01● Smeraldo sguardo | Open, Analee

[D'Angelo]

Janurary 1st, 2012
The Great Undercroft
Unspoken Loath

Before the eyes of man, true warfare was but an ideology; a reality suspended in the thoughts of many and only given breath in times of greed and despair. Nonetheless, in the Great Undercroft, warfare was culture. It was the primal and singular interest of the thousands what swarmed the lands. The foul, the retched, the fraudulent, the prideful; each sensation that fed the realm of power and greed eventually spilled over into this land, and akin to the ancient roman coliseums, battles won both honor and respect in these parts. It was the perfect place for D’Angelo to spend his week, collecting the souls of demons and enrapturing them to God on a silver platter.

Or so he thought…



Hours turned into days, which soon ascended into weeks as the scarlet-haired Demon found himself in a constant struggle against the forsaken of these parts. Seventeen days, an accurate number, maybe—it mattered little as D’Angelo eventually lost count after slaying his 82nd phantom. This battle had far transcended reality and the man felt that in his own mission for peace, he lost himself along the way, having fallen off track and ensnared himself in limbo, this fighting never ceased. With each wave slain, two followed in their track, more powerful, more avaricious than their predecessors.

Resting behind one of the walls which compiled the edifice of the mammoth coliseum, D’Angelo resided. His back, pressed hard against the split stone as heavy breathes escaped from his mouth. I guess I came to the r-right place, almost sardonic were his thoughts as the man attempted to gather himself, ignoring the noise of the outside world. His body bruised, evident by the scars and contusions along his face; they were minor and he kept a note to not allow anything to harm his allure. However, his attire wasn’t so propitious. The finely decorated and embellished trench coat he donned was covered in debris and dust, as well as blood strains—some his own, while the rest belonging to various demons. His hat suffered from several entry wounds and found its value diminished entirely. His glasses cracked as a long, thin line ran through the lens and his opera-esque facial charm, tarnished beyond immediate repair.

Exhausted and battered, D’Angelo could rest knowing that this area was filled with Soul energy, which kept his attacks potent and as he slayed a demon, their life force only served to invigorate his offensive. “Sounds quiet… I guess the coast is cl—” His words cut clean through as the man silenced himself and jumped dimly at the sound of the ways next to him caving in. Soon after, several dozen waves of pure energy and concussive force rocked against the building in arbitrary order, shaking its foundation (at least on his level) with extreme force. This acted in waves, which gave the Demon a brief window to peer outside one of the provisional peak-holes to his right. The sight alone was enough to end a gulp down his throat in disbelief.

“DAMNIT!!!” He shouted in pure frustration.

Sighing one last sigh, the drained soul took to a stand, though not before grabbing Espiatorio from the cold ground. Soon enough, he made a break for it, curving off to his right as he entered into a sprint, his eagle-like eyes peering out towards the amassing crowd as his gun burned brightly and bullets ran rampant from his position to the dismal spirits below. “Don’t you guys ever take a break!?” He called out, unsure of wear to go, or who to hit exactly, so he aimed for any and every one, hitting some as he circumventing the incoming wave of attacks, preserving his life in the process of his elusion.

The barren wasteland and remainder of what used to be a metropolis herded with demons, all bred from war and bloodshed. They knew no bounds and limitation hadn’t existed in their mentality since before life. Boosting even a demon’s physiology, D’Angelo was by no means immortal—he was venerable to pain, abuse and to death beyond death. As such, while hiding in the coliseum and forcing the demons off into the town with a series of well-placed shots off in the distance to distract them, the man concealed himself, and dropped along a wall once more; crimson red running down from the edifice and tracing back to his spine—an evident injury now visible.



Dropping his Apparatus to his side, allowing the transcendent steel to click off the ground before drawing forth silence, D’Angelo rustled through his coat. “Gotcha.” He smiled weakly as he pulled out a cigarette, which he ignited with ease. The cancer stick under limply from his mouth as the accommodation for pain and stress ran its course and the Demon Hunting Demon relaxed in place. His wounds were severe and while some healed, he was a far way from perfection. Nonetheless, he had bought himself time, a commodity that wouldn’t be taken for granted.


“Peace. Solitude. Bullshit.”

[Analee]

WHAT exactly was Analee doing in the Great Undercroft? She herself wasn't sure. She stalked about in her demon form. Jacket flapped in the vague wind as demons tore at each others' throats and sliced one another up like a well-done or rare steak. Some looked more like the vampiric type that preferred the bloodied rare meat.. which was admittedly gross to Ana, who quite frankly had the eating habits of a teenage human with the munchies. She never really ate a meal and instead picked and chose through the vague snacks and such that sat around her place.. if she could even call it a place? It was more like a shack.. not even that really.

Anyways, the point had been that no one was really bothering Ana despite her being in the sanctum of great warriors. In all likelihood it had to do with the fact she didn't even look like a fighter and simply was nearly as invisible as a tar baby. She wasn't often kicked, because it didn't bother her. Ana had no concept of being bullied or really even being hurt by someone's words. She was simply happy and full of energy. All. The. Damn. Time. To 99% of the Inferis world it was annoying to no bounds. How could someone be so thrilled to live in Hell and rarely frown. Also randomly hugging people was apparently a nuisance that she could barely grasp. Why shouldn't she be happy if she was alive? Even if she wasn't technically alive. She could still feel. It wasn't as if the world had stripped her of any feeling.

Anyways, she made her way through the area with no real objective, other than to find a game to play. Sometimes the whole 'Kill random demons' game got a bit boring and tedious. After all, there was only so many times you could kill nameless demons before it became work more than a fun little hobby. In fact, she didn't even have her sword out, because that was just begging for random attacks and assaults from obsessive fighters and warriors. Nonetheless, she would wander about.

It was a long while before she spotted someone who looked slight preposterous. Most fighters were in loincloths or armor when in the Undercroft, but this man was not. He didn't look Spartan and from the blood on his body, he was obviously still breathing. Because to Ana, blood meant they were still alive. The concept of him probably bleeding to death was something foreign and unlikely to cross her mind, because well, she was Ana and was quite oblivious to such things.

Ana waltzed right up to him, in the slightly skipping manner and instantly embraced him. "HI FRIEND!" She spoke loudly as if she knew the man a long time. It took her a moment to realize he was indeed still bleeding, before looking panicked. "Oh Demon Lords! Are you okay? Here.." She fished in her bag momentarily. In her palm was soon a piece of plastic in some paper. She pried it apart and pressed the small adhesive to his cheek. Yes, one small bandaid was going to cure the man's whole body.

[D'Angelo]

As if devoid of any deathly properties, and as minute as a grain of sand, the cigarette’s length was depleted. In hell, nothing could cause more turmoil then simply being within its bounds, and as a member of the “dearly” departed, the man had the luxury of being insusceptible to anything other than other spiritually-endowed phenomenon. These cancer sticks, as potent and deadly as they were to creatures drawing breath, they did nothing more than relaxed a man with many, many problems. Like most drinks that induced the glamorous sensation of intemperance, it was an acquired taste—these cigarettes, but in truth, they were for novelty.



Tossing a side the filter from the first, D’Angelo, as if instinctively guided, reached for another. His hand soon gliding over his zipper lighter before allowing its flame to coat the end of the stick again; inhaling a breath, allowing the oxygen to suckle the flame, he soon expelled a sigh, a puff of thin smoke following suit. Safe for the time being, he took a moment to reflect on what actually brought him here. Sure, the slaying of demons was a lifestyle he had accepted for himself, and enthusiastically; however, there was something beneath the surface, something more genuine to his core and character. Could it have been that he was sent here upon arriving in Hell?

Tch, He grinned. “A product of my environment, aye?” Talking to himself, the Demon posed a question, rhetorical and not meant to be met with an answer.

Consciously, he knew he was what he swore to kill; there was no hovering around the notion, at all. In all honesty, it bothered him little and for the time-being he simply acted on the will of the almighty and transcendent father. Each demon he met with ill-will and malice glistening in their eyes would be complimented by holy rounds and a lasting smile from the man firing them.

For the meantime, he rested. It was a feeling like no other, the regenerative properties of his composition soaking through his cells and repairing the wounds he had been dealt. So refreshing that it brought a relieving sigh and a calm expression to his face; it was during this time, this period of recovery, that the woman had surfaced and his left lifted furrowed in oddity. A red-haired beauty, waves of vibrant cherry cascading down an even more remarkable and voluptuous frame. If he weren’t in the predicament he found himself in currently, this would have been the most opportune time to express charm. Until she beat him to it, of course.

With swift hug and a single band-aide, D’Angelo found himself a new acquaintance? His head lifting back and turning to face the woman, he’d allow his crimson hues to peer calmly into her eyes. “By what name my savior for this… exquisite remedying?” He inquired. Not knowing this woman’s name, or her origins, he knew one thing; she was a demon, and thus their native tongue would work perfectly in conversation. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to kill her—she was a looker.

[Analee]

The man seemed stunned to see her. It wasn't like Ana was stealthy or anything, but she figured he was probably busy doing that thing some demons did with a piece of chemical stick. What were they called again? Cigar rats? That made no sense! They looked nothing like rats! Oh well, minus the non rat- cigar rats, it was obvious the man had been fighting. Whether it was for his life or for fun? Ana hadn't a slightest clue. Some demons really had strange ways of expressing themselves or even entertaining themselves. Then again, Ana wasn't one to talk. Everything to her was a game.

She looked at him with her green eyes, blinking a couple times while he addressed her. Exquisite remedy-ing? What on earth was he speaking about? She blinked a couple times and simply smiled. The only real option was the bandaid. "Oh no. That's just a bandaid." Ana pointed out, though they both knew that already, likely. "I figured it could at least help a little bit." Her smile widened, which flashed her sharp canines briefly.

A part of his sentence sounded sort of sounded as if he were asking her name. He spoke in a strange fashion, but Ana was managing. "I'm Analee. Most just call me, Ana though. Or woman." If her smile could be wider, it was. She slid off her jacket and rolled her shoulders. Beneath, she had simply a bikini top and her short shorts, but the air of the undercroft felt amazing on her skin. "What's YOUR name, mister?"

[D'Angelo]

From initial examinations and gratuitous generalities, D’Angelo could make for certain one thing: this woman didn’t belong on the battlefield. Who, in their right mind, carries around first-aid reserves and willingly shares it with the enemy? Beyond belief and completely contradicting the ways of his former teachings, the Demon was, nonetheless, stunned by this revelation. As such, when she approached and placed the medical tool upon his face for safekeeping and well-guarding, his hand intuitively reached for the handle of Espiatorio, his index finger slowly and casually curling around its trigger. She was a demon, and her stench alone proved as much. Nonetheless, she had given no reason to kill, at least not yet.

Wide-ranging and filled with joy, the red-haired crusader’s eyes twitched, but for a moment. How could someone, willingly and happily coincide within the foul pits of Hell and boost such a smile? Happiness, true, genuine happiness didn’t exist in a dominion compiled of sin and deceit. It was specious and outright insane, to say the very least. The very thought of true elatedness was unfathomable and was the direct cause of D’Angelo’s pilgrimage; everything he did, everything he was—it was being challenged by the fiery-haired beauty before him. Oddly enough, it brought a charming smile to the surface of his lips.

Even odder than her odd charm and way with approaching strangers, she was idiotic—no—she was open enough to give her name. Abnormal, on this day alone, D’Angelo had met a demon he didn’t instantly want to kill. “Woman? No, I’d never vitiate such a beauty with something so generalizing… Your name fits perfectly.” He exclaimed, his hand still gripped around the handle of his gun, however, it lessened in applied-pressure as he continued to oust the fumes of his smoke in casual and thin wisps. “Analee. a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Even when faced with death, the charming allure of D’Angelo’s personality always seemed to gleam.

“The name’s D’Angelo Courtese. A p-please to make your acquaintance.” He’d reach out to give her his hand, however, his actions were halted by several coughs, both strong and never the more healthy. His condition was worsening and as the infrastructure of the coliseum continued to over-accommodate the presence of the blasphemous ghouls, he only saw the light within him flicker away. He needed somewhere to heal, somewhere safe to mend his wounds and to gather his strengths.

Arching his back, and easing his arms out of the sleeves of his blood-ridden trench coat, he tossed the ruined thing aside. His fingures soon lingered over the surface of his stained white dress shirt, allowing one button to unsnap followed by another, showcasing his torso through the opening in his shirt. “Please tell me, Analee.” He paused, continuing to comfort his form by adjusting the tightness of his clothes to but a fragment of their former hold. “While there are hundreds of blood-thirsty demons outside just waiting to devour the weak and injured.” He smiled, knowing he fell in that category for the moment. “How do you retain such a lively temperament?” He inquired. Entertaining, he still reminisced on the thought that people actually called her "Woman", it was outrageously odd to not call someone by their name, but their gender.

[Analee]

He made a compliment that Ana couldn't help but blush to. Beautiful? Her? She hadn't heard that before! It made her heart to some weird thing in her chest, which she mistook as temporary sickness. Luckily she didn't act on it and instead remained smiling before him. He continued to speak; meaning Ana had to remain silent as he did. Otherwise would be rude! She was still blushing about the whole beautiful thing.

He introduced himself as a D'angelo. That was a neat name, very unique to her. It definitely was uncommon. She rolled it around in her head a few times, just to get used to her new friend's name.

"Why am I so happy? People keep asking me that." Ana laughed at it. It was a strange question, but she DID hear it all of the time. Or she got odd looks. At least when she was asked the question, people weren't running. hen again, most still looked at her odd when she gave her response as well. How was the best way to explain her happiness? Or was it her energy?

"You see. I don't remember a whole lot about life before here, so everything is new." Her lips were never turned into a frown. She couldn't help but feel the surging happiness in her veins. It was a simplistic way of seeing things in an optimistic light. It helped make her days less tedious and more bearable. "If I'm going to be stuck here, I might as well enjoy it, right? Besides each new experience is great." She hugged him again, probably unneeded, but she did anyways. "For example, I met YOU today! So that makes today a great day!"

She paused. "But if you mean my enthusiasm.. I'm not sure. I just always have energy. I don't think I ever run out. Unless I'm sleeping. That's another story though." She probably shouldn't have mentioned that, but did it really matter? Ana had already had her nice long and ridiculously heavy nap, so she should be good for a day or two. At least that's what she guessed.

[D'Angelo]

She blushed. The appearance of rubicund red around the soft curves of a woman’s face wasn’t something the charming gentleman of Italy was foreign. Having the unique benediction to remember a time before death, he could clearly see himself, during life, allowing such sensations to feel the features of many; especially her. The walks through their vegetable garden, the mornings during holidays and the smiles she exuded when given her gift, and lastly, the nights filled with passionate whirlwinds in which subtle sighs turned into deep moans in a matter of moments. Ah yes, the flushed faces, how it elevated the egos of many men. Nonetheless, to D’Angelo, it was nothing more than a remembrance of what he was once blessed with. It was something he planned to collect again in the near future, if his efforts were deemed praiseworthy by the heavenly father.

In front of Analee, D’Angelo appeared as nothing more than a relaxed statue. Quiet and still while his thoughts encircled his reality for the brief moment they surfaced. Eyes closed and several sighs escaping his lips in pure euphony, it wasn’t until his world shifted back to the deathly granite and blood stains that his sighs of joy soon took on a depressive quality. Too good to be true, he mused, tilting his head forward and scratching the nape of his neck with his free hand. It was irritating, these random flashbacks he acquired; truly, having memory of life was both a blessing and a curse in disguise. If Analee was tenuously evil or had him on her list of merciless endeavors, surely she would have ended him in that moment of weakness.

“Meeting me? Gorgeous, I wouldn’t consider that a good thing.” He exclaimed, his words muffled only slightly by the burning stick between his lips as he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He was a man of very, very few miracles for others. A second lifetime spent continuing the cycle of violence he conceived during his golden years, he lived for one thing, the complete obliteration of rancorous spirits—the demons. He had nothing else driving him, no happiness, not even sorrow, but a sole obligation he made to himself, and the God in which he praised favor to. Analee, she was a rarity amongst their kind, so was he. They displayed differences many Poltergeist and fiends alike couldn’t fathom. However, this didn’t speak for the masses, and as such, he had nothing to look forward to than the sounding of his Gun burning holes in his oppositions.

Nonetheless, he was at least put to ease when she mentioned he was a good part of her day. “But I must say, your words of kindness do touch me, Analee.” Taking one final hit of his cigarette, he flicked the bud aside, allowing it to tumble down the long stretch of wall before taking to a stand, though after accepting the generous hug she had to offer him.

“Sleep? It’s a beautiful thing, like you. But it can be dangerous.” like you, he failed to mention the last part aloud, however, as his eyes donned upon her, narrow crimson leveled with allure of her own. Could he actually trust her? Leave himself, wounded might he add, in the presence of another demon? Sure, she was cute and boosted a body fit for a goddess; nonetheless, this could have been a part of her gambit. Lead men away with her charm and sap their last breath with her kiss. It was quite ample in literature and while a man of charm himself, he knew It wasn’t a feat unique to his character.


“Your eyes, they glisten well in the light of this world.”

He smiled charmingly.

[Analee]

“Your eyes, they glisten well in the light of this world.”

Her heart did a weird thing again. Was she actually getting sick then? It wasn't so much the words, but the way he said them. Ana was so simply baffled, that she was silent a moment. Such sweet words, this man spoke. No one had treated Ana like this, ever. It made her excited and stirred a sort of warmth in her chest. Her smile didn't fade. Of course, neither did the blush. In fact it had brightened a bit.

She wasn't sure how to respond. "I-I uh.." Her words were staggered and hesitant words. After she completely changed her posture, she had her hands pressed in her lap. "Th-thank you!"

There was another couple seconds of silence as she focused on the man. Bright red hair was nearly the same color as hers. His face had a smooth and suave look to it. His eyes were as bright red as his hair, which reminded her of the red pulsing through her veins. "Your eyes are.. really pretty too." Her voice kind of shook a little. She wasn't sure how to compliment a person with such fancy words, but she had at least attempted. It was just one of those failures, but she didn't become disheartened about it.

[D'Angelo]

Through the spherical bastion, very few survived without certain qualities: strength, intelligence, determination, stealth. They were elements of a true warrior and truly severed the ties between the frail and the prevailing. In a reality that truly lived by the dogma of “Dog eat dog”, survival of the fittest was of the highest importance, and all demons, eve the naïve, should have been aware to such a rule of thumb. Those that faltered died. And the others, that truly kept the fundamental rules of Hell closed to their heart strings, found their thread pulled less frequently. Simplistic and almost bestial, the manner in which were meant to live, it give life to the few liberators that would make a difference. Sadly, it also bred the shrewd, and those who exhibited the last element of subsistence.

Through the shadows, a predator coiled through the annals of ruined stone and rubble. Its body contracting and expanded as it snaked its way through the Coliseum hastily. Slit eyes and a subtle hiss, its presence was unidentified for the moment, and that’s exactly how it wanted it. With a growl, also quiet to the impending ears ahead, it made haste towards its eventual meal. “Two demons… peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerfect…. I can feast favorably today!” It was mouthwatering, the thought and that alone forced his movements faster as it slivered through the corridor. Meanwhile and simultaneously, however.

^---

She folded her hands into her lap, and this introverted language of the body brought a pleasant smile to the Demon’s face. Never had his eyes settled upon a creature of the damned, and felt so at ease. She was calmative to the touch and soft on the eyes and while still an abolished atrocity—much like himself—she didn’t choose a similar path to her kinsmen. This alone gave Analee favor in D’Angelo’s eyes, and for the time being, his gun wouldn’t be lifted to her head. But instead, resting still at his side while he soon moved into discourse to compliment her own. She complimented his eyes, and while a ruby never equated to an emerald, they were both beauties, nonetheless.

“Thank you, Analee. Truly, I’m humbled.” He’d reach out, grasping one of her tucked away hands with one of his own. From there, guiding it to his face and adorning it with a subtle kiss was effortless. All the while, he gazed at her, his eyes never leaving her visage as his full lips left but a faint trace upon the surface of her skin. From here, he’d let go, allowing her hand to go its separate ways, retreating back into her lap or even confronting the side of his face; it was her prerogative that would decide what happened next. Nevertheless, following her response did D’Angelo’s demeanor shift, and his eyes narrowed and chased over to his side.

Scum, within that very instant, before Analee could do anything, D’Angelo’s hand, which sat limp upon the handle of Espiatorio excited. The holy Gun danced upwards and rested just to the side of Analee’s face, however, from her prospective, it would seem as if he were angling at her. “Duck” He called out calmly, and she had a split second to react as several rounds of pure blue exploded from the weapon’s barrel.






Everything went silent and as wisps of smoke lifted from the end of D’Angelo’s gun, Analee—be it in shock or anger—would see that her life was in no danger. “I apologize for the abruptness…. I couldn’t let that thing harm a single hair on your beautiful head.” the appealing Demon couldn’t help but to deploy words of charm as he coughed soon after, dropping Espiatorio and constraining his hand over his mouth. If Analee took her attention off D’Angelo for but a moment and looked to her rear, she’d see the corpse of a freshly-slain demon, one with six rounds embedded into its slender frame as its blood twirled along the flooring beneath them. Its intentions were clear and its mouth open, the beast was in the midst of advancing upon Analee, ready to clip her life from her vessel with a single bite. D’Angelo made sure that didn’t happen.

However, in the moment of deliverance, D’Angelo had strained himself, and moving his forearm from his mouth, he noticed traces of red along his shirt. “I’m healing far slower than usual…” He murmured in his native tongue of Italian to himself, more concerned with why his body was rejecting its natural properties. However, that could wait, having turned his sights upon the gorgeous demoness once more.


“Are you alright, Analee?”

[Analee]

He seemed to smile at her. Movements so smooth followed, which led his hand to one of hers. Analee watched with awe as he rose her digits to his mouth. Skin touched skin and there went her heart fluttering again. Ana turned a dark shade almost to match her hair. She was wordless; even breathless to respond. "I uh- " She didn't know how to respond. This man clearly had her speechless. Naturally, this was simply baffling to Ana. She always had something to say and yet, here she was blushing an unable to think of even something.

Her heart started up once again, though she was pretty sure it was beating ten miles per minute. His hand relinquished hers and she followed him with soft and mesmerized eyes. He wasn't trying, but it was as if he had hypnotized her! If he wanted to kill her, it would be the opportune time. Ana couldn't help but stare, despite how rude it was. Never had she met such a charming man! Without effort. It's how the man looked. Even when he rose a gun and pointed it at her. Quickly she came back to earth. Duck. Spoke a voice, which she couldn't recognize as his or her own, but she fell out of the way instantly. An unpleasant feeling sank in her stomach; like nerves.

Again he was speaking to her, by asking if she was okay. Honestly she was, her legs were a little bit like jell-o and her heart was jittery, but she was otherwise unharmed. Her head turned and a great beast was in her eyes. An instance of terror flooded through her veins, but she retained a pretty calm face. She looked back at him with a grateful smile. "Th-thank you!"

She hugged him again, but fully this time. Her head on his chest and all. Even if he was bleeding, Ana didn't mind. With her face still red, she pulled away. "I owe you!" For a moment, she paused. "Is it safe to be here?"

[D'Angelo]

Once again, the image of her cheeks filling with blood from the unsung emotion of affection peppered her facial features as D’Angelo placed one smooth one along her hand. What she did next had been done several times prior, nonetheless, the touch of her skin against his always seemed the newer. She fully embraced him, breast upon breast as her arms coiled around his neck and a single arm of his wrapped around her waist. This moment was nice, and invigorating to a man whose unlife has been filled with, not the touch of a woman, but that of demonic blood spill. Nonetheless, with everything good that seemed to come from this hellhole of a place, it was ephemeral.

He could hear the chuckles and stomping against the floors as the demons closed in from every corner. They had to move fast and now if they wanted to live. “Listen to me, gorgeous. Any moment a swarm of demons will infest this area and will feast upon our bodies.” Almost morbid, the charming spirit would sigh, pulling himself to a stand as he looked down at Analee. “ That’s if we stay here…. So we need to leave—now” He continued, taking Analee by the hand and soon sprinted towards the left flank of the coliseum. She wouldn’t have time to react and if she knew what was best for her, the fiery-haired woman would follow his lead regardless.

Damnit, I’m a wreck and I don’t think poor Analee has a fighting bone in her attractive body, A sad realization to come to at the most inopportune time, D’Angelo pushed the thought out of his head, his right hand tucking his Revolver away and soon gripped tightly along his waist, holding the bleeding wound at bay for the time being. “If we get out of here, you should allow me the honor of cooking you dinner” While comical to assume demons cooked ,the crimson-eyed male was nonetheless extremely serious in his words. If the woman decided to look over mid-run, she’d seem the most compelling smile plastered upon his face. Even in the face of certain death, D’Angelo could peer upon such a beautiful woman and philander with her naturally--- how suave.

[Analee]

It was again one of those times where someone grabbed Ana and began to drag her off. It seemed she had no idea whatsoever on what she should be doing. They were fleeing the demonic murder grounds without her knowledge of what was going on. She had tenancies to be lost more often than not. Led like a puppy dog on a leash, she followed, in a racing fashion, after the man whom was saving her life? Most likely the demons wouldn't have noticed her and if they did it was more than likely something of annoyance; pestilence. There was never really any danger with Ana, simply because Ba'al was not there. Ana had no interest in these demons since her master wasn't there to entertain. Was it a simplistic relationship? Indeed. Analee was a woman whom simply served an archdemon and amused him when he was bored enough. As for now, she was as harmless as a poltergeist, unless she was being assaulted. It wasn't like she'd go down without a fight.

He asked to make her dinner as they ran.. which was very strange. Normally a red light would go off if a stranger was asking a person to dinner. The man could be a murderer! Not like it was a rarity, in fact it was highly likely in Inferis. To NOT be a murderer was far more uncommon. She thought about it. Would her master even miss her if she decided to go? Probably not, since he seemed disinterested in her most of the time. A sad realization that she quickly shoved aside. Ana was always just a pretty face to people and a nuisance. The fact was she KNEW she irked people and the more she tried to change, the more she found that they just disliked her in general.

Her knee buckled a moment; body halting when the thought hit her roughly. However, she suppressed it and pushed forward. Those thoughts and knowings were what normally made Inferis was Hell. "Sure." She smiled, simply quieting the sadness in her heart to a hush. Ignorance was her best friend. Letting the joy flow through her, she could feel herself cheer up. "I'd like that."

[D'Angelo]

“I’m elated.” He responded delightfully.

In the midst of danger, in the heart of devastation and downed in the deepest trenches of the Inferno, D’Angelo still found it almost astounding that he could ask a woman out on a date. No, not the act itself, but under the circumstances, those were the dynamics that justified this impossible situation with some light. The Reaper was skulking around everyone’s corner, no one could outwit its calling and the moment its demonic steel leveraged with its prey’s neck, the last crutch of life—or their unlife—would find itself snatched from underneath the unsuspecting’s arm. It was just that easy, effortless, and provocative, and the Demon Hunting Demon knew of its fate all too personally.

With his free hand, the one that didn’t clench so tranquilly around Analee’s released shot after shot, as spurs of blue alleviated into the air, and one corpse followed by another dropped from the explosion his shells allocated. The Demons continued to swarm in without any remorse, and sadly, no sense of direction. From each corridor they engulfed, and from the ceilings and the rifts within the ground, the foul creatures flooded the lands as they stalked the two. In the core of combat and escaping, D’Angelo turned to Analee and simply smiled once again, mid-run did his pearly whites glisten and his red eyes fell behind their lids.

“Y’know, this is mesmeric—the chase—with a beautiful woman.” He announced, his gun continued to fling forth electrical fury upon the lands as they raced through the maze of demons and dead ends. Ever the rarer did escape seem to be and while D’Angelo held the ut-most confidence in himself, as well as the fiery-haired hair goddess—for the lack of a better phrase—by his side. Nevertheless, one could never forget the touch of the Devil and how frequent the ultimate defector’s fingers tugged at one’s collar.

[Analee]

The man was a foreign being to her, spoke more words that made her heart flutter. Her fingers were still laced with his as they ran. His gun stole the lives of many demons. Almost like dominoes! Except there was little to do with dominoes as he shot them down one by one. Ana kind of wished she had something more to do, but as they were running and demons behind tried to pursue, she couldn't help but be pretty useless. Waving around her sword would do much but attract more attention. Still, holding this man's hand as they fled the area they had been at.

How much further was it? The man WAS still injured after all, and she was a bit concerned he might cause himself more bleeding. She didn't have enough bandaids for that. Still that word beautiful made her cheeks burn. She couldn't help it. It was just exciting to her; a warm ball in her stomach that made her smile sincerely. He sure knew how to make Ana feel like a strange demon when she was unsure how to really even speak.

Turning her eyes to him again, she saw him flash his teeth and smile. "Where exactly are we going?" Ana asked with curiosity. She wasn't sure where the man was headed, besides away from the slew of demons all around. In fact, was it a death-mission that sent him INTO the undercroft? Most people didn't descend into such a place without a death wish. Or maybe he was just like Ana and kind of wandered there?

(Sorry a bit short)

[D'Angelo]

Where exactly where they going? “I don’t quiite know myself.” D’Angelo responded captivatingly as they continued to race through the towering edifice. In truth, the demon hadn’t quite explored this region in true thoroughness, and as a direct result of his lacking diligence, the two were as brain as bats in this situation (at least the demon assumed considering she didn’t know exactly where to go). They were stuck in this labyrinth and couldn’t find an exit. All the while, a swarm of bloodthirsty demons flocked in attempts to catch the two and enjoy a good afternoon’s meal. The thrilling irony of all, really.

 
Wincing, D’Angelo looked down at his wound, and the over-growing stain of red that tainted his clothing in the process. He needed to rest and regenerate as best he could or this escape would be cut short. Tugging Analee, though smoothly, to the side, the crimson-haired specter moved down an contiguous corridor, swift and concealing, the two escape the impending horde that soon flocked by in a matter of moments. Hidden from sight, the two could relax in silence as the demons ventured further away and away from them. Hopefully they would have enough time and enough luck to end this graciously.
 
“I apologize for that, gorgeous. I had to –I-improvise.” Pulling his hand to his mouth, D’Angelo coughed up a small puddle of blood as he slid down one of the wall’s faces in this slender corridor towards the ground. It was become more and more evident that his pain was increasing and his wound worsening. Nonetheless, in this dark moment, at least he could regain some strength and attempt to unsurprisingly heal what was causing him such pain.

[Analee]

They were running for their afterlives it seemed.  Ana watched the man as his speed fell and blood began to color his clothes a darker color.  Her lips pulled into a frown.  This wasn't good.  Oh why couldn't she be more helpful in these situations?  Her green eyes were a bit worried which really didn't fit a demon, but seeing as she wasn't exactly normal anyways.  it just added to her appeal.. or so the few who got to know her would say.  

To the side, she was pulled and the man apologized. His body slid down a wall as he slumped and Ana dropped to her knee to examine him.  It wasn't like she knew much about healing except that sometimes band-aids helped.. however there was no band-aid large enough to cover where that blood spot.  For once she had wished she had her jacket.  It could have made a make-shift bandage.  She closed her eyes and thought.  Then it hit her.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  

It was strange, probably the first time she'd reverted in front of anyone, however with her mortal form came her soft strips of fabric.  Taking a part from one wrist that connected to her waist, she looked at him with a dead serious face.  "Take off your shirt.  I can wrap it to speed the healing a bit."  She paused and looked away.  "I mean.. please?"  Yes, that sounded a lot less demanding.  She wasn't trying anything scandalous, she was sincerely trying to help.  Her shorter reddish pink locks framed her concerned expression.

She felt odd being in such a form without her master around, but it was all she could think of.  With the fabric laid upon his waist, she waited to see if he'd let her help.  It was a strange world, Inferis, where one being barely helped another.  Ana had learned different through Ba'al, who despite being a scary archdemon, wasn't really that scary to her.  Naturally she wouldn't tell a soul unless he let her.  Him being angry.. wasn't a positive thing.

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