Huxley: Heir to Wrath:

Chapter 2

Huxley pushed open Sweet Sin’s front door and made his way back out into the cold, wet city streets. Even though he’d paid his debts, he should still find somewhere else to get drunk for the night. He didn’t want to be around when the cops inevitably showed up.
Was there anywhere else for Huxley to get drunk? He definitely couldn’t think of any other bars nearby… Well, not any he hadn’t already been banned from. He did have some cheap beers back home, from the last time Jun visited. They were weak, and tasted like a piss-soaked baguette… but it was better than going to sleep sober.
Hux’s train of thought was interrupted, as he struggled to steady himself after nearly slipping on something. It was liquid, but not one of the puddles from the recent rain – even through his shoes he could tell it was too thick to be water.
“Crap.” Hux slowly turned his gaze downward, to see a shallow pool of sticky black liquid. It was definitely blood, demon’s blood.
It took a lot of effort, but Hux managed to hold back from swearing. Today was not a good day for this bullshit.
Slowly and carefully, he looked around the corner – peering into one of the shaded alleyways where local streetwalkers and muggers did their business. There lay three people, collapsed in the center of the blood’s source. Next to them, was an angel. They were gorgeously androgynous, and filled the air with the smell of lavender and fresh baked bread. Their wings were soft and clean, pure white aside from a gentle purple at the feather tips. Their halo glowed brightly with the same lilac hue as their feather tips, somehow holding both the intensity of a neon sign and the mellowness of a campfire’s last few embers.
They were sitting on a discarded crate, meticulously cleaning their sword with a blood soaked cloth – the blade shimmering with the same bright silver of their eyes.


A note from the author ninja:

Angels and demons have gotten along terribly since time immemorial.

Nobody remembers who first escalated the arguments to acts of violence, but both sides have experienced terrible loss in the wars between them.

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    1. For the most part, angels are quite a treat to be around.
      Unless you’re a demon.
      Or it’s one of the more… “zealous” one.

    1. It depends on the demon, mostly. A lot like angels.
      Each individual angel carries a unique scent made of two parts – the first reminiscent of pastries (though what kind of pastry depends on the individual angel). The second part is floral, and the exact flower is determined by which of the seven heavenly virtues the angel is aligned with.
      Demons smell of smoke and/or ash (again, depending on the individual), and a chemical that depends on the sin they’re attuned with.
      Wrath is gasoline. Pride is tobacco. Envy is cleaning chemicals. Gluttony is grease and fat. Lust is cosmetics. Sloth is compost. Greed is booze.
      Huxley specifically smells of a wood fired stove and gasoline. He also carries the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes… but that’s more due to his habits than his demonic nature.
      Oh, and I should point out that angels carry their scent in their wings, and it tends to linger wherever they go. Demons, however, carry the scent directly on their skin. It only lingers in places they spend a lot of time, and if they shower every morning they can keep the scent off them.

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