Angel Hunt and Streifen in Modern Day
Aly/Mijah: Pale green eyes narrow as a soled foot catches him squarely in the shoulder, rocking the tall Selestarri back as the pink and white haired teenager struggles. In spite of both his and Aly’s efforts, the other teen manages to roll, dragging the chair along with him and placing it between them like a shield. His attempt to snatch at the foot that hit him is blocked by a wooden leg, but Aly latches onto their captive’s arm, wrenching it away from its protective cover. For her trouble, the chair is smashed like a club against her small frame, and she loses her grip. Long legs try to gain footing on the concrete ground, one finding enough that the other teen is able to scoot forward and drag himself partially out of the fight. But Mijah is faster and stronger, finally getting his hand wrapped solidly around one of the flailing legs and yanking hard. Cloth rips as plaid pants tear, but his grip is firm, and his other hand slips around the studded leather belt to pin down narrow hips. The tall Bright only narrowly manages to avoid the punch that swings at his face, rocking back and immobilizing their captive’s lower half with his own body. This had been a lot easier when the kid was unconscious.
Dodging another fist as the pink and white haired teenager squirms with every ounce of strength he has, Mijah glances back at his partner only to find her just behind his shoulder. “If you could do something about his arms, that would be gr—“ The sentence is cut short when crackling blue energy engulfs Aly’s hand and she slams it down on their captive’s chest. Electricity courses through the slender frame, arching it up off the ground for a long moment before it dissipates and the other teen collapses without a sound. Glazed pink eyes stare up at him, but the fight is over.
Aly eases back, the light faded from her hand. “Magic taser,” she gives by way of explanation. “It should stun him long enough to get him tied down again.” Impressed as always by her ever-changing arsenal, Mijah slides back from the still form beneath him and helps her gather the rope.
“He’s feisty.” Mijah admits, rubbing at his shoulder a few minutes later. “Zephyr always liked feisty.”
“I’m sure they’re soul mates,” Aly responds dryly, lighting a fresh cigarette. Not an inch of her perfect, pale pink hair is out of place, not a nick in sight on her flawless manicure, and not the slightest flush of exertion on pale skin. Nothing ever seems to faze his partner, and how she’s able to manage it all has always been one of those secrets he can’t seem to unlock.
Looking once more over their now intricate tie-down of the pink and white-haired teen, he reaches out to tighten the knot securing a slim wrist to the chair frame as dulled pink eyes watch. “Think he’ll figure it out?” Mijah asks after a moment. All these years of waiting, of planning and searching, have been leading to this day. They promised on that rooftop to kill Zephyr for betraying them and their entire faction and now they’ll see it through. So long in the making and today will be the end. This is the culmination of their long childhood and the perfect transition into their lives as adults. A life Zephyr doesn’t understand and will never experience.
Smoke thins in a long curl from the cigarette as Aly brings it to her lips. The tip glows bright red in the dim light of the storeroom when she inhales. “Innic will do our work for us.” The gray haze around her head slowly expands as she releases the smoke, and from his place beside their captive, Mijah nods. The dark-haired Bright had never wanted any part of this, but enough clues dropped and she knew he’d go straight where she wanted him. Innic is a brilliant strategist, but his weakness has, and always will be, Zephyr.
Mijah smiles at his partner, “Then I think we ought to prepare…”
Zephyr: A persistent ringing sound breaks the blissful unconsciousness he floats in, tearing away the complete darkness like a curtain pulled from a sunlit window. Automatically he reaches for a pocket, and the small movement screams through muscles and mind alike, exploding with a pain that almost sends him reeling right back into the void. What the fuck…? It feels like he’s on the backside of a serious bender and someone has beaten his body with a dull sword, or a house fell on him, or something, but goddamn…
The sound from his phone continues and he almost lets it go, not in any shape at all to talk at the moment. But even as he makes the decision, the actual sound cuts through the fog in the blonde’s head and blue eyes snap open. That’s the sound he set for messages from Jun. Scraping himself upright, Zeph coughs weakly in the smoke that still hangs throughout the loft and drags the phone from his pocket. Swiping his thumb across the key pad, he absently wipes the blood from his face for the second time in the same day and stares down at the message lit on the screen. It’s an address, one he recognizes as the shipping district by the railway stations and at the bottom of the screen, the signature is a simple “I.”
Cold from deep within the Selestarri surges hard, fueled by fear for his boyfriend and hurt that still sits like frozen lead in his chest. Ice crisps the air, scattering through the smoke in bright streaks of glitter, and etching the nearest windows with traces of frost. He’ll destroy them if they’ve harmed Jun. Using the person he loves as bait to lure him in is reason enough, but if the Angel is hurt, there won’t be an ounce of mercy and the Wardens will be greeting the spirits of the Bright before dawn breaks. They want promises? That’s his.
Sliding the phone into his coat, Zeph climbs to his feet, raking a hand through his bangs as he surveys the apartment one last time. A moment later white runes flare bright and he drops away through the teleport…
…From just beyond the ice-frosted glass doors leading to the terrace, orange eyes watch as the Dark reads the text and disappears a few seconds later. He’d spent years attempting to convince his fellow Bright that this whole thing was useless, that they should simply let it go and move forward with their lives, sworn oaths or not. Zeph may kill Aly and Mijah, or they may kill him with the ancient magic they’d acquired, and while he doesn’t want to see either scenario played out, he’s done everything he can to level the playing field. Taking Jun was unexpected, and while he’s sure neither of his former lovers would actually hurt him, he still shouldn’t be used as bait to ensure Zeph’s participation. Closing the pink phone he’d conveniently found on the floor in the loft while the blonde was still unconscious, he leaves it on the edge of one of the decorative planters. A heavy wind blows blue-black hair into his line of vision as Innic crosses the paver stones and steps lightly to the top of the terrace’s rail. Bathed in the lights of the surrounding city, he scans the skyline as white wings unfurl to either side of his body, feathered tips spreading to their full width before he steps off the ledge…
Jun: in one brilliant flash of light that short circuited his brain, his struggles were over and now, here he sits again, bound and helpless, and waiting… as if he’d never even tried to get away from them at all.
He might no longer be gagged but he still can’t cry out, his voice silenced by the stunning magic and the Angel forced instead to watch the two Selestarri continue shifting about, each movement they make accompanied by streamers of white not dissimilar to the kind he sees when he’s high as a kite -every muffled word they speak practically impossible for him to fully hear.
No… he tries to tell them as he watches the girl finish off her cigarette and summon what could either be a spent roll of paper towels or some weird kind of scroll out of thin air. But despite his efforts, no sound passes his lips.
I’m not going to let you do this… he attempts again, this time managing little beyond the slightest of groaning noises that both Bright chose to completely ignore. Realizing quickly that his efforts are fruitless, he reaches inward for his boyfriend instead.
Zephyr… don’t come. Please don’t.
He sighs as he rolls his head forward, the effort of doing even that so monumental that it forces early dawn hued eyes briefly closed. He wants to tell his boyfriend to stay away and if he could shout it out loud, he would. He wants to tell the Dark to leave him, to not take the bait and let him figure his way out of this himself. He doesn’t want to be the reason someone he loves gets hurt again… he won’t be able to live with himself if he causes the Dark this kind of pain. He’s lost too much already with similar bullshit and he sure as hell isn’t going to lose Zeph to it as well.
He’s got to find a way to surface, to push past the fog that’s clouding his mind and break free of his bindings again. Once he does, he’s going to kick both of these jerks’ asses for all this stupidity and then get out of this place before his boyfriend can make it here to do it himself. But how… he wonders groggily as his eyes slide back open, his glazed gaze lifting to find the Bright brushing their hands in what looks to be some kind of powder… or glitter… or something completely else. How is he supposed to manage his freedom when he can’t even feel his own body or legs?
Zephyr: Frost snaps through the air as the Dark walks, the chill emanating from his lithe frame like a rolling bank of coldness. Behind, ice edges the wet footprints he leaves, taking no care to hide his approach to the place up ahead where he can sense three distinct magical signatures. Why bother to take precautions when every one of them knows this conflict is inevitable? They’ve kidnapped his boyfriend and in his terms of honor and loyalty, that’s an open declaration of war.
The hallway opens up into an expansive storeroom, dimly lit and filled almost to the ceiling with large packing crates lined up in long rows. Just beyond the first aisle, the crates have been moved to hollow out a wide space, empty except for the single chair that sits just to one side. Zeph’s gaze moves immediately to Jun, the Angel tied securely to the wooden framework, but apparently unharmed. Pink eyes lift as he steps from the shadows, his boyfriend shaking his head from side to side, but the arrival of someone he hasn’t seen in years pulls the Dark’s attention from the one he loves.
Other than maintaining a height that rivals the blonde’s own, Mijah looks only slightly older than he had the last time they’d stood in one another’s presence, same pale green eyes and ash-gray hair. Same cocky smirk. Somewhere behind them, he can be assured that Aly will likely be hiding, waiting for her moment to join in. She’s always relied on her stealth and speed to fight and the one-on-one confrontations are always left to her partner. He knows how these two fight because he learned right along with them. He knows their magic, their weapons, and their preferred styles. He knows the honor, ethics, and codes they’ll adhere to even as weapons meet and blood flies. They likely think they know everything about him as well, but he’s been removed from the Eyrie for a long time now. On Nova, he learned how to fight dirty.
Mijah opens his mouth to speak, but Zephyr is already closing in, not overly interested in hearing a speech about righting supposed wrongs and honoring old debts. He’d rather just get this over with and take Jun home. All around his tall frame, the defenses the Dark had prepared just outside the warehouse begin to light up, swirling with runes and spell weaves in an array of color. Midnight eyes snap instantly to gold in the heartbeat before the Bright’s staff is whirling out, slicing through the air so fast that it blurs and Zeph raises an arm to bat it away, only to watch his spells waiver and melt. What the…? The staff rushes in, scoring a resounding crack that numbs the left side of his ribs and unseen hands push hard, sending him staggering to the left. There’s no time to consider what just happened as battle training clicks in and he turns neatly into the stumble, long leg sweeping out to find Mijah exactly where he knew the Bright would be. He catches him just above the knee, taking it right out from under even as the staff is once again arcing down. The crystal bladed sword bats it away, magic showering down in brilliant sparks that hiss as they meet the cold that continues to stream off the blonde.
As weapons skid away Zeph is again thrown back and this time when he regains his feet, the Dark is laughing. There really have been enough years for these two to forget a few crucial things about him. About the types of magic he’s been exposed to as the brother of their people’s most powerful mage. He doesn’t know exactly what the spell is, but now that he knows it’s there, he can work around it. “Thought you pulled out all the stops, huh?”
The longsword flashes at it cuts through ice laden air, not at the Bright’s weapon, but at his legs, turning at the last second to smash the flat of the blade hard against the same knee he’d kicked just a moment before. The crunch is audible, knocking the tall Selestarri back a step, pain slipping over his face as Zeph continues to close in. He swings again and again, finding non-vital spots to numb and bruise and Mijah is pressed hard to get his own weapon around in the tight space, eliminating the danger of whatever magic he’s infused it with that sends him reeling. “You were always competitive with me,” Zeph intones flatly, the cold layered on each word reflected in the sharpness of the surrounding air. “On the training field,” he slashes at the Bright and presses forward when Mijah ducks the strike. “In the classroom,” the blade slaps against a forearm, loosening the hold on the staff and sending it skittering across the concrete floor. “In our bed.” Ice bites at the last word, crackling through the air with a snap. “It was always about who was faster, who was stronger, who could dominate the other.”
Reaching out, he snags the other Selestarri’s shirt and drags him close, the tip of his sword resting against the soft skin of Mijah’s neck. “In the end, I think we know who fucked who harder, don’t we?” The soft wince that shadows the ashen-haired teen’s face is immensely satisfying.
Focused on Mijah, Zeph doesn’t see the darting shadow slipping down from the crates overhead until the point of a thin blade pricks at his side. He glances over his shoulder with a cold smirk. “You always were the jealous type.” The amber tinted eyes that stare back are just as frigid as the cold that seeps off him in waves, and it’s good to know that some things really never do change. Seizing the moment of distraction, Mijah resummons his weapon, the staff shifting back into view just close enough to graze the Dark’s leg. Magic lights up automatically, throwing him in the opposite direction, the blade of the rapier piercing Zephyr’s unprotected side. Golden eyes blaze as the pain explodes and the blonde twists violently, ripping the sword free. But the magic is already at work again, shoving him back at Mijah, and the Bright doesn’t waste the opportunity his partner has created, whipping his staff at the back of Zeph’s head to send him crashing to the ground…
Innic slips through the shadows on the perimeter of the storeroom, moving silently as the fight begins between Zephyr and Mijah. He’d been determined to step away after he’d sent that text, satisfied that he’d fulfilled all of his own oaths to the Dark and protected the one person involved who had no part in an old fight between former lovers. Whatever the outcome was, he had been ready to accept the losses and prepared to give his explanations to the Oracle or the Council of Eleven. However, he’d only made it to the edge of the city before banking through the clouds, unable to completely allow fate to have its way in the oncoming battle. So now he slinks through the darkness, one eye on the flash of magic and the steadily increasing anger streaming from Zephyr, and the other on the room’s forgotten occupant.
Sliding up behind the chair, pink eyes turn with a glare so fierce it threatens to burn the Bright where he stands. Without bothering to explain, Innic summons a long knife, the blade glinting softly as he severs the ties binding the other teenager. Even as the rope is falling to the floor, Jun is in motion and it’s only the dark-haired Selestarri’s grip on his shoulder that keeps him from sprinting right off into the fight. “That’s not a good idea—“
His words are cut off when a resounding crack rings out through the storeroom, snapping the attention of both teenagers to the other side of the room just as Zephyr crumples to the ground. Innic swears softly under his breath. “Shit…”
Jun: There’s a coldness emanating from the Dark that he’s never felt before, tainting the very air and turning it to ice. When midnight eyes meet his, the anger he sees swimming in his boyfriend’s gaze rocks him down to his core and with a few hard shakes of his head, he renews his internal plea to the other teen to get away. But his silent words go unanswered and soon his presence is quickly forgotten as the three former lovers are suddenly in motion, each one determined to take the other out.
He can barely hear the words that are being exchanged as weapons strike and magic flairs, he can barely hear the venom that spills from the one he loves -his mocking anger lost to him completely when his attentions are pulled away from the battle now taking place before his very eyes and back the moment the tall Bright slides out from the shadows behind standing him. Anger rises quickly to the surface as he rounds his pink gaze on the other -so fierce and lethal that he could easily burn a hole in Innic’s face with his eyes alone. Without word or explanation however a knife appears in the Selestarri’s hand and a second later his bindings are cut free. Long fingers wrap his shoulder when he attempts to rise to keep him down and he’s about to tell their owner to go fuck himself when Mijah’s staff connects to the back of his boyfriend’s head.
There’s no hesitation and no thought lent the instant Zephyr smashes against the dank, warehouse floor -Jun wrenching his body free of both Innic and the chair before launching his lithe frame towards the three at his front. His movements are so swift that it sends the chair crashing backwards, taking the still immobile Bright completely by surprise.
The sound of nine rings rippling suddenly pierce the magic thickened air as he summons his sword into hand, the foreign noise pulling two sets of eyes in his direction a second before he’s reached them. One hard swing knocks the slender blade of the woman’s rapier away from the blonde and with a fluid twist of his ethereal body; another heavy swing hammers Mijah’s staff away as well.
With no thought given to himself or his own safety, Jun positions himself between the two Selestarri and the prone figure behind him, the Angel’s toned frame crouching slightly forward as he grips his sword handle with both hands before tilting the razor sharp blade outwards to defend. Brilliant gold eyes slide up just as he drops the seal that binds his wings and as the pure white appendages slip into view, not even his fear or anger is enough to brace against the oncoming pain. Feathers spread out to form a protective wall that quickly blocks the one he loves from the Bright, the agony each movement causes evident in both his strained voice and in livid dawn hued eyes that stare up through long strands of disheveled pink.
“I swear to my Maker…” The pink and white haired teen breathes through gritted teeth, fiery gaze darting from one Selestarri to the other and then back again, “If you guys even try touching him again, I’m going take you down myself.”
Innic: Even he is caught off guard when Jun charges into the fight with sword in hand and white wings spreading from each shoulder. That was unexpected. He’d known the other teen wasn’t human since their meeting at the pancake house, and it makes complete sense that Zephyr wouldn’t fall in love with a mere human, but what exactly is he?
There isn’t any time to dwell on the possibilities before Aly and Mijah are in action, springing simultaneously at their new opponent. The rapier is parried in a shower of sparks, hilts screeching to lock and the nine rings filling the warehouse with a thundering sound. The magic they’d so painstakingly acquired for their fight with Zephyr is useless here, keyed specifically for fighting Dark Selestarri. From behind, the staff whistles through the frost-edged air, aiming at Jun’s unprotected midsection. With an impressive twist, the pink and white haired teenager nimbly avoids the strike, his own foot rising up with the movement to kick at Mijah’s injured knee. With a growl of pain, the tall Bright seizes a handful of white hair, yanking Jun’s head back just as Aly rips her sword away. Weapon freed, Jun brings his sword around in a reverse arc the razor-sharp blade aimed at the ashen-haired Selestarri’s exposed torso. Mijah steps back out of necessity, but he tears a chunk of white hair free just as the sword wicks past.
Three darts of pure white light sizzle through the frigid semi-darkness from behind Jun, dead on with their accuracy as the missiles explode against his shoulder and wing. From his place in the wings, Innic immediately recognizes Aly’s spell, meant to numb instead of wound. The pink and white haired teen has no time to reflect on what just happened as Mijah is in his face again and it’s all he can do to parry the lightning quick flurry of strikes. With the swiftness of a shadow, Aly rejoins the fight and between the pace Mijah sets and the difficulty of maintaining a defense on two sides, Jun quickly begins to lose ground.
The Bright partners move in complete sync, one striking high while the other goes low, forcing the other teen to continuously shift his stance, something that becomes more difficult with each passing moment that the numbness to his shoulder and wing sink in. In another minute they’ll be dead weight and Jun will be in very serious trouble. Still, he continues to fight, his determination to protect Zeph visible with every parry of his sword and twist of his body. His love for the Dark is clearly written in the way he continues to shield the prone blonde, the way he takes hits to avoid being pushed away, in the genuine fierceness of the anger blazing from pink eyes. That is love and commitment and honor as much as Innic has ever seen from any of his own people and it moves the dark-haired Bright into action.
His sword appears between one heartbeat and the next, the long silver blade with its hilt of carved marble filling both hands as he darts across the concrete floor. Stepping easily into the fray, he knocks away Aly’s strike at Jun’s unprotected flank, whirling around the spread of white wings to parry the swinging staff he knows will be aimed at the other teenager’s head. The weapon rebounds from the zweihander’s blade forcefully enough to push Mijah back a step and the partners exchange a glance before launching forward again. Innic moves with grace and speed, his swordsmanship better than either of his opponents despite his heavier weapon. It takes very little thinking ahead to know exactly where and when each of the other Bright will strike, their actions predictable after years of training together under the same teachers. Innic’s strategy quickly shifts from defense to offense, his blade moving in shining silver arcs between Aly and Mijah. Jun recovers from the surprise of his interference and immediately pulls Aly’s attention, the two of them trading blows while Innic concentrates on Mijah.
As impressive a fighter as he is, and as brilliantly tactical and strategic, the dark-haired Bright fails to factor in a critical point: how long Jun could hold up with his useless arm and dragging wing. The overestimation makes him too slow in turning to help as he shoves Mijah to the side, too slow to get the zweihander around, and too slow to stop the glittering rapier from cutting a wound across Jun’s chest from shoulder to shoulder …