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Ohh nice :3
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Geez. That reminds me I need to get onto some of my replies soon too. Especially my 1x1 TwT

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Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyJanuary 30, 2021 10:17 AM


Polly

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This is a RP between Polly and Tenebris Umbra. Please refrain from posting in this thread if you are not one of us, although you are more than free to read along if you want to. Thank you for your assumed cooperation.
Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyJanuary 30, 2021 10:20 AM


Tenebris Umbra

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Tene's Character

Name: Ouray.

'arrow'

Age: Twenty-two.

Gender: Masculine.

Appearance: Ouray is an individual with a stature of 5"9. He's grew up being a rather lanky individual, and while he still remains somewhat skinny, he also has several muscles around him. Ouray appears weak, but he is physically strong indeed. In terms of appearance, the male has dirty blond hair. It's a mixture of browns with blond streaks splattered around, and usually sits rugged and messy upon his head. It remains short, but long enough to brush against his eyebrows or eyes, and is also slightly curly.

His eyes are a deep brown, almost black, and he has a defined jawline. Ouray is handsome indeed, but in a rugged, cute way, as if one were looking at a puppy. His nose has a small bump on the bridge, most likely from taking a fall as a child or breaking it. He has brown eyebrows and a small nick that had scarred on his chin and beneath his right eye. He also has several piercings on his ears.

Ouray has fair skin, but considering he spends most days outdoors, he has developed a more tan complex due to the sun. He has a welcoming aura radiating around him that is inviting and warm, but that aura can also warn others not to approach him. He walks with a prep in his step, as if he looks forwards to whatever destination he is heading towards. The male, given long legs, is also fast and resembles a buck. The deer, although peaceful, will attack when provoked or deemed in danger.

Given his witch abilities, Ouray has a small marking upon his wrist that takes the shape of a flower, a strong giveaway of his supernatural abilities.

Personality: Ouray, above all, is loyal and peaceful. He takes the calmer approach to situations and is a gentle thing. However, he also knows when to be strict. While he may be clumsy at times, he is surprisingly mature, even if he often radiates the opposite. Well, sometimes he does. Even an individual such as himself has a playful side, and unlike others, Ouray doesn't hide it.

He is very committed to his duties as a witch, often found foraging in the forest or trying to improve. He is also selfless. Never will you see him turn another in. He could be battered and bruised by an enemy, and even then he would stay silent.

Ouray is reserved when it comes to himself, but once he trusts another, he can become rather playful and talkative and doesn't hold back with comments. He is warm and welcoming, and tends to emit that aura. Sometimes, he emits another, warning others to leave him alone. It truly depends on the male's mood for the day.

He is one who preaches for peace and order. Anybody who begins chaos is automatically deemed unworthy in his opinion and will not gain his respect. Even if it isn't his place, he will speak out about a wrongdoing and isn't one to be easily persuaded to do something against the rules. Ouray often voices his opinions if he believes in something strongly, though he prefers to sit off to the sidelines. He can be extroverted at times and make small talk with others, but also likes spending time alone.

Ability:

- Can turn into a deer, as it resembles nature; wild and free

- Can create powerful potions, but sir is bad at it

- Can cast spells, but he is bad and it turns out wrong

- He is good at foraging and healing (and identifying herbs)

- kinda a botanist?

Backstory: (vague, but whatever) Ouray used to live within the heart of Devolra, a Kingdom powerful and large. It was peaceful there. A lovely community where he felt accepted, that is, until the Kingdom declared war. The Kingdom, knowing that with the supernatural beings on their side they could overthrow everything, tried to recruit them. However, many refused, including Ouray. As a result? All supernatural beings are being hunted and being taken as captives as punishment. Ouray was forced to abandon his home and take what little he could carry and leave. He found refuge to the nort in a forest, hidden deep behind foliage and twisted rivers. There, Ouray built a hut. There, Ouray lives.


Edited at January 30, 2021 04:08 PM by Tenebris Umbra
Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyJanuary 30, 2021 10:21 AM


Polly

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Posts: 9246
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Polly's Character

Name:
Chex
Age:
Satan knows. He looks around 20.
Gender:
Male
Species:
dEmOn
Appearance:
Chex is, for lack of a better term, devilishly handsome. He is a man of a tan complexion with clearly defined muscle. He has arms and legs that are rather proportionate to his body size, although his legs are a little on the longer side. His figure, though, is not lanky nor gangly. There is clear muscle across all of his limbs, collarbones showing through skin and a certain tauntness to his figure that shows a prowling gait, accompanied by a predatory manner in which he moves. Whether it be a subtle movement of his, justifiably, large hands, or a slight tilt of his head, something about the male just screams danger.

The man is one of a tall, powerful build, standing at 6’5”, and having a body to match. His limbs are filled out with muscle, the hardened tissue being plain to see on his back and abdomen when he is without a shirt. He has long arms and legs, although they are not gangly--they rather suit him, considering his height. He has proportionate hands, large enough to fully encompass a ‘normal’ heighted persons’ hands easily. He has this certain care-free way of moving and talking, as if he doesn’t have a single care, or anything to worry about. And, in truth, he’s a demon. He doesn’t have to worry about anything.

The demon, powerful and imposing figure aside, is of a handsome appearance. He has a defined jaw, accompanied by equally defined cheekbones and his tanned skin. He has a head of short, but a bit scruffy, brown hair, although it is rather interesting rather than a plain brown. It has shades and streaks of darker brown, perhaps something closer to black, and other shades of more auburn-gold. It falls around his ears, with a slight fringe across his forehead, but it tends to stick up at odd angles, as if he were but a child.

The parts of him that aren't quite human, that are just slightly left of being normal, are his teeth and eyes. His teeth are slightly pointed, just a little more than the average person, not noticeable if you aren't looking for the difference, but his eyes... his eyes are nothing short of demonic. They are entirely onyx--the pupils, the irises, the whites, all of it. Completely ebony, with a tinting of something between brown and red, like half-dried blood of the sinners.
Personality:
Chex is a creature of many traits, although a few stand out more than others. His main trait is an aggressive nature, anger ingrained into every cell in his body, fury and spite being more of him than his own DNA. He can switch from calm to aggressive in a matter of moments--one wrong movement or word can set off his temper. It's to be expected as a demon, though. They all seem to have short tempers, and being on the wrong side of a demon isn't what anyone wants. A demonic entity, especially a strong one such as himself.

In the nature of aggression, he has a certain few animalistic traits. He tilts his head and moves in an animalistic fashion, often snarling or growling to show agitation rather than vocalising it. But then, in the underworld, snarls and screeches is how to get your point across more than mere words.

Chex is, perhaps, a bit arrogant or cocky. He is a creature of innate chaos, a creature of death and desctruction, borne of the very anarchy that makes up day-to-day life. He knows that he is powerful, knows that he could crush the skull of a human in his palm if he wanted, that he could rally armies of demons to his every beck and call. The only things that stop him are those above him, even if they are weaker than him--he enjoys being in the chaos too much to lead it. But, if something or someone gave him a reason? Chex could raise the underworld at his mere command.

If he has a reason to, if someone manages to find a spot of warmth in his heart, the creature may very well become one of the most loyal beings to exist. For someone that matters to him, he may very well kill, maim and die for them--sure, he may be increasingly overprotective, would eliminate a threat if he saw it, but his loyalty is unwavering once it is earned. Perhaps that's what sets him apart from other demons. They backstab and hurt, live to simply cause pain. Chex wants the anarchy, not the pain that follows.
Abilities:
uh
- Demon Shapeshifting?
- Can bend some things to his will, like shadows and light and plants and stuff
- The classic super speed, super strength, y e a h
- Heightened senses? yes
Backstory:

Edited at January 30, 2021 09:04 PM by Polly
Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyJanuary 30, 2021 09:23 PM


Tenebris Umbra

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[ Ouray ]

"A song of Enchantment I sang me there,
In a green-green wood, by water fair.."

It was a silly tune. An old one at that, and yet, Ouray couldn't help but hum the tune and allow the words to seep off his tongue. Now, Ouray wasn't a good singer, not at all, but the words strung together so well, it made even a male such as himself go from sounding like a crow to a nightingale.

He hummed the melody, drummed the beat onto his thigh as he knelt before a tree so great, it put all others to shame. It was there where Ouray foraged, picking mushrooms off of an elderly silver birch. It wasn't any normal mushroom. No, it was a chaga mushroom, a black, rotting looking mound of mushroom that grew, used for inflammation and immunity. In his small woven basket is where he placed it, right next to the cordycep, yet another mushroom used to speed up recovery and provide energy. Ouray was bad with many things, but not with plants. He was able to tell which were deadliest that even a trace of them could kill a fellow, to ones that could fight against infection and sickness.

Raising his arm, he wiped his brow free of sweat that had been created due to the blazing sun upon his back and wiped it on a light black hood he wore. It wasn't mandatory, the hood. In fact, if it were up to Ouray, he would have tore it up a long while ago, but it camouflaged him, and he needed to remain hidden. The guards from the Kingdom of Devolra - his previous kingdom - were getting closer and closer, trying to capture any being with even a minuscule amount of supernatural abilities in their blood. Ouray was one of those beings, so really, could you guess why he was so weary?

Brushing his hands free of dirt, the male, both tawny yet muscular, hoisted himself up onto his legs before pausing to simply take in the sounds of the forest. In ways, Ouray was a nemophilist - an individual that loved the forest for it's beauty and solitude. How he loved it indeed. It was easy to see his love, too. It was in the way he listened for the musical psithurism of the feathered foliage, in the way he observed everything with adoration, in the way he walked, as if he were one with the way the wind blew the trees. The verdant forest, the woods, it was so vivid in colour. Ouray loved every part of it. The imperfection of it, the dents, the dirt, and all the creatures that resided in it.

"Just as the words came up to me
I sang it under the wild wood tree."

Whistling, Ouray made his way back to his hut. It was a logged, miniature cabin hidden behind vines and rocks that he had built himself. It was a single-floored structure with merely two rooms within it. Tiny, yet cozy. The main room held the kitchen, which one would see upon entering, and had a small table in the middle of it. A little farther down lay a small study where Ouray stored his potions and work, most upon a large bookshelf that looked intimidating with the way it was filled up. There were seats there as well, mostly with paper stacked upon it. Yes, Ouray was messy, but he was a witch. An inexperienced one at that.

He had the power, he just couldn't wield it.

The hut then broke out into a hall no more than three meters long. It was there where the second room rested, which was where Ouray slumbered when he wasn't asleep beneath the stars and safety of the forest; he spent almost every hour outside. The thought of being within something with walls around him made him uneasy, yet that was where he currently stood, right in the middle of his current shelter.

Propping the basket upon the small wooden table in his kitchen, Ouray released a deepened sigh as his arms rested on his hips. The hut was messy, more like a hoarder's nest, really. So, without further ado, he advanced forwards, intent on cleaning up. Reaching for a broom, the male was hoping to first sweep the ground. However, luck never seemed to be on his side, for the moment his fingers touched the broom, a slumbering squirrel that somehow entered his dwelling sprung forwards.

Ouray released a yelp as he stumbled back from fright, knocking into his bookshelf before wobbling back and tripping over one of the chairs. "I-" He began, watching the squirrel bound around like a crazed individual before he hopped up, staring at it before creeping to the entrance and nudging the door open with his foot. "This way," he sounded, and watched as the squirrel stopped, looked at him, and made a break for it. Ouray loved animals, until they popped up at him and scared him half to death. "Now, where was I?" He muttered to himself. "Broom," he continued, before ridiculing himself: "Stop talking to yourself, idiot."

Shaking his head, he returned to the broom before pausing, noting the books, paper, and upturned chair on the ground. Groaning, he knelt, prepared to clean up the mess he had made until his hands swept the cover of foreign book. It was a thick one, heavy and large, with a bounded red leather cover. It had odd decals on it in a language even he couldn't understand, and Ouray knew many. Out of sheer curiosity, he flipped it open, for it was a book he had obtained a long time ago, yet had seemed to have forgotten about.

Brushing away the dust from the pages, he blew on it, suddenly coughing as dust clouded his face. Waving his hand before his mouth, he hacked away like a cat with a hairball before finally inhaling sharply and squinting at the pages. This language he understood, but only three words.

"Chex, classified demon."

Staring at it, Ouray leaned in before snapping the book shut. He'd study it later on, for now, he'd-

Head snapping up, his eyes narrowed. The birds had stopped singing, meaning only one thing: there was a disturbance in the forest. Automatically, Ouray knew.

Intruders.

Jumping up onto his feet, he froze. Intruders this deep in the forest? He bet that he already knew the perpetrators. They would be guards from Delvora, out to capture him, along with others like him. Ouray would fight if he could, but he was useless, with his powers. That, however, didn't mean that he would give up. Grabbing a dagger from his boot, he held it in his hands, a random potion in his other. He fled his home once, he refused to do so again. Maybe this time, if he really put his mind to it, his powers would emerge.

Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyJanuary 31, 2021 01:07 AM


Polly

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| Chex |

To say that Chex hadn’t been expecting to have his name muttered from the lips of a mortal was an understatement. It had been a long time since he had been summoned, that the book had been opened, and his own name slurred forward. Wizards, warlocks and witches of old, if they ever had a reason to summon a demonic entity, had always avoided his own name. Stories about him and the havoc he had brought upon those that dared to summon him told any that wished to bring a demon into the mortal world to avoid him.

And so, it was only natural that a wicked grin befell his face when he stepped into the mortal realm in a flurry of what could only be compared to embers that did not burn, taking in his surroundings. The hut was small, smaller than anything he had seen in a while. It was messy, too. Books and papers were strewn everywhere, a small study trapped in the corner of the room. A tiny place indeed, Chex had to duck his head slightly so that he did not bump the top of his head into the roof of the hut.

After taking a single step towards the study, his gaze caught onto the book. The book, the one that held his name, gave someone the power to summon him. He tilted his head, studying it’s closed, leathery exterior, before he switched his attention to the only other entity in the room--a man. A young man, early twenties if Chex had to make a guess. Dirty blond hair, fairly scruffy, and brown eyes. The man was holding a dagger in one hand, a potion resting in his other palm, looking towards the door.

If he focused, he could see an odd little marking on the man's wrist, but he didn’t pay it much attention when far-off footsteps grabbed his attention. Many people marching in attempted unison, there were but small differences in how their feet hit the ground that told him of their numbers. Five or six of them, if he made a rough guess, with clanking armor and hushed breaths. What had the little magic-user done to have armored men coming after him?

Chex stepped back, furrowing his brows. The witch, likely a nature witch if he judged by the plants around and their location, was powerful. He could sense his power, so why the dagger? Why the potion? Unless, of course, the youngling had not received formal training as the witches of old had, and didn’t have a hold on his powers. It would explain a lot, actually--if he hadn’t received formal training, it would give reason as to why he was messing with the book, and managed to summon a demon.

Nature witches were beings of peace, one with the forest and its animals, vessels of Mother Nature and protector of her children. The near opposite of demons, if you will. So the fact that armored men were coming for a nature witch? They were hunting him for the wrong reasons, or they were going to take the wrong person. The accidental summoning seemed to be at the perfect time.

He doubted the nature witch would be able to take on the men.

Chex crouched closer to the ground, feeling his muscles snap and reconnect, feeling his bones bend and morph into a form fit for a fight. Nothing too grotesque, nothing too war-like. His legs changed, melding parts of his calves with his teeth, moving his heel partially up his calf, leaving his weight on the balls of his feet. His fingers extended, morphing to allow the keratin of his fingernails to extend and become sharp claws. His face became something of a nightmare, jaw lengthening into something like a muzzle, housing teeth that shifted to be something closer to a bear's fangs.

There, he waited. There, crouched in the darkness, he waited for his moment. He felt the low rumble in his throat before the sound of his own growl reached his ears, onyx eyes trained on the door.

One.

Steps approached the hut.

Two.

A palm touched the door, started pushing it open.

Three.

Chex shot past the nature witch, being careful not to jostle him, and smashed into the first person clad in armor that he saw. There was a shout somewhere to his right, a blade plunging towards him. He deflected the blow with a swipe of his hand, turning towards the guard with a snarl. The first person he had intercepted remained trapped in his left hand, as he had grabbed him by the head and simply held him there.

The one with the blade had frozen with something like shock, and Chex laughed as he plunged his self-made talons through the man's chest, easily cracking through the armor that the man wore. He hit the forest floor with a thud, his attention instantly befalling the remaining four. One man had his armor caved in on his chest, rendering him as dead as the others, whilst another tripped over his own feet and was stepped on to death. Chex, accidentally, snapped the spine of the man in his hand by waving him around vigorously (in all honesty, humans felt as if they had gotten weaker. Who’s spine just snaps because they got moved around a bit?), and the remaining two were practically begging for their lives.

It was Chex, so, of course, their prayers were not answered. He crushed one of their skulls with his hands, grinning a wolfish grin at the remaining guard, whose fear was so strong that it reeked. He enjoyed tearing out the pitiful things throat with his hands, not bothering to lick the blood off of his fingers. Human blood was disgusting anyway, and he knew from experience.

Completely ignoring the bodies now strewn around him, Chex gave something like a groan as his body returned to it’s mostly-human figure, lifting his head to peer at the nature witch. He frowned, tilting his head.

“You,” he started, opening and closing his mouth for a few moments, as if figuring out how to properly work it again. “Summoned me?” It was like a question, even though he already knew the answer. “Nature witches do not summon demons,” he rolled his shoulders, muttering something to himself before continuing. “You didn’t receive formal training from an older nature witch, did you? They would have told you not to touch that book, or summon any demons.”

Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyJanuary 31, 2021 03:34 PM


Tenebris Umbra

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[ Ouray ]

It was preposterous! Was the Kingdom that desperate to track him down? Did they have nothing better to do than persue a mere, petty grudge? The Kingdom was dealing with one war, and now, they were dealing with another. For what? To force supernaturals like himself to assist them to victory? To slay lives for no true meaning? No, Ouray was a witch, one who preached peace. That was a nature witch's motive. They were calm beings unless provoked, and right at this very instance, Ouray was not calm.

Dark purple liquid sloshed around in the bottle he held in his hand. Even from a distance, he could hear it fizzing and spluttering, as if it were alive. Which, knowing Ouray's luck, it probably was. He had a certain knack for messing up when it came to his gift. He never did learn like the others had. How could he? His own mother, a witch herself, died far too long ago to teach him more useful things. Sure, she taught him how to grow a mere plant and about herbs, but the true powerful spells? Nothing, and his father? Out of the picture. Ouray never met him. He was told that he walked out. The reason? Unknown, but Ouray had a few guesses as to why he left. Perhaps he was unprepared for a child, or maybe he wished not to associate with witches. Who knew.

A small creak in the floorboards brought him back to the present.

Guards. Trying to capture him. Right.

His fingers began to ache from how hard he was gripping his dagger, and even then, Ouray stood his ground. He would fight this time instead of flee like a coward. This was his home, and they were the trespassers this time. This was his land. Slowly, he inched forwards before spinning and placing his back against a wall to prevent himself from being seen through one of the small windows within his dwelling.

Quieting his breath, his eyes remained fixated on the door, waiting. It was only when the door handle turned did he inhale sharply and took a step forwards, but something seemed to beat him to it. Before Ouray could comprehend what had happened, the guards were all slaughtered, courtesy of a dark creature with long claws and a misshapen face. "W-wendigo?" He guessed. What was that thing? That ugly, hideous creature that laughed as it was killing the guards? Who snapped a man's spine? Who crushed a man's skull? Who.. Who.. Who suddenly, just now, morphed into a man?

Ouray stood there like a corpse, his eyes widened and hands shaking. He made no movement, no sound. He hardly even breathed. This creature.. This man now in front of him looked like any normal individual, or so Ouray first thought. The man was tall. So very tall. What was he, six and a half feet? Maybe more? And he appeared large in terms of muscle and bulk, and his aura. Oh, Ouray did not like what darkness he radiated. Even his hair wasn't normal. It was brown, but different shades of it and, ye gad! His teeth! And-

The eyes! They were pure black, like staring into two black holes. They were colourless. Emotionless. Demonic.

Ouray stood there, like a child, eyes glancing from the guards, back to the man, unsure of what to do.. And he spoke! The man suddenly spoke! Oh, there was so much blood. How could humans produce so much? And.. He was still speaking? Turning to the man (Heavens even knew if that was what he was), he listened to the words spoken by him.

Demon? He was a demon?

Something snapped in Ouray as realization dawned on him, and he risked a glance at the open book upon the ground. Unsure of how to comprehend this newly found information, the male simply turned back to this demon, even as he further spoke. Something about receiving formal training? Ouray wasn't too sure. He couldn't even understand the words at the moment. All he knew was that he needed to run. To escape.

Staring at the figure before him, he glanced at the potion in his hand and back at him before raising his hand and whipping it at him. The potion - what it was truly meant to do - was paralyze the individual for several hours, but as it broke against the demon's chest, Ouray's face went white as it did nothing of the sorts. No, it simply formed a cloud of purple smoke.

Useless.

Staring at the demon, Ouray turned his head to the open door. "Pleasure to meet you," he managed before he suddenly sprang for it, pushing past the man and sprinting outdoors. He wasn't about to die today. No sir. He knew demons all had their price. They do a favour for you, and then you must do something for them. Was that even how it worked? Either way, Ouray wasn't about to find out, so on he ran, pushing past bushes and tripping over tree roots in the process.

He should have known something bad was going to happen. It always did to him.

Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyFebruary 1, 2021 08:43 PM


Polly

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| Chex |

The witch’s reaction was odd, although expected. It solidified his thoughts that he had not received proper training--a trained witch would know how to send him back to the other dimension, or wouldn’t have summoned him in the first place. Though, truth be told, he had expected a little bit of common decency for the underworlds sake. He expected to be spoken to, to have a conversation. Had humans lost all of their manners? Had witches lost all of their manners? He remembered being summoned by some witches in the past that he quite enjoyed the company of (before they asked for a favor and he had to formally set up a deal, which was more hassle than it was worth most of the time).

Chex opened his mouth to ask a question, something accusatory--probably to demand why the witch wasn’t listening to him, when the potion that the witch had had broke against his chest. Purely on instinct, he sucked in a breath, gnarl guttural when it left his throat after the burning sensation the smoke left in his lungs. He lifted a hand to brush the smoke aside, snarl growing louder when he noticed the witch was gone. Where the-- his head snapped to the side, gaze locking onto the retreating figure of the man, and his instincts flared forward. A chase. Chases were fun.

His body tensed up for only a moment, only a heartbeat, before taking off after the witch. Why? Well, instincts demanded it of course. It was the intent of the instincts that struck him as odd. Normally, a chase and a hunt were the same thing. He chased someone or something with the intention to kill or otherwise maim the target, to immobilize for a slow, painful death, or to kill it to feast. But with the witch? The intent that the instincts pushed forward was… was to protect. Protect and take back home and make sure safe. It couldn’t have been that he had been summoned during the raid of the guards, but even then, something had pushed him to kill them instead of observing.

The witch was odd, causing odd things.

Rather than simply run up behind the man, Chex, having a flair for the dramatics, ran past the fleeing man, doing his very best to remain out of sight by doing a small loop. He stopped a short distance ahead of the witch, waiting before stepping out into the humans path, letting the shorter man run into him, only to bare his teeth and latch his hand onto the front of the man's clothing. Not enough to hurt or to restrict breathing, but enough to immobilize.

“Where in the devil’s name do you think you’re going? If I had wanted to hurt you,” he growled, ducking his head to be closer to the man. “I would have done that already. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be able to get away from me, do you understand, witch?” Chex rolled his shoulders, taking a moment to study the features of the witch. Some kind of recognition flickered in the back of his head. The shape of his eyes, the color of his hair, the shape of his face--it reminded him of someone, but who? Who did he know that was young enough to have a son?

“I would ask if you’re Tanith’s boy,” he muttered, furrowing his brows. It had to be Tanith. But… “But Tanith had a little girl, not a son.” Perhaps a nephew of Tanith? A cousin? Pah, it didn’t matter.

“Do the witches not tell stories of the chaos demons cause anymore?” Chex questioned, although it was mostly rhetorical. “They used to tell even the most experienced magic-users to be careful when summoning creatures from the underworld--they warned them never to summon me. Something about,” he paused, grin nothing but wicked and cruel, “how dangerous Chex is. No idea where they got that from.”

He lifted his gaze off of the witch for only a moment, glancing around, before using one hand to grab his shoulder and spin him, moving his hand from the front of his shirt to the back of his neck. “You’re lucky I like nature witches, human,” he snarled, using his palm against the witch’s neck to give a slight push to walk forward, back towards the man's little hut.

Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyFebruary 1, 2021 10:36 PM


Tenebris Umbra

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[ Ouray ]

"Ready or not, here I come!"

For a moment, Ouray was taken back to when he was a mere child, running through an open meadow whilst his grandmother picked flowers on the sidelines. It was a sunny day, only a few white, transparent clouds floated along the sky, providing little shade from the heat of the sun. Behind him, his mother ran, chasing him as they pursued a game of hide and seek. Well, it started it that way, and somehow transitioned into tag. Ouray remembered running until his chest felt like it would burst.. Like he could take off into the sky at any moment and soar through the trees. Well, he couldn't, but his grandmother could. So could his mother. Him? A deer was the best he could do. While he couldn't fly, he could surely run. He could remember it well. It was one of his core memories.

But that was a long time ago. Both were dead, Ouray was not a child anymore, and he wasn't being chased for fun.

Feet pounding against the ground, they soon grew lighter, stealthier, quicker. Ouray had deer-like qualities, and that meant that he had mastered how to move silently, even when running to whatever destination he was headed in. It wasn't new. It seemed to be a gift many nature witches had obtained. They had a way with the forest, with plants, with the world. They knew how to move along bushes without disrupting so much as the breeze around them. Their presence was difficult to trace. Well, that was the case with most witches. Ouray, on the other hand, was clumsy, his point proven when he stubbed his toe and tripped over a log, landing face-first in dirt before picking himself up again.

He could move fast and remain quiet, but he never said he was graceful doing it.

Using a bit of his speed (not all of it. He needed to conserve energy), he hopped over a boulder, nearly toppling over, almost swearing that he saw something run by him, but there was nothing there. And so, Ouray continued, right until he ran smack dab into the demon himself. How did he catch up? Releasing a yelp, he felt himself grow trapped. He couldn't even reach his blasted dagger and-

Dear god, his teeth.

Flailing slightly, Ouray raised his arm and wrapped his hands over the demon's single arm, attempting to remove its grip on him. How strong was this guy? Well, he was a demon, so it seemed that it made sense. "Kindly release me," he practically hissed, eyes boring into the demon's own before looking away. He didn't like the blackness of them. Sure, some may see a whole galaxy in them, but Ouray? He saw death and a void.

Slapping the man's arm, he tried to pry himself free from his grip before releasing a deep grumble, contemplating whether or not he should bite his arm. In the end, it was decided that it would be a fairly bad idea. "I was going for a nice, leisurely stroll," he responded as a snide remark to the demon's own wording. Where did he think he was going? Pah! "Where do you think? I was running for my life!"

He had read little about demons. His grandmother and mother never let him near it nor spoke of it often. "It's dangerous magic," they'd say. "Black magic. Powerful stuff. Always has a price." And that would be the end of the conversation. Off they'd shoo him to go play with some plants or other children while the grown up stuff was left to the adults.

As of now, Ouray was preoccupied to try and think of anything other than how to escape the demon. He was scared, petrified, even, but he wouldn't let it show. He wouldn't give the man the satisfaction. So, with a frown, Ouray glared at the demon, despite his nerves twisting themselves up in a knot. That, however, all vanished the moment that word was spoken. That one mass of letters combined.

Tanith.

Remaining silent, Ouray's frown twitched, as if he were deep in thought. How did this demon know of his grandmother? Unless it was a trick. Demons did that. They pried into your mind and used ways to manipulate you, but, the more the demon spoke, the less Ouray believed it to be a trick. "You know of Tanith?" His voice quieted, and he had stopped struggling for a moment. The witch pondered a moment, about to keep his words to himself, but as he looked at the demon, something just told him that he could speak, and that his words wouldn't be used against him. "Tanith had Airlia, and Airlia had me," was all he spoke, clarifying the demon's confusion. Gods know why.

Staring at the demon as he asked more questions, Ouray proceeded with caution, answering them all. He didn't really have a choice in the manner regardless. "The witches don't tell anything anymore, and if they did, I wouldn't know where to find them.." Trailing off as the demon grinned, Ouray couldn't help but suppress a shudder. Must he always flash his teeth?

"Chex? That is your name?" So that was what he read from the book. How marvelous. Could he have summoned Chex if he read in his head, he wondered. Not offering a name in return, (how could he, he was suddenly spun around), Ouray released a huff when he was suddenly being guided like a mere pet. "I know how to walk," he said, swatting at Chex's arms before inching away. No, he didn't like his aura indeed.

Ouray had questions, but he didn't know how to ask Chex or if he even could. He did just say he liked nature witches, but what if he liked them to eat? Maybe it was another trick? Regardless, Ouray submitted and began to walk. "What's your purpose here?" He finally asked after moments of long silence, his tone rather, to be frank, pissed off. "How do I send you back? Do I need to give you a favour in return? I shouldn't, right? I mean, I never asked for your help or told you what to do. You killed those-" Gah! The guards! All slaughtered and dead in his hut! The blood! How could he forget?! He needed to clean it up right away. If anybody else came across it-

Picking up his pace, Ouray began to speed walk back to his hut. He'd figure it out there. He'd figure it all out.

Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyFebruary 2, 2021 09:26 AM


Polly

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| Chex |

The males eyes glittered with something like mischief, tilting his head to the side to study the reaction of the witch. The attempts to weaken his grip were feeble; courageous, sure, but still feeble. It was almost entertaining, watching the human struggle against his hold, to smell the fear radiating from the young man. What, did he think that, after all that, Chex was going to kill him? That would just be a waste of energy and time when he could have just killed him back at the hut.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he stated, blinking down at the young man. “If I had wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have killed the guards, I would have killed you where you stood and then left. There’s no point ‘running for your life’ when your life was never under threat,” his tone took on a note as if it were the most obvious thing, as if he weren’t a demon that just morphed into some kind of monster and slaughtered six armored men as if they were nothing.

Chex blinked slowly at the witch’s words, as if struggling to take them in. “You’re Airlia’s son?” His voice dropped, although not in a threatening way, at least, none of the aggression in the tone was aimed at the witch. “I thought Airlia was too young to have had a child…” He paused, as if pondering the idea, before shaking his head. “I suppose time got away from me in the other realm,” is that what made him want to protect the little witchling? The fact that his stature, his face, his hair, his eyes--it had reminded him of Tanith? Had he subconsciously recognized him as a relative of his old, old friend before he, himself, had realized the connection?

“Yes, I know Tanith, and I know Airlia. I met your mother when she was just a little girl, and when your grandmother was much younger than she would be now. They helped me out of a predicament.” Airlia’s son. Good god, Airlia had a son? Last he had seen the girl-- the woman now, she had just been a child. It was hard to imagine her with a man, hard to imagine that she had raised a child. “How are they? Tanith and Airlia? Where might I find them?” Would they even recognize him after such a long time? Would he have to reintroduce himself?

Glancing down, Chex noted the… uncomfortable aura that the male produced, especially when he showed his teeth. They weren’t that abnormal, as far as he was aware, but he made an effort to flatten the tips out, style them in the way a mortal's teeth were. It was mildly uncomfortable, having his teeth flat and pressed against one another. He had to rotate his jaw for a moment to move them into a comfortable position--he had gotten too used to having sharp teeth slotting easily together.

“Yes,” he offered a nod, loosening his grip on the man. “I am Chex.” His tone seemed distracted, focusing on an earlier sentence.The witches don't tell anything anymore, and if they did, I wouldn't know where to find them..’ Where were the other witches? Did Tanith and Airlia not tell him things? Did they not tell him stories? Were they out there, looking for him? Had he run away? No, no. There was not a bitterness in his tone aimed towards them. Had fate split them apart? Did he need to find them?

“How lovely that you know how to use your legs,” he crooned, completely releasing his hold, tilting his head from side to side like an animal, as if listening closely to what was around them. “Don’t run off again, though. If they sent one group of guards to your hut, there might be more in the area. Being untrained--” untrained. Did Airlia not train her son? Did she not teach him how to defend himself? “--you won’t be able to fight off a squad of them.”

“My purpose was to investigate why my name had been said whilst that book had been open, and I found out. An inexperienced witch had gone through things he didn’t understand, and summoned something by accident.” He paused, a deep rumble coming from his chest alongside his next words. “It’s lucky that you summoned me instead of some of the other nasties in the other realm. Many of them would have killed you and the guards simply for the sake of it.”

Chex could almost laugh at the other questions spoken by the witch, but stopped the noise in his throat. “You don’t need to do anything for me, I killed the guards of my own accord.” He paused, frowning and furrowing his brows. “I’ll be taking those bodies and the blood with me, if you don’t mind. The other realm is filled with hungry underlings--they actually enjoy the taste of human flesh somehow. I find it repulsive.” He scrunched up his face at the mere thought as if he had dipped a sour lemon in spoiled milk and then bitten into it.

Witch x Demon | Tene x PollyFebruary 2, 2021 12:32 PM


Tenebris Umbra

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[ Ouray ]

This Chex, it seemed, wasn't as bad as Ouray initially thought. Yes, he was a demon, and yes, he could probably die if he said the wrong thing, but he seemed almost.. Peaceful? No, that wasn't the word.. Normal? From ancient texts, Ouray had seen drawings of demons. Some had horns and disformed figures. Why, they were hideous, and their personalities matched. They were tricksters, murderers, con-artists. Chex, however, didn't entirely match the criteria expected. Not in personality anyways. That didn't mean Ouray would automatically trust him. No, his guard would remain up and-

Gah, what a bad choice of word, considering a whole group of them had just been slaughtered.

Padding ahead, Ouray risked a glance from the corner of his eye. Peering at Chex for a moment, his eyes shot forwards at the mention of his grandmother. Of his mother. "That's what I said," he spoke, responding to Chex's sentence about being Airlia's son. Why was he so shocked? So.. Surprised? He knew them, that much Ouray could figure, only he underestimated just how well. "You met them?" It was clear in the demon's words that he had, but still, Ouray asked. Why had they never mentioned knowing a demon? They had told him that black magic was bad, that.. But they did smile after speaking those words. His mother and grandmother exchanged a grin, as if they knew something. As if they had an inside joke.

It seems that they did.

"My mother had me twenty-two years ago." Ouray spoke short sentences, hoping to clear something up with the demon. Something about Chex knowing his family made him trust him a small amount. This couldn't be a trick. It wasn't possible, was it? "My mother and grandmother helped you?" For a moment, Ouray felt a pang of annoyance within him. There was so much they didn't teach him. Didn't tell him..

The witch continued walking, until his shoulders tensed and his posture grew rigid. How are they? Had the demon truly just asked him that? "You really have been gone for a long time," Ouray said, his tone rather angry, but not at Chex. No, he was angry at the Kingdom. Completely furious at them. Staring straight ahead, his frown increased. "They're dead." Ouray couldn't even get their bodies.. Couldn't even bury them in the forest. The Kingdom took them, probably discarded them like garbage.

Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but that was as far as they would go.

"They've been dead for a while." How long had this war even gone on? Shaking his head, he continued, hoping to drop the conversation, but didn't Chex deserve to know how they died? If it was true, and if he actually befriended them, shouldn't he know? Yes, he supposed he did. "You know of the Kingdom of Delvora? There's a war now, and us supernaturals are in the middle of it." Filling Chex in, Ouray's own tone shifted. "Delvora wished for us to fight, and I, well, my mother and grandmother, refused to. We weren't the only ones with that answer, so one night, out of pettiness, the Kingdom invaded all the homes of supernaturals, capturing them, and those that struggled would be slaughtered like animals. We were powerful, but the kingdom was ready."

This war had been going on for years. How long exactly? Six years? Seven? He wasn't sure, but Ouray remembered being ushered out of the hut with his mother while his grandmother held the guards back.

She was the first to die.

His mother and him ran then, headed towards the forest with cloaks covering his head.

He was the only one that made it.

Just as they reached the edge of the woods, just as his mother was in the middle of shifting into a deer like him, she was shot with an arrow. Ouray watched the life slip away from her eyes, her last words telling him to run. So he did. He left. He knew healing, but not enough to help her. He couldn't help any of them.

Eyes glossing over, Ouray blinked away the memory and silenced himself. He knew some captured individuals agreed to help the Kingdom, afraid to be killed. Some did it just for fun. Those were the ones to avoid. Now, the Kingdom was at war with the supernaturals, and with its surrounding neighbors.

"I have to relocate," was all Ouray spoke after several minutes. The Kingdom now knew where he was. He'd have to go deeper into the forest. His mood remained quiet until it shifted into something full of disgust. "Of course they eat humans." Shuddering, he grew slightly at ease when Chex mentioned that he didn't like it. "Well, that's reassuring.. Slightly." Glanced at the demon, he narrowed his eyes. "What kind even are you? Demon, I mean." He seemed almost nice. Then again, Ouray didn't forget how he massacred the guards.

Reaching the hut, he eyed the dead bodies, staring at them. He should feel bad. It was lives that were taken, but Ouray's only thought was that he hoped the blood wouldn't stain.


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