Long post... just wanted you guys to get a feel for the character.
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A foot on the earth.
That foot twisted a little, digging into the gravel.
When is the last time my foot touched the ground?
Such a simple thing, really. I was a angel. When you have wings, you fall through the air, a loving of the pure rush fills you. Your feet become only anchors to the world of the brown earth. I haven't used my feet in so long...
I lifted my head slowly. The town shown in the brilliant light of a new day.
My "start" point was a large construction site. Or rather, a future construction site, as it was just a large field covered with signs and gravel. One of the closest signs stated that the construction would start in a few day. I looked around me and saw a large box filled with random trash.
A squatter...
They made me a F***ing squatter...
I couldn't help myself, my head rolled back and a laugh rolled out. That old man, he has the greatest sense of humor, I don't care what anyone says.
I opened my eyes, brushed away a stray tear, and spoke to nothing in particular, "Alright, your joke is made, now about that chaos you wanted?"
A light wind came from the south and felt something brush my leg. I looked down and there was a large dog and a duffel bag. I immediately keeled down to pet the dog, noting his collar.
"Hey Snuffie, how are you boy?"
A cheery yap came from the dog. I ruffled the short hair and scratched behind the ear. Dogs like this were in Haven, we made sure of that long ago. It's a well known fact a good dog will follow it's owner anywhere, who are we to fight it?
A girl came walking up. Her step was slow and very cautious. Her purse was bouncing in the wind on her hip.
"Wow, mister, Snuffie came right up to you, he usually avoids people."
"Really? He's such a sweet dog, though." I meant that.
I picked him up and helped her get the dog back on the leash she was carrying, as she would have a hard time normally. I'm surprised that she even followed the dog, as she was blind. I put the lease in her hand and wrapped it around, no use for Snuffie to get away again.
She thanked me and went on her way. I watched her intently.
Words came to my mind, specifically Isaiah 55:8.
I waited till she was out of earshot, with some room to spare, as blind people do hear so well. I picked up my bag and followed quickly.
As she got into a crowd of people I followed more closely. I kept my eyes squarely on her, and more importantly, her dog.
Then I saw it, a man come out of alley as she passed by and brush pass her, ever so discretely.
Target locked.
I walked in a straight line behind her and brushed by the man, lightly butting heads.
Demon, I'm dam sure of it.
He didn't give me a second look as he nearly pushed me over. I mumbled a apology. Nobody notices a squatter.
I sped up and with far more discrete than the man that had stolen it, placed the blind ladies wallet back in her purse. Old habits die hard so they say, he probably didn't even think to do it.
I turn around and looked at the demon walking away. I noted the black/white hair, the pale skin, the olive eyes, and a large dose of egotism.
There's a reason demons live in big cites, if they didn't there egos could be spotted a mile away.
How times have changed. They used to try and hide, now they just blend in. A get-up like the one he was wearing hundred years ago would have gotten me labeled a communist and sent to prison without a trial... and I know that from experience.
I felt proud however, to be part of a tradition, a tradition built on sheer belligerent violence toward demons such as these. A long standing and unbroken tradition.
Mr. Demon continued down the street. He didn't even notice me in the crowd of people, as half a dozen girls were watching him much more closely than I did. Eventually I stopped following him at all, instead keeping within earshot of a rather large group of fan girls...
Note to self: Get some fan girls.
Listening to the fan girls were... interesting. I learned things about Mr. Cider that I'm pretty sure even he didn't know. Or wanted to.
Note to self: ... second thoughts on the fan girls...
He took a turn down a street while I stopped at the ever present corner hotdog salesman. I ordered a german and watched Mr. Demon take another turn into a cafe. It made no use to follow him, the damn girls knew his modis operi so damn well that a betting pool was formed on not what restaurant he would go into, but rather if he would ruffle his black or white hair on entering (I'm happy to report a profit of 50 dollars on the outcome). I really wonder if he knows there's black market for his used underwear...
The bum of the demon, which, evidently, has a yearly income larger than three small countries, was firmly rested in a comfortable looking seat. His attention diverted to a young female in the Cafe.
Me, on the other hand, was in a pizza parlor across the street, with 8 or 9 of his fan girls. By now the stalker tendency had calmed down and they started talking about normal stuff. They pulled out some fashion magazines and actually invited me to join in on some of the surveys. One pulled out and textbook for French, one of the languages I speak, and we soon had a great conversation going in rapid french to help her practice. She was going to Paris next year, and wanted to really immerse herself in the culture.
However, I kept one eye on the cafe, and Mister Cider. Who are you sir, and more importantly, who are your friends...
