Everything in Watercolor (open to anyone)

[Alice "312" Rabbitt]

“Subject 312.”

“Yes ma’am?” An innocent little girl with pure white hair glanced up in the direction of the familiar voice. Zeda Stonehart doorway, dressed in a tightly fitted business suit complete with leather gloves and boots that forced the woman’s feet up on an almost vertical slope. The girl smiled immediately and dropped the doll she was stitching up. Bare feet thudding against the spotless tile floor, she ran up and embraced the taunt woman around the waist.

“Good morning ma’am!” Subject 312 exclaimed, squeezing Zeda, who’d been assigned to look after the angel. “I hope you brought a snack for me?” The child laughed and dropped her arms back to her sides. The tall woman’s face was graced with the slightest hint of a smile as she looked down at the cheery little angel.

“Actually, I have a mission for you. The Administration wishes you to condemn a man for idolatry.” Zeda replied, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ears. “Go get changed and put on your coat.” She finished as her pale blue eyes swept the room, finally resting upon a single large window. The huge, clear band of glass stretched from the ceiling to the floor and sweeping to the sides of the room, forming the back wall. Subject 312 smiled as she followed her care-taker’s gaze. That window was one of her favorite, creating the illusion of freedom in an empty room. Girl scampered off to get dressed up for her mission.

…..

Alice peered out at the streets of London from the sidewalk. True, it was soggy, rainy, and almost everything was a dull shade of gray, but the hidden angel was happy to be outside again. She was also very lucky that the climate here was so cold and wet, giving her an excuse to wear her thick white coat, her best bet at hiding her wings and perfect hair. Smiling from beneath the shadow of her hood, Alice examined a small rectangular photograph in her tiny hand. It wasn’t a very good picture. Colorless and grainy, was the image of a man with sad eyes, about forty or so. Scribbled on the back with an HB pencil was the name Basil Sim, a rather boring and unremarkable name. The angel pulled an old pocket watch from her thick sleeve and checked the time. Today the target was supposed to be at home, sleeping. Tucking both the photo and the watch in her empty pocket, Alice skipped down the street, whistling a lullaby as she went; nothing but a care free child with a bizarre doll hooked in her arms. Basil only lived a block away from where she was now and breaking into his small apartment would be easy.

This angel was on a mission and she refused to let anyone stop her from getting her wings bloody. Or so she thought.

[Raeia Triune]

Raeia was lost in his thoughts sipping his blistering drink. He was just a little aware of what was happening outside the shop. Through the thick, clear glass window he could see people going about their usual business and by looking at them the more he even questioned how little he knew of the world.

It was in a coffee shop somewhere in London that Raeia was enjoying the bitter taste of his warm black coffee. It was not like him to drink coffee with neither milk nor sugar. However just for that day he willed himself to taste such strong tang of bitterness. After that dangerous adventure he went through with a couple of nut jobs, he felt he had to take a strong dose of anything… ’normal’ and common, just to shake him up and make him feel that he was back on earth. He kind of wondered though what normal really was. Like, was his encounter with uncanny beings such as demons, gryphons and others count as normal? After all he is also one of them, a specie who was supposed to be a myth and monster from the legends.

The cup was half empty when he snapped out of his trance. From his lips came a soft breath of reprieve, he sighed at the thought of him thinking about things he have no control at all. Ultimately he decided that sitting there thinking would not make any difference on what had already transpired or what else was just about to or will. On the table he left a few coins, a tip for the satisfactory service he received and small thanks for letting him occupy their place for hours.

As he stepped out of the shop, Raeia wore his thick jacket then eased his heavy bag on his shoulder. He was approaching a newsstand to grab a tabloid when he noticed an odd fellow down the street; a petite and giddy girl was walking down towards him in an almost empty street. Over his shoulder, left and right, surveying the area high and low, Raeia really could not help but feel that the girl who was several meters away from him was out-of-place and did not belong to where they were. Despite his keen eyesight, he mistook the girl’s whistling as mumbling. ‘Another nut job?’ he thought warily.

Trying not to look suspicious, Raeia asked the portly vendor at the newsstand how much a broadsheet cost; all the while, shooting short and quick glances at the girl. The merchant may have caught him throwing momentary looks behind him but Raeia did not answer the man when we was asked.

Rolling up the paper slowly and looking casual, he surveyed the area once again more carefully. Seeing it was safe to cross the street, he walked to the other side of the road. Being opposite of where the girl would be, he thought it would be safer and easier for him to follow her unnoticed.

Raeia was completely sure his instincts were right. This girl was like those guys he met days ago.

[Alice "312" Rabbitt]

Alice stopped in front a gate at base of a towering building. Basil lived on the twenty first floor, beyond a maze of stairways, halls, and this black metal gate. With a sigh, the girl rolled up her sleeves and sat the doll on the floor. She pressed her small fingers to the rusty lock, gripping it firmly in her hands. Snap. And a few pieces of the lock clattered to the floor. Alice simply shrugged and collected her doll from it’s position on the ground. Hugging the roughly sewn figure close to her chest, the gate doors swung open reluctantly, wailing in protest. The girl frowned. And to think that people really live in this old building. Pitiful.

The angel hadn’t the slightest idea that anyone was following her. To be completely honest, she didn’t really care. Being an angel, she found that any of her actions would be easily justified. But the stairs didn’t seem to mind whether the girl clambering up them was an angel or not. It seemed to stretch up forever, its dirty railing hardly shiny anymore. The elevator was out of service, not that she would really want to take it in the first place. That old thing looked as sad as the rest of the building and was openly a safety hazard. Thinking that she was alone on the staircase, Alice pulled off her hood, revealing hair that was so bright, it seemed to glow in the dim lighting. Picking up her humming again, she chose an offensively happy tune, her doll bouncing lightly in her arms.

Crash.
At this point, Alice had destroyed the lock on room H11, the supposed room of Basil Sim, and burst through the door, an eerie grin on her cherubic face. The small room was sparsely furnished, but the floor was barely visible through the layers of oil paints, brushes, papers, and canvas. Lying where ever there was space were paintings, but all of which were of unrecognizable objects. Alice cocked her head to one side, picking her way through the mess to a piece that had caught her eye. To anyone it looked like a blurry mess of black, white, and the sharp lines of a red marker. “Curioser, and curioser,” She mused. Leaning forward, the girl stared at the picture, its reflection visible in her nearly black eyes. A signature was scribbled hastily in the corner. Basil Sim, it read. Then there was the sound of rustling, scrambling, and the sound of a muffled yelp.

…..

Basil popped his head up out of mess of painting where he’d fell. The man had woken up when he heard the sound of wood creaking and the clack of metal hitting the floor. He personally thought it was a robber and attempted to peak around the side of the wall when he slipped on a piece of paper. Upon repositioning his glasses, he noticed a young girl standing in his apartment examining the painting he’d done last week. Scrabbling to his feet, the man looked at the girl with his sad eyes and opened his mouth to ask her a question. But before he was able to do so, the girl smiled and said “Hello there,” in a cheery voice.
“My name is Alice. Don’t worry, I’m an angel. You’re supposed to be punished for idolatry. Is there anything you want to say before I condemn you?” The girl brushed the hair from her eyes and dropped her coat to her elbows, letting it fall from her shoulders to allow a plume of pure-white feathers to spill out in the shape of two wings.

[Raeia Triune]

The senses of H11’s resident artist was first triggered by the loud sound of the broken lock. Being tired physically and mentally drained, it took a while for his brain to jolt him to stir and make him get up; however it was the sound made by a metal hitting solid ground that fully set off his mind to work and do the task. It only took seconds for his mind to process the disturbing sound. His brain knew it was the dead of the night and for that it reasoned to him, a perpetrator, a definite unwarranted guest had entered his abode. In shock and still dazed, it was by instinct that he fumbled for a weapon. Only giving few fleeting looks at where his right hand was scrambling, his eyes were dead set at the door that served as the entrance and exit to his and from his living room.

His hand fumbled and searched the drawer beside his bed; his wits not thinking what may be in there; and his hope hoping far too many things but alas… In the drawer besides a bundle of papers, caricatures, and brushes, there was only a short, rusty, and dull paper cutter. After holding it firm on his right, the man known as Basil looked at the only item he has at the moment that could save his life in case a danger really was present beyond his bedroom door.

Blood pumping faster each second, his breathe hot and deep. Slowly he slid away from the comfortable warmth of his bed. Reaching out and grabbing his glasses, the artist started to pray as cold beads of sweat formed on his forehead and warmth draining out from his body

As the man inhaled and breathed out his deepest gulp of air, he was already done enumerating all the things he could think that mattered as his last minute preparation before he goes in for the kill. With his back on the wall he cautiously opened the door. He peered at the small gap he made but he could not tell what it was that he was looking at. He tried to open the door a wee bit wider to get a better look but everything fell apart, he became careless and slipped and tumbled at the mess that was on his floor. At that instant, he was scared out of his wit; he felt not only his warmth but his blood as well fleeting him. The blade he was holding so close to him a while ago flew from his hand and found its way under his collection of paper, mess and portfolio.

Then he heard the burglar’s sweet voice and which caught him off guard. The timbre was high but not shrill it was womanly but also deep. All in all the pitch was very hard to place and uncharacteristic. What was even more uncharacteristic was that the presence of a young girl in front of him from whom the voice apparently came.

Basil was dumbfounded, and confused. Words did not seem to want to come out his pale, thin lips. Yet he need not to. His mind raced full of questions and the girl seem to read his mind. All of he wanted to as was answered. Alice. Angel. Punish. For what?! “…idolatry.”

’Idolatry?!’

The reason didn’t seem to fit and he found it hard to understand. Slightly he heard the last sentence the girl had said but he still would not believe her. Swiftly his tact and reasoning returned and he was ready to answer back and retort when the lass seemed to notice his rush of confidence and broke it down again. His glasses came undone when he fell and landed somewhere on or hidden under the mess in front him. Though his vision was blurry he shuddered when he suddenly took notice of the beautiful form of the graceful child before him.

“Is this real?!?” came his terse, lone reply.

Meanwhile, the wereman Raeia was waiting outside the building.


(OOC: Do you have plans with Basil? Else, you can do what you want from him and we carry on with the thread probably make the two meet at the building entrance?)

[Alice "312" Rabbitt]

Alice wiped the blood from her thin top with a scrap of paper. The floors, walls and paintings themselves had attained a bit of red due to her messy attack. Basil had fallen easily.

As if to answer his previous question, she had flung herself forward and dispatched the man with what ever he had in the room. Her first move was to stop him from fighting back, yelling, or feeling pain. She collected a hypodermic needle of some kind of chemical from the Admisitration. Joy flashing in her dark eyes, she plunged the needle into the artist’s neck before he could do so much as scream. Feeling the sliver of metal sink into his skin, the man collapsed into Alice’s arms. He wasn’t dead. Just unable to move or feel.

….

Basil could still see however, as the angel drew his paper cutter from under a mess of papers.

He could blurrily see her smile stretching from ear to ear underneath her coal black eyes.

He could only watch as blood stained the canvas and paper on the floor, knowing it was his own.

And just a little further, his hazy gaze uncovered the shape a bizarre doll sitting on the ground, staring back at him with uneven button eyes. It was missing an arm and one leg was shorter than the rest. It’s stitching contrasted with its white body, making it more obvious that the doll was meant to look that way.

This girl is not an angel, if anything… Then Basil could no longer comprehend anything. A feeling washed over him and, ironically, that was a feeling of comfort as something warm and soft slid under his remaining arm. To his surprise, his nerves came back to him, but he couldn’t feel any pain. With slow realization, it came to him that it was the doll he held in his single embrace. Its broken body a replica of his own.
….

Alice’s crazed grin had melted into a soft smile, like that of a mother fondly checking on her sleeping child. She bent down over the body and rolled him over from his side onto his back and folded the arm she allowed him to keep over his chest, the doll in the crook of his elbow. Reverently, the angel gently slid the man’s eyelids down with two fingers. Then, she leaned over him and kissed his closed eyes. She rose up from where she had been kneeling and folded her wings, shifting into her coat. Glancing over her shoulder one last time at the body on the ground, she left room H11, closing the door with out a lock behind her. Then she began her long trip back down the stairs, the smile on her face brighter than before.

She swung around the corner of the stairs and pushed the door open. To her surprise, there was a man waiting there.

{OOC: Yup, that was pretty much what I was going for}

[Raeia Triune]

The girl entered the building without hesitation. Looking at her from behind, one would mistake her as a resident of the building as she did not force herself in and did not take a while to go in. She appeared to have simply opened an unlocked door and welcomed herself in. It would have tricked the wereman as well if he had not noticed the door knob missing. It dawned on him right away. The girl has enormous strength in her despite how she looked like. It did not shock him at all. He have gotten used to it after his last encounter with the paranormal.

Raeia wanted to follow her all the way in however keeping his presence unseen and not felt would be hard in closed spaces. Whatever her intentions in the building was, he was sure it was not for her own good. Probably she has to attend to some business inside and whatever it was, he was certain it was illegal. You don’t have to break down a door or destroy a nice door knob if you are a welcome guest after all; so it was a shady business she has inside or she already knew she was being followed and took a short cut inside the building and going out an exit somewhere. Sounds easy but there was one thing that turned everything upside down. We’re not talking of a normal person here. She could fly herself out of the window anytime or even worse, teleport.

He waited for at least a minute before he peeked inside. That amount of time was the shortest he would give the lass he thought. For all he knows, it was a time long enough for her to escape but still, he would not let himself be caught by a force he knows too little of.

The entry hall of the building was not too grand but still it was of decent size. There were two stairs seen from the front, one at the north-east and the other was at the north west. For sure there was an elevator or at least an escalator somewhere but he could not locate it. But at any rate he got a glimpse of the girl as she climbed the stairs and before she was gone from his view.

Raeia walked away from the building and inspected it from a good distance away. He checked if he could get an idea or two on what that ’thing’ came for. If not, at least get a depiction of the building structure. Some buildings are easier to figure out than others and he hoped the one he was checking out was of the former. Unluckily for him, the wall did not give any clues.

He walked back towards the door and was unsure what else to do. He was not one to abandon what he had started and he was resolute that that day would not be the first. Stopping at the door, the girl emerged from the inside. A bit taken aback he shrugged and spoke, “Did it take me a while to check?”

The scent did not came immediately. The lass’s alluring fragrance was smothering and almost concealed that of the blood’s. “Who are you? A vampire? I always thought people of your kind look young and sultry. You only got the first part right.”

“But it seems Stephanie Meyer got some good materials on her,” Raeia continued then pointed at the beautiful blonde strands of the young woman in front of him, ”She did a nice research, wonder who her informant was.”

[Alice "312" Rabbitt]

The girl listened to the man, then tilted her head to one side, a confused look on her face.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, her voice sounded genuine. “Vampires don’t exist, and the Twilight Saga is a work of fiction. That fandom is really getting out of hand, hmm?” Behind her dark eyes, Alice was lying. She knew all about vampires and had put some of them to their deaths on a few missions. But if this man knew they excited… well, you just can’t trust humans with anything. The angel rolled from the toes of her boots to her heels and clasped her arms behind her with her lips pursed in an ‘o’.

“Say...Maybe you need to visit some one? I don’t think it’s normal to be confusing people with creatures of the night.” Alice flashed the man a beaming smile and shrugged her shoulders. She brushed past him, heading toward the door. “Bye bye, now.” She leaned up against him, glancing up into his eyes for a heartbeat.

She didn’t notice, however, that a blood splattered white feather had slipped out from underneath her coat.

[Raeia Triune]

The bloodied feather was soft as cotton and smooth as silk. Raeia picked it up and it did not take him long to know what occurred inside. He was well too acquainted to the smell of blood and he could not mistake it for anything. “An angel of death may be?”

Raeia stood after examining the feather and slid it inside his pocket not minding whether the little girl spun around and saw what he took from the dusty ground. “But I guess, you’re not the type who waits death,” the dark-haired wereman paused and let his sentence sink in. “All this time I thought God’s harbinger of judgment San Miguel was a man.

“Humor me, who was the guy and what did he do?”

He waited for the girl to answer and time seemed to not matter. The silence seemed to exude an eerie stillness and that moment in time appeared to have stopped. He was not afraid of her but their actions were like taking turns, he frozen in his place waiting for the girl to make the next move. Just like a game of chess.

The girl’s face had an inexplicable emotion written on her face which he could not place. He saw it clearly when she looked at him this time around. The first time they came face to face, he saw puzzlement in her eyes but now it was different. Was it amazement, wonder, irk, anger, or delight? He could not tell. She was a being he could not understand. Incredibly, he found the demon Rennia more just, fair and most of all way more likeable than the angel in front of him. Were gods immortal beings who were too proud and unreachable? Were they too high up in the sky far from mortal’s reach with his angels being the same and could not stay groi]unded with them?

If it was so, may be that was the reason why men kept sinning. Suddenly he was thankful of the god his kind praise, Locutus. The god was always at one with nature and nature was the closest to the ground and men. Was that the reason why his people, just like the pagans, sin less than most? Surely, Locutus have kept an eye open and watched over them just like when he blessed his people with the power to be the ’nature’.

His mind inquired thoughtfully, ’Tell me angel, tell me why?’

< OOC: Did some minor adjustments in my post. I kind of controlled your character a bit earlier and just noticed it now. Anyways, that was edited and removed. My fault on typing what I imagine and half-baked proof reading. Lol. >

[Alice "312" Rabbitt]

Alice stopped abruptly. Angel of death? She liked that. She turned slowly on her heels and glanced back up at the man.

“A man? Hmm… but that’s so… typical ” The girl sighed in an almost pouting way, though, for a moment, she was reminded of one of the other Exorcists at the Administration, a boy who very well could have been the real angel of death. But then again, he was human.

“As for that poor man, he committed idolatry. I was sent to end his days, but don’t worry, he felt no pain…” Alice sang in a cheery, yet wistful voice. “It’s not like I want to kill people. After all, death is necessary for life, is it not?” The girl took a few steps closer to the man, her dark eyes swimming with a mixture of bliss, sadness, and emptiness. “Whatever I think is irrelevant, my duty is to higher authorities.”

With that the angel took a few more steps, closing the distance between her and the man. She was roughly half his height, but she could tell that he was very bright and more in tuned than other humans. Perhaps he wasn’t a human at all. Her expression didn’t change and a thought flitted through her head. Maybe he was one of the underlings who serve beneath a false god?


{OOC: Dah, you post was fine, but thanks for editing it anyway 

By the way, Alice is Catholic so yeah… she believes that the Distention gods and goddesses are ‘false.’ Personally, I’m not trying to demote any of the… ah… immortal residents but if any of them want to step in and curse Alice some time, that’s fine with me...}

[Raeia Triune]

Raeia could not place his side on the matter. He disliked the angel’s rationale but he could not decide who was worse; a mercenary like him who kills men who, as far as he knows, were bad, or one who kills other because of having a different god. Both of them kills but the reason was completely different than the other. He wanted to check the man upstairs but his guts told him everything was too late. By the time he finds the man, life would have already left the poor man’s body.

“Then are you going to murder everyone who doesn’t follow your god?” the wereman asked. “Is the guy that bad of a man that he be punished by death from your hands? Angel.”

His words were sharp but his feelings were bland. The way the man asked the lass was without malice and one that searches a more sensible explanation behind the girl’s actions. “Your god is a cruel one. I wish not to follow him. Then are you going to kill me now?”

The night was still deep and morning still hours away. A light in the lamppost few meters away was flickering then suddenly went dead. Up in room H11, the man known as Basil Sim has a bead of tears on his eyes as he asked his revered deity deliverance and eternal happiness.

[Alice "312" Rabbitt]

Alice listened to the man. He had a good point, she thought, as she twiddled a lock of bleached hair between her fingers.

“I don’t kill people for not following God. I just kill the ones I’m told to kill. Basil committed idolatry and lying to God is rubbish. You don’t do that. You just don’t.” The angel shrugged. “So yeah, I guess he deserved it.”

“As for my god being cruel, you don’t know him personally. You’re not the pope. Don’t be so judgmental.” Alice continued in a still child-like tone as if she was explaining to a parent that she why wanted to buy ice cream. She tilted her head back so she could see his face. There was something fun about being a child and arguing with adults. “You don’t have to follow Him if you don’t want to. Non-believers and sinners all end up in the same place.”

“But the thing is, I’m not going to kill you because I didn’t receive any instruction on you. I only came for him.” The angel smiled and flashed a small photograph at the man she was speaking to.