Bennett Halverson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glassesonachain) wrote2017-10-08 05:36 pm
glassesonachain) wrote2017-10-08 05:36 pm
The ghosts that we knew (will flicker from view) [LH!verse fic]
It's almost poetic, Nadir thinks. Though it's unimaginably cruel, he is not surprised. He always knew his past would one day come back to haunt him, even in death. Having all he could ever want among the paradise in Heaven's clouds. Despite the reality of the afterlife not lining up with his beliefs in life, Nadir cared little about it the moment that he laid eyes on his wife and son--A son that could walk once again.
But he's been torn from them, for the moment. Out of some twisted obligation. Because even in death, even with the Khanum burning in Hell, Nadir found that he could not escape her influence. It would seem as if Blue Sky and Brimstone work in tandem more often than not.
"And here I thought I was doing you a favor, Daroga. I hear Heaven is dreadfully dull."
"I was content."
"Indeed. Well, I shan't keep you from your contentment very long. I have a task for you, one your performed quite well in life. I expect that you can repeat it. I'm looking for an old friend of ours."
Finding Erik in Hell has made finding him in Russia seem like a child's errand. At least he had somewhere to start, now Nadir has nothing to go on at all. He has been at this for months with nothing to show for it. He's begun to wonder if it would be possible to simply pay off an Angel Escort and return to Heaven without fulfilling the Khanum's request. But he fears for Reza and Rookheeya's safety, even in Heaven. Nadir would never forgive himself if because of his selfishness, they were thrown to the wolves of Hell for no reason other than that he failed to fetch the Khanum's favorite toy.
Under his breath, he curses his friend's name. For being such an elusive creature, for somehow unwittingly putting Nadir in this position again.
Though really, he is curious what has become of Erik since his death. Nadir doesn't want to admit that he misses him.
He knows it's a long shot, this shady dive bar is the last sort of place he'd ever expect to find Erik in but the rumors are too good to pass up. He leans against the back of his chair, observing the various demons as they go about their business here. He has heard talk from many of them in this town that there is a dark, shadowed being. One that even the most hardened, psychotic and ruthless demons avoid if they can. As the stories go, this shadow was never human, never alive in the first place. A chaotic force that some called the purest evil, others claimed it was benevolent and brought justice.
And it had the voice of an angel. Supposedly, it would make an appearance here. One of its favorite haunts, this wretched establishment.
His eyes slip closed and for a moment, he lets his guard down. He drifts into a memory, reliving the past until complete and utter silence falls over the bar. The absence of sound draws him back to attention, eyes darting around the room. Everyone here seems to be fixated on whatever just walked through the door. From his position in the back, he cannot quite see but Nadir can guess, based on the sudden, crackling tension racing through the air.
The silence is broken by echoing footsteps slowly tapping across the floor. High-heeled shoes against wood ticking along like an ominous countdown. The figure responsible is clad black entirely, a shadow indeed. Yet all of Nadir's hopes are dashed--Clearly, this dark creature is a woman. Even in stilettos, her height is barely average. Underneath that flowing, velvet coat is a frame that is obviously rather petite. Yet the obvious power that radiated from her every motion was nothing to scoff at. It isn't often that something renders a bar full of demons momentarily breathless.
She walks up to the bar and drops a few golden coins on the counter. The bartender takes the coin and brings forth a smuggled bottle of living world whisky. He uncorks it for her before sliding it in her direction. Before it reaches her, a demon takes a swipe at it, unable to resist the allure of stealing stolen whisky. A blink later, he's crying out in pain. In an instant, the shadowed woman had pulled a blade and immediately ran it right through his hand. She turns towards him with fire in her eyes and twists the blade through the demons flesh again. He growls and his free hand reaches towards the holster at his hip. But the shadow woman doesn't allow him to draw his gun. She lifts her knife from his hand and instead plunges it deep into his neck. As she withdraws it, a sick, gurgling sound comes from the demon's throat. Blood cascades from his wound as he grasps at it, in shock from the sudden pain.
"Don't touch my whisky," the woman says calmly. He cannot place it but this woman feels familiar somehow. Every motion was imbued with a certain calculated grace. Gentle, yet undoubtedly threatening and capable of violence at the slightest provocation--
But he's been torn from them, for the moment. Out of some twisted obligation. Because even in death, even with the Khanum burning in Hell, Nadir found that he could not escape her influence. It would seem as if Blue Sky and Brimstone work in tandem more often than not.
"And here I thought I was doing you a favor, Daroga. I hear Heaven is dreadfully dull."
"I was content."
"Indeed. Well, I shan't keep you from your contentment very long. I have a task for you, one your performed quite well in life. I expect that you can repeat it. I'm looking for an old friend of ours."
Finding Erik in Hell has made finding him in Russia seem like a child's errand. At least he had somewhere to start, now Nadir has nothing to go on at all. He has been at this for months with nothing to show for it. He's begun to wonder if it would be possible to simply pay off an Angel Escort and return to Heaven without fulfilling the Khanum's request. But he fears for Reza and Rookheeya's safety, even in Heaven. Nadir would never forgive himself if because of his selfishness, they were thrown to the wolves of Hell for no reason other than that he failed to fetch the Khanum's favorite toy.
Under his breath, he curses his friend's name. For being such an elusive creature, for somehow unwittingly putting Nadir in this position again.
Though really, he is curious what has become of Erik since his death. Nadir doesn't want to admit that he misses him.
He knows it's a long shot, this shady dive bar is the last sort of place he'd ever expect to find Erik in but the rumors are too good to pass up. He leans against the back of his chair, observing the various demons as they go about their business here. He has heard talk from many of them in this town that there is a dark, shadowed being. One that even the most hardened, psychotic and ruthless demons avoid if they can. As the stories go, this shadow was never human, never alive in the first place. A chaotic force that some called the purest evil, others claimed it was benevolent and brought justice.
And it had the voice of an angel. Supposedly, it would make an appearance here. One of its favorite haunts, this wretched establishment.
His eyes slip closed and for a moment, he lets his guard down. He drifts into a memory, reliving the past until complete and utter silence falls over the bar. The absence of sound draws him back to attention, eyes darting around the room. Everyone here seems to be fixated on whatever just walked through the door. From his position in the back, he cannot quite see but Nadir can guess, based on the sudden, crackling tension racing through the air.
The silence is broken by echoing footsteps slowly tapping across the floor. High-heeled shoes against wood ticking along like an ominous countdown. The figure responsible is clad black entirely, a shadow indeed. Yet all of Nadir's hopes are dashed--Clearly, this dark creature is a woman. Even in stilettos, her height is barely average. Underneath that flowing, velvet coat is a frame that is obviously rather petite. Yet the obvious power that radiated from her every motion was nothing to scoff at. It isn't often that something renders a bar full of demons momentarily breathless.
She walks up to the bar and drops a few golden coins on the counter. The bartender takes the coin and brings forth a smuggled bottle of living world whisky. He uncorks it for her before sliding it in her direction. Before it reaches her, a demon takes a swipe at it, unable to resist the allure of stealing stolen whisky. A blink later, he's crying out in pain. In an instant, the shadowed woman had pulled a blade and immediately ran it right through his hand. She turns towards him with fire in her eyes and twists the blade through the demons flesh again. He growls and his free hand reaches towards the holster at his hip. But the shadow woman doesn't allow him to draw his gun. She lifts her knife from his hand and instead plunges it deep into his neck. As she withdraws it, a sick, gurgling sound comes from the demon's throat. Blood cascades from his wound as he grasps at it, in shock from the sudden pain.
"Don't touch my whisky," the woman says calmly. He cannot place it but this woman feels familiar somehow. Every motion was imbued with a certain calculated grace. Gentle, yet undoubtedly threatening and capable of violence at the slightest provocation--