The night had descended on the crumbling ruins like a blanket of eerie silence. Even but the most brazen of animals ever dared to wander the darkened place, as though something unnatural tainted the earth where the ancient edifices stood, as though waiting for the return of their masters, even after an age of continued silence.

The crescent moon above was shining strongly in the clear sky, making the shadows deep.

Within one of those shadows, something stirred.

At the foot of the crumbling foundation of what must have once been a grand palace, a pale being shuddered our of her hidden niche, moving clumsily at first, then stood with an easy grace that would have put many a dancer to shame. Velien arched her stiff back, marveling at the clear night sky, not even bothering trying to remember where she was and how she had come to be there... she knew it was not pleasant and allowed herself several moments of ignorance as she took stock of her surroundings and meditate on her own state of being.

She inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp air of winter. There was no snow on the ground at the moment, but it was most definitely winter. Yet her skin felt no chill, and the breath she expelled was a soft mist. The sensation of breathing was peculiar, though she could not explain to herself why... her chest felt tight, like her lungs were unused to the action.

Finally, after she had climbed atop the crumbling wall, she let her mind wander to the last several days... and it came back like a nightmare.

Velien began weeping when she remembered... the last week came back to her in a montage of fear, pain, blood, and finally... death. First hers, then... The tears fell freely down her fair cheeks as she realized what she had become. And with that came the realization that the blood staining her face and hands, was not her own.

She had managed to become something horrible, something her foster family would never accept. Not after she had taken innocent blood... She had become a monster. A being known by many names. Nosferatu. The damned. But the most common name was vampire.

Velien tried to collect her thoughts, to remember. To plan. But all she could take in was the scent of the blood staining her skin, knowing that someone had died as she was lost in her first thirsting for blood. Possibly even more terrifying to her was the scant, confusing memories she had of that night. She didn't remember who it was she killed. She didn't remember face or gender. Just that she had taken the blood willingly and that it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted...

And as Velien wept, she began to realize the pangs of hunger were returning...

Gregory shivered as a cold breath of air fluttered his long hair about and rustled his wings. He sneered and brushed the thought of a cold from his mind as he looked down a long-crumbled hole to the tomb below. He had followed the tracks he was shown until he was brought to this place, to find a certain evil girl. The villagers he had came to spoke bravely of her, but merely out of the fact that they took comfort in his angelic appearance. His holy aura was glowing timidly, but he was not worried about being seen from below with such a musky darkness. Apparently, the evil thing he was chasing fed on the blood of on of the younger girls. The daughter of the mayor's daughter. She had not even reached the age of two yet, and the horror sent the mother to force her own grave in misery. Now the mayor was deeply depressed, having no heirs of blood to take his seat after him, he wanted this beast's ears as payment, and Gregory wanted redemption for such a horrid sin.

His lips curled and his ears perked as he noticed movement down below. The creature was awakening, rising. It would soon be time to act, and thus Gregory removed the leather sheath from the blade of his spear and spread his wings, flexing his hands for he strenuous work they were sure to soon perform. As the beast began to move more fluidly in its spot Gregory leapt backwards from the dome-roofed structure and flapped his huge wings lightly, slowly lowering himself level with the door. With yet another sigh of contempt he blared his holy aura as bright as he knew how, emitting enough good that it fought the dark and evil of this place and succeeded. The halls of the temple lit up as he entered and walked a short distance to the main room, spear in hand. The mists parted before him and the room lit up. A figure of a young girl standing in a corner. The darkness cowered at her feet.

"Redemption is at hand...You must pay for your sins... I am the gavel of the greatest judge, and I will banish you to the planes of the abyss."

Velien was only vaguely aware of the sound of large wings flapping before the sudden, horrible light temporarily blinded her. It felt as though her eyes were being burned from their sockets as she threw a hand protectively in front of her face more out of instinct than anything.

When she tentatively opened her eyes, she was able to withstand the light as she shrunk back into the shadows behind her. When she heard the unknown slayer's voice, she recoiled as something in her chest seemed to tear. Had her foster family learned so quickly of her fall? She knew if they had, they would not hesitate to send an assassin. She would become a black mark on their prestigious family history and she knew Ves'vor'eis would not stand for a demonic being, especially one that had previously been a servant of Celestia.

Yes, this was her foster father's final judgment. It had to be. Velien was surprised that the great archon did not come himself to finish her. If he did not deem her worthy enough of a formal meeting, then she would fight. She had no desire to die, despite her disgust at what she had become.

Instinctively, Velien reached for the scimitar that normally hung at her side... and balked when she felt only the side of her left, the bloodstained cloth of her torn skirt. No weapons... the only armor she had were her worn out, hard leather bracers. Damn. Her eyes flew to scan the room around her, looking for anything she could use for a weapon. A reflection caught her eye behind her. It looked like dingy metal...

Taking a cautious step back, she locked eyes with the approaching celestial being, bringing her closer to the faintly glinting blade...

Gregory slowly began at a walk to the right of the door, keeping his eyes locked on hers. She was much like a friend he had met a while back, yet she was so different. The girl was not through and through evil, but she was not fighting so much as resigning. A pang of pity flashed his mind and his brows slightly softened, but he quickly pushed it away. Perhaps this was to be Aether Draka's presumed future, he no longer knew and it didn't bother him. He had built something of a mutual understanding with the girl, but in no way would it bar him from killing her if she tainted this beautiful land. He gave his spear a quick spin into his other hand and turned on his heels, walking back the other way.

The girl was reaching out for a metallic object. He would not stop her; in fact, he nodded his head in a single gesture towards it. He would not attack her unarmed unless he physically unarmed her. His magic flexed it's might within' his body, telling him he could do more, and in time he would listen, but as of now he was far too content with studying this girl and how she studied him. He was reminded of a starving dog staring at a piece of bread on a table. Switching his spear yet again, he turned and continued to walk.

As he reached the front of the door he first came in he stopped, turning lightly to face the girl he brought in his holy aura to act as nothing but an outline of his body. His wings spread completely as white and yellow waves of visible magic washed over his body, gathering in spots and eventually becoming no longer magic, but solid. This spell had taken quite a while to master. His first attempts often ended with him passing out from exhaustion with one various part of his body armoured, but finally he had nailed it literally a day before he was confronted with the task of hunting this girl. The armour was white and gold, as his magic was. It covered the entirety of his body besides his head, obsidian hands and wings. His spear easily lit up with his blessed weapon command, and he assumed a brilliant stance. His wings half in and his spear at the ready at his side.

He extended his obsidian hand, which was not holding the spear, and made one quick motion signalling her to attack first. He would give her ten seconds to attack before he dove in.

(Gah... seriously late I know. Considering this thread would normally be considered 'dead', would you be at all interested in continuing it? I'll try to reply much more often, if so. If not, then ignore this post. It was fun writing nonetheless.)

She almost seemed to wince when he gestured to the weapon. He was going to let her fight back. Not giving him a chance to reconsider, Velien grabbed the blade's handle, testing the weight and giving a quick inspective glance at the weapon. It was a scimitar, not as old as the ruins around them, but it had definitely seen better days. The blade was dull and pitted... it barely had an edge.

With a resigned exhale, she looked back to the shining figure, who cast a spell, covering himself with magically conjured armor. He was obviously more powerful. She could only imagine what power he must possess, with an already magnificent display of power before her.

Anxiety made her grip the weapon tighter, flipping the blade so that it matched the curve of her arm, parallel with it. She nervously dug her bare feet into the ground, spreading her legs and taking a prepared stance. For a moment seemed to stand still. And she remembered. All at once, her training in Celestia replayed itself in her mind... hours and hours of drills, practice, and testing... Ves'vor'eis' lectures on the meaning of being a warrior in the name of Celestia... it was a non-stop montage of all her time in the heavenly plane that had been her home.

A warrior of the heavens she was meant to be. A being of the damned she became.

Now there was silence. And she realized that her foe was waiting for her to strike. She took a breath and released it, a cloud before her face in the chill of night.

Velien launched herself forth, charging the spear-wielding man, the blade still held back with her arm, waiting until the last minute to dart aside and attack his flank. She just hoped her tactic worked as she darted forth, bare feet pounding the ground in the six to ten strides it would take her to meet the celestial Infused.

Gregory stood and watched as the girl picked up the dull weapon, and questioned what was happening as she gaze off into the distance, her eyes emptying and returning to life momentarily with a new sense of, purpose, he supposed. Her once-before awkward grip on the weapon swiftly reverted to a fluid motion, her arm and the sword as one. He recognized this as being very similar to the celestials’ stance. He shook the similarity off as nothing, and flinched slightly as the woman dove towards him.

Time seemed to slow as it always did when the adrenaline rush of battle boiled his blood, and with a roar he lunged forward to meet her, spear in hand. Mid-flight he began to wonder whether her stance read deeper to be the celestial art, or whether it was indeed just similar. Were it the actual stance, then Gregory was in for a fight, but it was nothing he hadn't beaten before. The celestial spear defeated the sword as the axe defeated the spear and the sword defeated the axe. It was an old circle, and the angels balanced it rather than trying to change it.

Closing in on the girl, he jabbed outwards with his spear, pulling it back in the same fluid motion and going for a typical round-house kick.* He wasn't sure if any would connect, but it was worth a try. His balance focussed on one foot, his arm extended out to use the ground to balance him, and he hoped that his actions would distract the girl enough to not see this obvious weakness. Hope was never enough when he fought with the celestial swordsmen.

(*) Wondering if there is a better name for this? >.< I imagine most people can visualize the roundhouse kick, rather than me explaining the half-moon rotation.

A lake. Larger than that. Perhaps an ocean. An ocean of viscuous red liquid, oddly warm on his bare skin. Seele looked at the flat surface that stretched to infinity in all directions, dark red and motionless. He tentatively trailed his fingers across the surface, watching the ripples rapidly disappear. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he uneasily tasted the dark liquid. Blood. I hate it when I'm right. The elf sneered and looked around again, searching for a landmark. The sky was dark, and although the sky was clear of clouds, no stars shined. The blood seemed to stretch on forever, although his feet were touching the ground. Despite his heigth, it reached torso, just above his ribs. Seele turned around, but there was nothing in any direction. He sighed, dipping one hand into the ocean of blood and scooping out a handful. Suddenly, a deep, booming voice interrupted him, almost causing him to fall into the ocean.

"DO YOU NOT RECOGNIZE IT, ACCURSED ONE? IT IS THE BLOOD OF THOSE YOU HAVE KILLED..." Seele looked for the voice, but no one could be seen. He opened his mouth to reply when he heard another noise. This one was entirely different. It was a furious battle roar, accompanied by a clash of metal. The sounds of battle.

"Ha... was it so few?" The dark elf opened his eyes, returning from his troubled sleep. A nightmare, most would call it. But in this land, it was Seele who was the nightmare, not the other way around. The elf did not remember falling asleep in the crumbling cathedral, but he must have. He sighed and brushed his silver hair out of his eyes, golden eyes quickly scanning his environment. He was in one of the upper floors of the ruin, in the belltower. The ancient, rusty bell, missing only its great clapper, hung from a rotting support that would probably drop its ancient load any day now. Seele grabbed his hat and velvet cloak from the ground, throwing them on in one smooth motion as he stood. A fight had awoken him from the dream. He was intrigued, now that he was awake... and slightly irritated that his sleep, always in short supply, was interrupted by some probably childish scuffle. The shadow sorceror brushed off the cloak before pulling out a long, wickedly sharp dagger and descending to the next floor, carefully navigating on the rotting stairs. here, there was a path to another hole int he once-great wall across the rafters. He seemed to glide across the rotting beams, as silent as a shadow. Here he crouched, in order to hide from any searching eyes below.

Seele's eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that it was impossible to read his emotions. A powerful celestial being was fighting a small girl. He could sense the darkness that was only now developing in the girl. She was not yet ripe, but soon she would bloom into a dangerous fruit. She could not be allowed to perish at this stage. Seele prepared himself to jump from the hole when the celestial turned to kick the girl, revealing its face. "Faust..." Seele had encountered him once before, in this very ruin. They had been, by some twist of fate, allies for a brief period of time. But now his mere presence was an annoyance to the demonic infused. All Seele could think about was falling from this hole and rending the celestial being limb from limb. It took all of his strength not to do just that, instead watching the battle with a cool, calculating gaze. The chance of her defeating him was slim. That could not be allowed.

"Faust, Faust, Faust..." Seele's whispered words were crystal clear and emotionless, yet laced with an undercurrent of malice. "Depart this place." The dark elf stood, gazing down at the battle. "Do not make me hurt you..." Despite the threat, Seele's face remained blank. his glowing golden eyes stayed locked on the celestial infused. The shadows behind the elf grew darker, as tendrils of darkness began to wrap around his arms and legs. "Leave the girl be."