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Armand didn't even bother to consider how it would appear to the ifrit. The time-lord stepped in front of the oncoming load of shrapnel and spun his back to the blast. He hardly winced as his back was loaded with scraps of razored metal and looked town to the ifrit for a moment before turning back to watch Ferdinand's vehicle speed away, acting like he completely did not just protect the ifrit from a face full of scrap metal. In the confusion, a man was scrambling away from the explosion and nearly barreled into the two of them.
Armand was in no mood. The terrified man was grasped by the suspenders, pulled to the time-lord. The man was met with a sharp blade into his gut and shoved to the side, hard against the lamp post and stared on, disinterested in the now dying man has be bled out, howling in agony. “Useless sheep.” he muttered.
“They won’t act now, with one of their own arrested, He’s on his way to the courthouse now.”
“We shall have to remedy that.” he replied calmly. “Gavrio will be the one. We must simply..... Have a strong influence in his actions.” he smirked, obviously suggesting possessing the man to accomplish this task. “His participation is crucial. He will the handmaiden of death, whether it is of his free will or by ours.” He began walking away, leaving a trail of scarlet behind him as the blood from his injuries had soaked through his suit jacket.
Iblîs nodded slowly at the Reaper’s retreating figure. Why had the Reaper stepped in front of the shrapnel? Iblîs would not have been too harmed – a few cuts, but nothing he wouldn’t be able to heal. Pale eyes looked to the human that was now howling from pain. His legs finally remembered to move, and he jogged to catch up with the tall Lord of Time. He stood in front of him and glared up at him. “Why did you do that?”
“You are leaking,” Iblîs said, pointing to the trail Reaper was leaving. His tone didn’t suggest concern at all, but annoyance. “You are going to draw attention to yourself, and we do not have time for such matters,” he hissed, drawing the Reaper inside of an alley. He kicked the backs of his knees stubbornly to get the man down to his size. “Down, now.” He tugged the pieces of metal out. He looked at the blood-stained suit and his mouth watered hungrily.
He put his hands on the Reaper’s back, his energy flickering to his wounds and closing them up. The blood on the suit dried and crusted, crumbling away when Iblîs patted him off. “Don’t be so reckless, Reaper.” He exited the alley, watching for Gavrilo.
“Do my actions perplex you?” He only smirked down at the ifrit calmly. Hi ignored Iblis' protests to the fact he was bleeding profusely. It hardly bothered Reaper as he had quite the formidable pain tolerance. Oh Iblis could have quite the temper when he was confused and annoyed. Reaper was enjoying himself, perhaps too much. He had a few centuries worth of torment to make up for. Which in turn, most likely sparked Iblis getting tangled up into his past. But it was worth it.
“Down, now.”
Armand grunted softly as his knees gave out from beneath him and brought him down. He simply rested his forehead and hands against the wall of the alley as Iblis grumpily removed the shrapnel and took to closing the wounds. “Be careful.. One may get the misconception that you were concerned for me.” and remarked as he glanced over his shoulder and pulled himself to his feet once Iblis and patted away the dried blood. The Reaper was more than aware of the effect blood had on the ifrit, particularly his.
“Don’t be so reckless, Reaper.”
And the little ifrit crept to opening of the alleyway and The Reaper's smirk never wavered. He placed his thumb between his teeth and bit down harshly to split the flesh. It bled quite fiercely and The reaper smirked down at him. While Iblis was distracted with watching for their would be puppet assassin, Armand passed that bloodied thumb across Iblis' lips. Just enough to taunt him before withdrawing his hand and leaning against the wall to aid in their search. “Perhaps it would be prudent for us to search for him. He may not come to us”
Iblîs narrowed his eyes at the Reaper’s back as the Lord of Time mentioned any misconceptions. “Shut your mouth,” he said irritably, dragging a shrapnel out slowly and slicing down the flesh more than was needed. “I’m not concerned for your well-being and we both know it,” he pointed out coldly. “But if you continue to pour out blood, you’ll leave a trail. You should have just let the shrapnel hit me, as I could have taken care of my own wounds without the mess you left.”
His eyes widened as the Time Lord touched his lips. Heat fled to his face, and he turned around angrily, pushing the hand away. The Reaper was casually leaning against a wall, and Iblîs scowled at him. His tongue flicked out, licking the blood away automatically. A shiver rolled down Iblîs’ spine, and he kicked the Reaper in the shins. “Don’t do that again,” he growled. “Just stop messing with me, Armand!” He rubbed his lips with the back of his hand angrily, wiping the rest of the blood away.
He glared up as the man suggested that perhaps it would be ‘prudent’ for them to look. Iblîs crossed his arms and turned away from the Reaper stubbornly. “No,” he said. “We can stay right here. I know he’ll come to us,” he said crossly. His fists were clenched, and anger was very clearly rolling off him. If Armand were anyone else, they would have already been murdered. Viciously.
His eyes locked on Gavrilo as the boy walked past the alley, and Iblîs casted a vaguely smug smirk over to Armand before disappearing in a mist of pale green. He wrapped around Gavrilo before entering his body. He stumbled a little, unused to the sudden height. “Now just to find the Archduke. He should be coming from that direction,” Iblîs said, stumbling forward in the direction he knew the Archduke would be coming from.
Vengeance was to sweet a temptation to ignore as he watched the ifrit absolutely fume with annoyance. Armand let out a soft sigh. Now was not the time. There was a war to spark. He turned his attention back down the alleyway as he watched the commotion of people scattering from the confusion like roaches in the light. Such fragile and easily led animals.
“Now just to find the Archduke. He should be coming from that direction,”
The Reaper's lips tugged into a smirk as he watched the ifrit struggle to find a new center of balance. Pale blue eyes locked on Gavrilo's. It was a pity that his Raven had to be forced to take this idiot human's body. Armand was sorely tempted to break down this fixed point even further and simply end the Arch Duke himself. To calmly let his blade to the work. Perhaps even claim a little of the glory for starting what would become a mass execution of thousands of human lives.
Surely one more kink in the cogs wouldn't matter. “Let us be quick in the matter. I'm eager for the bloodshed to begin, Iblis.” he murmured quietly, his gloved fingers tightly gripping the hilt of his sword that was encased in what looked like a simple walking cane. His grip caused the leather of his gloves to creak in protest. “One swift shot to the throat should end him” he smirked as if considering the best was to assassinate him.
Luckily Gavrilo was a relatively short man. Unfortunately, the man looked disconcertingly Jewish. He even reeked of it. Iblîs scowled, holding the gun in his hand contemplatively. He glanced over to the Reaper with a canted head. “I agree,” he said, and then blinked, startled at the voice that wasn’t his own. It was deeper than what he was used to. He cleared his throat almost sheepishly. “The quicker this is done, the faster the war will be triggered,” Iblîs said, continuing down the sidewalk. “It’s going to be a long walk to the palace, so we should…”
He trailed off, hearing the hum of a car near them. A thin smile spread on Gavrilo’s expression – the driver must have taken a wrong turn. “The throat?” he repeated, raising the gun with a tilted head. Iblîs had never shot a gun before, but he had been shot many thousands of times. He had been stabbed, poisoned, he’d had his eyes clawed out before, but all those were temporary. Iblîs was close to the car – just over a meter. The Archduke looked at him, and a cold smirk curled at Gavrilo’s lips.
Bang.
Duchess Sophie’s eyes widened, and Iblîs let out a soft sigh under his breath. “Wrong one.”
Bang.
Blood. The Archduke’s hands flew to his neck. Iblîs stared at the blood hungrily, remaining rooted to the spot. The duchess fell over into his lap, and Iblîs stared at the man as he tried to plead with her not to die. Iblîs fists clenched, watching the attendants. Iblîs looked to Reaper and dropped the gun, offered an impish grin, and ran into the crowds. A green mist poured from the man’s mouth as the authorities caught him. Iblîs reformed next to him.
He smirked as the car sped away, watching Sophia bleed out while The Archduke cradled her in his arms. His frozen blue eyes trailed down to the ifrit who had once again stood beside him and the smirk faltered. His eyes closed and reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. He know it wasn't the sort of filthy sensation that he meant, but it was meant to be a gesture of sympathy. “Humans in general are quite loathsome. I do not envy you, Iblis.”
He lifted his gaze once more as he watch the chaos unfold. The world would soon be at each other's throats and the suffering and bloodshed that would ensue.. His fingers curled tightly in those gloves, the leather creaking under the strain and he gave the ifrit a feral smirk. “Once you have regained your composure.. we should celebrate. I think a proper bloodbath would make you feel better?” he offered, those deep dulcet tones almost a low rumbled purr.
Iblîs clutched the handkerchief with a bemused expression on his face. “Thank you,” he said eventually, wiping his hands with it before reaching up to tuck it back into the tall Time Lord’s breast pocket. “Your sympathy is well-received,” Iblîs muttered, a slight undercurrent of sarcasm in his voice. He crossed his arms, staring up at the tall man with a note of irritation in his frown. This man was entirely too… strange. He didn’t understand why the Vetales had insisted upon their meeting, and he wasn’t sure why he felt such a magnetic impulse to follow him.
And if there were anything in the world he hated other than humans, it was not understanding. “While a proper bloodbath does sound fun,” Iblîs said quietly, watching the gloves curiously as they groaned with strain, “we must wait until the humans initiate it. It wouldn’t do for them to become suspicious. Or, for that matter, any nonhuman.”
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