larkspur [asher]

[ARALENNE CORINNE RIDER]

i am floating away lost in a silent ballet

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i'm dreaming you're out in the blue

Mornings were never a problem for Aralenne. It wasn't that she was a morning person, who rose whenever the sun shone through her window and birds began to tweet. No, it was rather the fact that she did not need to sleep, and only did so whenever she had to. Sleep in her opinion, was a complete waste of time. It was for the weak, and it left her ridiculously vulnerable to whatsoever attack that would come her way. The thing was, whenever she had to sleep, she would be completely unconscious to the world until the very next day, and would be oblivious to anything that happened to her. She would go for days without rest, doing whatever she wanted to do into the wee hours of the morning, and continuing on forth even after the sun had already long risen. It was only when her body began to protest did she allow herself sleep, but until then, she had always been a soldier. Old habits died hard after all.

She hadn't slept since three nights ago, having continuously tried out every single common human hobby in existence, Such things included knitting and drawing, both skills in which she had managed to have an affinity for in the past week. Her efforts had been continuous, even managing to distract her from her thoughts of conquering the world for a while because she had been that curious. Now that she was on earth, Aralenne figured that she should find ways to pass the time instead of wandering around and ruthlessly killing everything she saw. The latter hobby would put a damper on her plans, and she knew full well that despite her skills, she would be killed by other angels in no time. The blonde had never been the type to take her enemies lightly, and had no inclination to start now. Yet, she knew that with Gideon on her side, they would be on their knees eventually.

Following a typical human norm that involved getting coffee in the morning, Aralenne wasted no time in heading towards the nearest coffee shop she saw. Her brows furrowed at the strange shop name, and she wondered why of all names a shop would be called after beans that were...being steamed. The fallen took the initiative to even try figuring out, but unable to see the joke, she shrugged and walked in. Her green eyes blinked in puzzlement at the menu of the variety of coffee that the shop had to offer, and after several angry groans which erupted behind her when she took her time ordering, she finally decided to allow the barista to make her whatever se wanted.

The fallen frowned at the cup of black coffee in front of her, even going as far as to dip a finger into the steaming liquid and stare at it. She was supposed to drink this? Since she had nothing else to do for the time being, Aralenne raised the cup to her lips and took a small sip. Her brows furrowed at the strange taste, and shrugging, she downed the whole thing down. The boiling coffee hardly affected her or her throat in any way, and deciding that she liked it, she was already contemplating on ordering another one. Aralenne glanced lazily out the window beside her, watching the world pass by. She sat perfectly still, her eyes unblinking, and would have passed off as a doll had it not for been the occasional shift in her posture.

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template created by NAGA for use on NIGHTMARE.[/center]

[hound4]

Sleep is for the weak. Sleep is a lie that society feeds you. Sleep is overrated. Sleep brings dreams, and Asher wants nothing more than to evade them. Cheat them out. She could cheat them out for good if she really wanted to. The creature didn’t need to really sleep, really exist, really live. This was good. This was… she was… she was okay. Yes, the gentleman fallen could do this not living thing the right way. Eventually the fallen would adapt to being not such an angel any more. Eventually things would go the way they needed to in order for everything to work out.

He had no faith left in fate. There was nothing out here that could make things easier, that could make them harder. All at once, Asher just was. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was as if a crazed mind had grabbed hold to things like caffeine and nicotine and weapons. That was it. Weapons were, at least, good. You could trust guns. Asher had always trusted guns, and it had gotten him far. Anything that could be controlled only by the person using it could be trusted, and that wasn’t something easily forgotten. Life lessons, he supposed.

Caffeine. It was, at this point, a life source. The fallen couldn’t help but think that coffee makers had become too complicated over the last seventy years though… why were things difficult? How fucking hard was it to get a cup of coffee in this lifetime? The creature stalked through town on a bright morning, sunglasses pulled firm over her eyes. This wasn’t a time to feel like she’d been hit by a truck, thank you. At least there was the fact that she belonged to a race that had never known the term hangover… it helped.

Atypical as ever, Asher makes his way through the door with a resounding thud. The creature never bothers to remove her sunglasses, instead watching the world through the brown lenses. It was easier that way, not necessarily to hide but to at least get along. She’d get along just fine with time… fuck it, it didn’t matter. He had all the time in the world. God bless being a fallen… or, you know, not bless it. Something the creature never understood, after all. What would happen when someone eventually figured out her angle? Asher’s thirst for danger was rarely sated, after all.

But yeah. Coffee. The creature couldn’t help but manage to find a woman who seemed to be a young statue… yeah. It was with a roll of her eyes that Asher ordered herself a black coffee and carefully allowed it to cool, constantly calculating. It wasn’t hard to look human if you knew what you were doing. If you didn’t know what you were doing, things could go catastrophically wrong. With a long breath blown casually through her nose, the gentleman fallen made her way to sit across from the strange blonde creature. “Usually they blink.” Three simple words, laced with only the subtlest sarcasm, and nothing more than a sip of his coffee.

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[ARALENNE CORINNE RIDER]

i am floating away lost in a silent ballet

[/size][/color]

i'm dreaming you're out in the blue

As Order, Aralenne never had time for petty human trivalties. Order was a respected individual who found her duty sacred, who stuck to it like how glue would stick stubbornly to people. Instead of glue, Order was stuck to her job, refusing to see it in a different light, and ignoring any sort of loophole that came her way. Order had no time for fun and games as she was busy guarding heaven and punishing whichever angel that were caught bending the rules as they saw fit. That angel was merciless, yet neutral and fair. Judgment was her sword and her words the law. It was why she had been that respected, and would have succeeded to the rank of an arch-angel had she not taken the initiative to revolt against heaven. Such was life.

The door to the cafe was opened and slammed. The fallen, as usual, chose to not take notice and instead continued gazing outside absentmindedly, taking no notice of her surroundings whatsoever. The world outside never cease to interest her, as she had no time for such things when she was an angel. Though she had not gotten bored of her old job, she had felt as though she had been missing something. That part, right now was being filled. Aralenne was making up for lost time by enjoying whatsoever simple pleasures the world had to offer her. She just had to make the best of it, she assumed. Her long fingers idly twiddled the empty cut before her, perfectly manicured and polished. The nails gleamed with the darkness of the night sky, Aralenne liked making herself look presentable.

It was only when a gruff voice broke through her stupor of thoughts did the slowly turn away from the window, her green eyes meeting the ebony gaze of another person's. Her blonde eyebrows furrowed at the question, her porcelain features twisting into a puzzled look before her lips twitched into a humourless smile, as close to a smile that the fallen could get. "I do not often take the initiative to make myself discreet, unfortunately." Her voice was a silver tinkle, the words almost chiming. She could very well be singing them. "Though I must thank you for correcting me, stranger." To make such a simple statement...it was obvious that this...woman knew that she was not human. To be honest though, Aralenne could hardly care less on being found out, or rather, had no interest in caring at all whatsoever.

"I do believe my cover has been...blown." Her lips twitched at her use of the slang, but she commented no further on it. Her head tilted to one side, her blonde locks falling gently over her shoulders, her eyes never leaving the person in front of her. "Therefore, I must now ask, who might you be?"

TAGS asher WORDS

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template created by NAGA for use on NIGHTMARE.[/center]

[hound4]

Asher can be charming when he really wants to be. The creature sits down, sipping at the cup of coffee—straight. Black. Nothing other than that… no sugar. Sugar to this day made the gentleman gangster sick. It was something Asher wouldn’t bother to explore any more. Milk and sugar were things she wouldn’t bother trying to stomach at any given time. As your body ages, the ability to break down the lactose in milk dissipates… and she was pretty old, not going to lie. The whole being alive for several hundred years means that she’s built up quite the intolerance.

The gentleman gangster rakes a hand through his hair, studying the creature before him with interest. There’s a crease to the brow, but nothing else really. It’s another long sip of fresh coffee before her head clears any more, grey eyes resting on the woman that sits before her. Only a slight, sly smile plays at her lips. What was she supposed to be doing here, anyway? Fallens running on caffeine… seems legit. Her voice was like bells, and Asher couldn’t help but study… always study. “Yet here you are, watching how they work and how they move. Curious.” There’s a slickness to his speech pattern, one that seems to keep flat line while being utterly dimensional.

Another shift, a broader smirk falling into place as her eyes rest upon the put together creature. “Name’s Asher, and if I’m not mistaken you wouldn’t want the cover in the first place.” Maybe she has a read on people, and maybe it’s a lucky guess. The grey eyed creature finishes the cup of coffee that rests between his hands, and remains staring at the porcelain for another long moment before allowing her gaze to track back to the woman’s face. Maybe today wouldn’t be so boring after all.