Snippet #2238351

Dust hung in the air, lingering in an atmosphere thick enough to drown in. Rory inhaled his spite, biting down on the corner of his mouth in attempt to focus on building up his fragile mental wall. He could feel the curved fingernails of time and destruction; the self-interested of the demon inside him, chipping away in attempt to gain hold of the reigns. The man in front of him was perplexing, and complexity wasn't a trait often admired by him, not when it displaced itself in a way that could become hostile. Was the man planning on pulling the rug away from underneath his feet, to undermine him? His gaze glanced to Chriselle for a a split second, returning to the man who had claimed to be on his, their, side.

Or, was Chriselle on his side instead, making this out to be a constructed charade? "...You...want to help us? Why?" Rory pressed a hand to his forehead, pain splitting inside his mind, turning him numb. He had no reason to trust either of them, both too variegated, and conflicting arguments bubbled inside of him. Chriselle had claimed to be his friend, and now this man was making the same statement? He had helped her, but had done nothing for this man. What was his reason? The boy's glare faltered, and his consciousnesses slipped away in a smoke that smelt of paranoia and dangerous doubt.

Without flames came the smell of burning coals, smoke from the soul of a creature neither human nor God. Rory's eyes opened, eyebrows relaxed, smile pleasantly arrogant with straight posture. Though it was Rory Chamberlain's body, it was not the owner that was in control. Another piloted in his place, a voice who had lived too long and simultaneously not long enough. "I too am shrouded with a flicker of ambiguity, sir." His voice was course, deep and held no stutter, only confidence and eloquence. Eyelashes obscured him for a moment, stepping forward in smooth, thought out movements opposed to the behavior nature to his host; impulse, running on deceitful emotion and malice.

Neberius turned his attention to the girl that Rory was so curious of, lips curling in false fondness. "We all have our reasons, and they will reveal themselves to us at a better time. For now, let us accept his offer, and leave this repugnant hideaway." He looked away, stepping out of the building that had once housed humans with dreams, only to be crushed by the weight of reality. He stopped to stand directly in front of the man, mere inches away, eyes studying him for any sign that would warrant his execution. "Only a foolish coward would turn down the offer of who could prove to be a powerful alley." His words carried a hint of humor, mocking one that couldn't see them or hear the words spoken. The farce continued in the chuckle that exited his throat, the noise of amusement and footsteps hitting the walls between them.

He stopped beside the limo, pushing the fringe of his hair away, only for it to fall back. Neberius sighed, he would have to do something about the mess Rory had turned himself into, and get him into more respectful clothes. "I am waiting." He announced, looking to the man and woman, both that had made agreements with those like himself. His tone held no anger, or impatience, as if he could stand here waiting for all eternity. His pale hands slide inside the pockets of Rory's jacket, shoulders held back casually. This could have gone better. However, beggars cannot be choosers, and he would make do with what was presented to him.