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Angel Hunt Throughout the Years...
+ Angel Hunt +
In contrast to the heavy leathers and furs that drape the darker of the pair, Jenova is covered only in gauze-like flowing cloth that leaves his arms and parts of his chest bare, the cross draped fabric secured low at his waist by a simple gilded cord tie. Tight leathers wrap his legs the same hue as the other Demon’s hair and buckled boots that reach just beneath his knees cover his feet. His long white plaits are tied haphazardly and loosely at the back of his head with small scrolling bits of silver, while his counterpart’s locks are plaited neatly in a multi faceted braid.
While the cold effects neither man, one makes more of a show than the other to indicate the contrary, and not, Jenova notes, for any other reason than it seems to amuse his counterpart to do so. Or perhaps it, like the name he had chosen for himself is, as Mashtrim has often worded it, something to do so that he may better ‘blend in’ with those he governs, he is not sure. Either way, he has of yet to find the need for it himself as it has thus far felt to be an ill use of his time. This is, along with most of his traits and what of them he chooses to show those he commands he supposes, just another reason they worship him as they do -yet another thing that appears to have set him apart. To them, he presents a godly figure. To him however, an attempt to do otherwise is inconsequential and just as meaningless as the rest.
“-even you must admit they are beautiful” Mashtrim grins, breaking a silence they’ve shared since their return from a small squirmish had along the borders with those of the other side, resuming a conversation they’d abandoned hours prior by pulling the white haired Demon from his thoughts and back to him, as he often fancies to do.
In his peripheral vision, he can see the shorter man’s tainted gaze drag along the full length of his body in a way that has of yet, not failed to amuse him, and his only immediate response is the smallest of rare smiles that manages to tug at the very corners of his pale lips.
Mashtrim is of course, speaking of the Angels. Though whether he is speaking of them in a general sense as he has taken to as of late or speaking of the particular ones they’d only just encountered at the borders –most of whom, because it had caught his whim this time, did not survive the confrontation, he is unsure. Nor does he suppose, it really matter. Whether living and breathing or prostrate and torn to pieces, that kind has always looked the same in his eyes. He has of yet to see any more life in them now than he did shortly after they came to be and while they may claim ties to the living, in truth they hold almost none. This fact along with their overall uniformity has long since made it difficult for him to find any pleasure in their appearances. It’s long since made it difficult to see much in them beyond what they present –soulless empty shells who believe themselves to be far more than what they truly are. Mashtrim knows this of his thoughts yet he has taken to questioning it as of late for his amusement, simply another way he would guess, to pass the tedium of time. And for his own amusement he allows it, despite its increasingly tiresome nature.
“One… finds it difficult to distinguish beauty in a sea filled with those who look exact to the other…” Jenova returns quietly, his clear red gaze never once pulling from the sun as it finally disappears in the horizon. “…or within shells that persist in their emptiness.”
“Is that why you chose them then, my white haired beauty?” The darker man grins, jerking his head softly towards the encampment and to those who reside within, “Because they are different? Because they aren’t quite as empty?” Pulling his dark red gaze from the scenery, his eyes settle on the one standing statuesque at his side and he spends a moment appreciating his newest view as has so many times in the past. Turning his lithe frame to face the taller Demon, he then takes a single step closer and reaches out to touch claw tipped fingers to Jenova’s paper white skin, tracing a teasing line along his arm, “You would have integrated better had you taken to that side first, you do know this don’t you?” reaching the taller man’s shoulder, Mashtrim’s hand continues across to his clavicle, the tone of his voice dropping into a low kind of purr, “You could have taken the place of their god had you wanted, it wouldn’t have been very hard...”
“Perhaps…” Jenova replies simply, finally pulling his eyes from the sunset and sliding them over to meet his companion’s tainted red, “…had I felt the need to bother with something so trivial.”
Mashtrim smiles, “Would it have been more trivial than ruling this lot then? They really don’t have much more in their pretty little heads than the others do, you know…?” Reaching the center of Jenova’s collarbone, the black haired man’s words trail and he takes a moment to trace upwards to the taller Demon’s chin, continuing past to ghost his fingertips along the line of Jenova’s pale lips. “No,” he sighs, answering his own question before slipping his fingers away and allowing his arm to fall back down to his side, his tainted red gaze rises to meet clear crimson once more. “I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered, to them or to you. …Especially to you.” A single white brow quirks in response to this in a way that pulls amused laughter from Mashtrim’s lips and returning to the start of the conversation as if it had never gone off track to begin with, he shakes his head “You are right. I’ll never understand what he was thinking when he made them. As beautiful as they are, I’m surprised half the time they can will their bodies to move, let alone manage to form coherent thoughts.” He snorts.
“The same can be said… for us all” Jenova states, his expression as emotionless as his words, “I suppose”
Mashtrim can’t help but chuckle, “Oh, I am going to miss you. You may detest it, but he certainly did good when he put you together… it’s one of the few things he got right. I haven’t found one like you in all this time and I’m pretty sure I won’t find one again. It’s just a shame you’re so…” Tainted red eyes drag down the length of Jenova’s body and back up again, “Well… what you are.” He smirks, “For the record though, it wasn’t an easy choice to make…”
“Your flattery is… as always… astute” the white haired Demon smiles flatly and unfolding his arms, he turns from both the encampment and his companion and strides towards the warmth of the tent that waits behind. “This One does not require that you leave… that is a decision you have made on your own.”
Without another word said, the white haired man moves past the threshold, managing only two steps into the tent when clawed fingers suddenly grab onto his shoulder and spin him around. Hands then shift to his chest and shove him backwards, long legs straddling his tall frame the very instant his back hits the softness of his furs.
“Could that have possibly been affection I heard in your voice?” Mashtrim grins down at Jenova from above, his long plaited hair slipping over his own shoulder as he curls his slim body over. “For me? If I didn’t understand you like I do, I’d be honored” one clawed hand after the other sinks against the furs beneath the white haired Demon’s head and he his smile turns sly, “but we both know this is just another game to be played. After all, creatures such as ourselves have to go…” Mashtrim tilts his head to the side to steal the barest taste of Jenova’s mouth, his voice dropping to a near whisper and every word said brushing velvet lips with his own. “…where the wind dictates us to go, no matter the direction it happens to be blowing…” The grin Mashtrim wears is soon matched by the one beneath him and tilting his head in again, he can’t help teasing –one soft brushing touch after the other both given and taken before he manages to speak again, “Try not to get too jealous of them for stealing me from you. It’s nothing personal…”
“I suppose I shall try” Jenova smirks as glass tipped fingers slide up to wrap the leather covered legs that straddle him, his touch pulling a soft gasp from the one above, “If you are able to find it in you to forgive these ones for keeping this One anchored…”
“I might find that difficult, but…” Mashtrim purrs and keeping one hand planted in its place, he slips the other from the furs and slides it over to push the gauze-like fabric that covers the sculpted chest beneath his fingers open, “I could be convinced… by the right argument.” Suddenly pushing his body upward, the black haired man reaches for the gilded cord around his larger counterpart’s waist and rips it free, his tainted gaze burning, “for old times’ sake?”
“If you are… to insist” Jenova smirks and even as his tie is being cast to the ground and forgotten, he’s pushing his back from the furs, his own claw tipped fingers repaying Mashtrim’s carelessness in kind by ripping at his clothing as if they were made of little more than paper.
“Always the romantic,” the dark haired Demon gasps, “it’s one of the reasons I think I’ve always liked you so much… and one of the things about you I know I’ll miss the most...”
He’s flashed a smirk moments before mouths nearly crash together for a kiss that quickly begins to deepen while glass tipped and clawed fingers alike make short work of the barriers still standing between them, nothing held back by either as they seek to pass yet another moment of their time…