and hadn't a match's chance in Caina of swaying the mind of a daemon unwilling to listen to reason. So he would not bother trying.

"What are you even doing way out here, anyways?" The hybrid asked, trying to change the subject.

[Elizabeth Vance]

Elizabeth flew a couple of yards above the ground, seeing no need to hide her appearence in such a lifeless environment. She flapped her large, black feathery wings every couple of seconds, and sinply glided with the aid of the wind. Elizabeth inhaled the clean smelling air, free of the smell of smoke, unlike the big cities she was used to working at.

The vampire stopped when she spotted blood. She hadn't noticed the smell because it did not match the smell of human blood. She flew parallel to the ground, only about a yard above it, following the trail. Elizabeth noticed the trail leading into an igloo. She knew the creature inside of it could potentially be a problem, but her curiosity got the best of her. And besides, she wasn't heartless, she wanted to make sure it, whatever it may be, was okay.

Upon landing, her wings evaporated into the air in a black smoke. She adjusted her expensive looking, unscathed black leather jacket and started cautiously walking towards the igloo.

" Hello?" She called, removing a long chain from her belt look and wrapping it around her hands, leaving a good 3 feet left hanging from her right hand, dragging the sharp, curved blade on the end through the snow. " Who's there? I mean no harm." Elizabeth said, only a couple of yards from the igloo.

[Kandasa StormCrown]

"This is to Cold for Anyone to Enjoy..."

Kandasa was shivering. Alot. Trying to stop himself so that the heat wouldn't leave his body. He felt horrible for Jadova though. She was getting a little sluggish, but she could keep herself warm by spraying fire from her mouth to made the area around her before heated and her scales would absorb it. He wished he had scales right about now. He trudged along in the snow, Jadova right behind him, moving at his pace.

"How did we manage ourselves here in the first place?" Jadova asked, her voice echoing in his mind.

He tried to muster the control of his jaw and tongue to form the words of, "H-hell if I k-know. Th-this is stupid th-though... The o-only thing I do know . . . is that we have to m-make it back t-to the damn o-ocean to fl-fly off."

Jadova could tell it was hard on her partner to talk, even walk now, but no matter how many times she offered if he would rest and take a ride on her back, he told her no. If he sat still for to long, his muscles would lock up and he wouldn't be able to move. When she brought up her heated scales, he said that the constant shift from heat to cold would give him sickness and in this degree of weather, he would die from it.

The hood of his coat was up, but he had his long, raven black, hair down so that it would be another layer of material to trap in his body heat. the heavy wading through the snow was from his combat boots, but he hated himself for wearing black jeans. Even though they were black, they still were cold as hell.

It was then, he walked face first into a structure, falling backwards into the snow, whispering out a nice little, "Fuck.." before falling onto his ass. He looked up and noticed a handmade igloo infront of him, and then a woman's voice whispering something about she meant no harm.

Well that's a fucking relief, because if she was, he'd be dead. And he prayed to God that she was the one who owned the Igloo, but he doubted that. He called back to her,

"I'll not hurt you so long as you don't attack me or my Dragon." Kandasa tried to make it very clear that him and his Dragon were safe so long as she didn't try anything. He just hopped whoever else was around would hear as well.[/color][/size]