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|✧ HAMILCAR D'UTICA||
Posted: Dec 30 2016, 05:24 AM
Hamilcar sat sipping his coffee with only two spoons of sugar added his usual of course. He sat on the sunny patio glad to get away from the coldness of the north this time of the year. He watched as the citizens went about their day, taking a break for once from his various activities. The car’s zoomed down the street without a regard to a speed limit. He sighed, it must be nice, it’s been a while until he enjoyed such simple pleasure as going down the highway with the air in his hair. He started to daydream before he heard the breaks and the crash of a car. There a scream as the mangled mess was surrounded by a crowd. Yup, there was work to do. He down his coffee and went to the nearest alley way. He waited a moment before he could see the confused soul. He motioned with his finger for the deceased man to follow. The spirit looked confused but obeyed it followed him deeper into the alley.
“Your current predicament is unfortunate.” Hamilcar said to the ghost. The spirit finally looked at its surroundings realizing his fate. “Don't worry.” Hamilcar gave him a smile oh, he could see a bit of the spirit’s essences it was somewhat magic whether the man knew it in life or not, Envy was going to love picking him apart to analyze him. He would be reincarnated in time, but he might as well be made useful before that happened. He extended his hand to the spirit. “Come with me. I can lead you to the after life.”
Posted: Jan 13 2017, 12:48 AM
The heat of the sun warmed his wings, the wind tugging sharply at his scarf as he flew. It was funny, how the world worked. He could be in a frosted wonderland one day, only to visit a steaming jungle the next. He’d had no idea just how diverse Earth’s climate could be before he became an Angel.
Not an entirely ideal situation for someone who tended to wear the same thing day in and day out. His jacket and scarf, which were most comfortable in chill or temperate weather, were beginning to feel sticky against his skin. He supposed he couldn’t afford to be choosy about where he was sent, though. Whether it be in rain or shine, in snow or sleet, death remained a constant.
This one’s death had been unexpected — an accident had snuffed out his life prematurely, so Micah was a tad tardy in his arrival. As he landed amidst the throng of distressed people, he could only be grateful that a single life had been lost. Judging from the mess, there could have easily been more than one soul for him to take to Haven this day. And speaking of souls…
The man’s soul. It wasn’t here.
Micah crouched beside the man’s twisted corpse, forcing himself to ignore the various people walking through his chest, his limbs, his wings. He cupped the dead man’s face in his hands, ignoring the blood that clung to his fingers as he stared into the other’s eyes.
Yes, the soul was definitely gone. But it shouldn’t have strayed this far from its body — not yet at least. Strange.
He stretched his wings, suppressing a shiver as the feathered appendages passed through more people clueless to his presence, to what he was, and took flight once more. He glided low to the ground, nearly touching the cluster of rooftops as he methodically began to search for the lost soul.
Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. Unfortunately, what he was looking for wasn’t alone. His soul had been led astray.
Irritation plucked at Micah’s heart as he swooped into the alley, landing forcefully between the soul and the man that sought to take it. He stared poignantly at the soul, his palm held out and his head shaking softly. The message was clear enough.
Do not go with this man. He means you harm.
Micah turned to face the man had dared to try and deceive the soul that he had been charged to purify. Red eyes burned with indignation as his wings flared out, a black, feathered wall between the man and his quarry. He knew what this demon was. He knew what he did. Micah’s hands moved quickly, signing out a clear warning.
He is marked for Haven. You have no claim to this soul.
tag: HAMILCAR D'UTICA
|✧ HAMILCAR D'UTICA||
Posted: Jan 28 2017, 06:38 PM
The spirit shakily extended his hand ready to grasp Hamilcar’s but then of course the interloper had to come into the fray. He didn’t have to see the beings face, the wings, and the overly self-righteous aura was a clear indicator that this was one of the angels that loved to interfere. He sighed as he looked at the red eyed. He thought to himself how to spin this before looking at the spirit. “The black winged, red eyed…creature is a deceiver.” Hamilcar noted the sign language and walked around Micah so he was standing next to him. If the spirit chose him, then he would have as much claim over the wayward soul as this agent of Haven. The Void longed for a soul to sustain it, the same longing that pushed him to act as a grim reaper of sorts to soul, but he would argue he had a more charisma than a pile of dusty old bones.
He ran his hair through his silver hair. “Trust the red-eyed black-winged being?” He scoffed at the idea. Micha may have been an angel but, that wasn’t going to deter Hamilcar. “The only thing he’s offering you is a one way ticket to a place you don’t want part of. Look at his flashy gimmicks to reel you in, deplorable.” Hamilcar looked at the ghost, he was cautious possibly still shaken from his death, but now two figures stood there persuading him which path to the afterlife to take. Hamilcar extended his hand, motioning to the ghost. He could see his words having an effect on the ghost, though he could see uncertainty. If this meddlesome agent of Charles wasn’t around he could have just been on about his day without incident. He swore they were such bothers at times.
Posted: May 1 2017, 11:06 PM
Red-eyed, black-winged creature.
Those words bit into his skin, burned through his veins like a vicious poison. Micah’s wings immediately bristled, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he fixed the slimy demon with a look that could freeze hell over. How dare this man — if he could even be called a man at all — try and twist him into something else, play him off like he was something to be damned, like he was a mere beast that couldn’t be trusted.
He didn’t know which felt worse — listening to this devil spew his lies, or having to just stand there and take it because he didn’t even have the words to defend himself.
At least I was human, once. If he clung to that thought hard enough, maybe he would start to believe it.
Micah wasn’t sure if the demon could understand him or not, but he decided that that didn’t matter. What did matter was the soul standing before them, flighty and uncertain of who to trust. This was the man that Micah needed to convince — and he wouldn’t have to use gimmicks to accomplish that.
Of all the nerve.
There was a wild instinct to reach out and strike the blasphemous creature standing next to him — just a whack over the head with his wing, nothing too violent — but Micah immediately squashed the impulse. That wouldn’t help him. Focus on the soul. Just focus on him.
He meet the eyes of the dead man, his gaze as soft as he could make it as he slowly shook his head. The other man lies, he lies. His hands reached for his notepad, quickly scribbling a few phrases onto the paper as he stepped forward, brushed the devil’s outstretched hand aside like it didn’t mean a thing. He lifted the notepad up, showed the soul the words written in neat letters.
Not perfect, but my master is. He can help. This devil will hurt. Can’t speak, please trust me.
The words were almost crude in their simplicity, but Micah prayed they got the message across. He really wasn’t the type for exposition.