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Dream Walkers Never Sleep

Dream Walkers Never Sleep

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[1x1 between Youngblood Prince and Gentlemiss]

1,199 readers have visited Dream Walkers Never Sleep since Gentlemiss created it.

Introduction


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Main Theme
I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Plotline || Species

The two bonded are the leaders of their own respective groups. Now tasked with their new job, they have made an attempt to merge their groups together since they can't be further than 50 yards away from each other without great discomfort.

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Name | Age | Wing | FC: Andrew Biersack | Taken by Youngblood Prince

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Name | Age | Horn | FC: Brendon Urie | Taken by Gentlemiss




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The GM of this roleplay hasn't created any rules! You can do whatever you like!

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 2 authors

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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{ song | 546 }

It started as a pressure behind Erimael Dumah's navel, a soft feeling like a finger hooking and pressing the knuckle in. It came in the morning, as the sun was slipping into Chicago like a low-riding car, working its way down the streets. Erim had been straightening his hair and rearranging his few non-clothing items in the briefcase he was travelling with beside his guitar case. He'd been less making sure everything was there as neatening the arrangement of it. A habit, and something to fill time.

They'd opted for travel by van from Detroit, their previous 'home turf', to Minneapolis, where Erimael had begrudgingly decided they'd move once one of his group members, Nalik, had pointed out that they'd spent nearly a decade in Detroit and needed to move on. A few stragglers in the group had opted to go by wing, but the others had packed themselves into a pair of small moving vans with all their worldly possessions, which, unsurprisingly, weren't many. It was still not exactly the situation which Erim might have chosen were he not accounting for the needs of a dozen other Banished who he had a small, stifled, but still present fierce loyalty to.

Still, when they reached their stop in Chicago before they were to work their way toward Minneapolis, he was more than fed up with the far-too-small space, and much moreso with the squabbling of his group. He left Nalik with his things and took off, presuming he'd find himself a cup of coffee that might loosen the tightness in his gut, and moreso, alleviate the annoyance building in his brain. As he began walking, though, his fingers excavating a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and the collar of his leather jacket turned up against the wind, something about the pressure shifted and dropped dramatically.

His inner compass spun, wild, for a long moment, and then settled, hard, fast, and insistent. His directional center had shifted, and it was pointing anywhere but the coffee shop a few yards from him. Some part of him would have fought it if it didn't feel ghastly familiar, like the binding laws He'd given, long before Erimael had been Banished, like the directions which had meant fulfillment rather than punishment.

So he let the pull take him, six hundred paces northeast, by his own count, and into the heart of Chicago, where the food and coffee were both greasy, and the pizza, exceptional, or so Erimael had been told. Perhaps not so coincidentally, Erim had stopped in front of a pizza place, or, more correctly, in the disused stoop between a ratty-looking cafe-bookstore, which seemed a much more worthwhile endeavor to Erim than gluten with tomato and animal-excretion on it, and a classic looking pizza joint in Chicago's true style.

He snubbed his cigarette butt with the heel of his boot and let his arms cross behind his back, eyes steady, muscles mostly unmoving. And that was where Erimael Dumah waited for his higher calling to come to him, because some instinct said he should, and because the longer he waited, he could feel the pull tightening, the feeling solidifying in his gut. And he knew the law of things; the Plan was always carried out.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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Phenex woke up an hour before noon (way too early, if you ask him) with a migraine and a ache in his stomach. Which was odd, considering he doesn't remember breaking into the liquor cabinet last night. He knew Alastor had already come and gone from the vanilla-mint smell coming from the tiny kitchen his flat had, and knowing Alastor he probably left out medicine as well, for the hangover they all were sure he had. It wasn't like he drank a lot, he rationalized mentally as he dragged himself out of bed, he just got tipsy on half a glass of wine.

Half an hour, two cups of coffee, and two tylenol later he still felt the ache. His migraine had finally succumb to the meds and his body's instinctive healing process, which told him that nothing was wrong there, and he started to get the feeling this was something else. After hiding his tail and horns and tugging on a tight black pair of jeans and a white vneck, he's in the elevator heading down to the basement where the rest of his group is. They don't all live there, some have branched out and live nearby or in the city, but the newbies and those in his inner circle do. It's not that bad, actually, living in an old abandoned hotel. There's enough room for everyone, and the basement is the perfect place for meetings and training.

When he actually gets down there though, they have a slightly different plan. They have that cute, only-recently-Banished boy come over and ask him to get them pizza since he's "never had it before and would really love to try it..." and now Phen is on his way downtown, dodging business men on their smartphones and people on bikes, trying to sell whatever crap they have on the back of it. Originally he's heading towards the place that's nearby, and the pressure in his stomach is starting to give, but then he stops to turn into the shop and it's back tenfold. This definitely was something else.

Phenex finally gives in. He lets himself focus on nothing but that pull and follows it wherever it's trying to lead him. Usually he isn't the type to take orders, but this feels familiar. Subconsciously he knows exactly what it feels like, but his conscious mind refuses to entertain the idea. It's when, finally, he can barely feel the pull anymore that he starts to assess his surroundings. It's like the supernatural have a sort of hypersensitivity to other supernatural beings, and Phen zeroes in on that right away. There's another nearby and-. When he finds the Wing finally, it's like someone has grabbed the invisible tether and yanked. "Shit."

Begrudgingly, he started moving again, this time in the direction of the Wing. It's obvious now, as it probably is to the other as well, this is who he's been being led to. Phen stops a comfortable distance away, posture relaxed enough that passerby's might think they were just friends chatting. His eyes flick down to the cigarette bud on the ground, then zeroes in on the faint scent on smoke remaining on the Wing. "That's a real nasty habit." His lips turn up in a smirk. "Shouldn't a goody-two-shoes like you know better than that, Erimael?"

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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{ song | 472 }

There was a distinct sinking feeling in Erim's stomach as the dark haired man approached him. He sized up his opponent, and weighed the intense lurch toward the man in his gut. He could tell the man as a Horn almost immediately, the sour taste welling on the back of his tongue confirmed that. As soon as it did, he dropped his vague 'at ease' position for a much less respectful gentle slouch and crossed arms.

The illusions started as reflex, Erimael hardly had to think to let them distort his face into something forgettable, with a less pronounced beauty and a harder jaw, browner eyes and browner features. Less particularly pronounced clothing. As soon as the illusions have seen to Erim's appearance, they melt out into his surroundings, minorly, near-unnoticeable. Small distortions. Erim's expression doesn't change, his eyes remain steady on the Horn approaching, daring him to think that was a defense mechanism rather than a blatant casting aside of respect meant for a messenger of His, or another Wing, and not in the slightest for the unexpected Horn he was faced with.

And then there he was, smirking, and standing a sidewalk tile away, all loose muscle and a face that made Erimael's skin crawl. Erimael tried to find a name to attach to the face while he spoke,

"That's a real nasty habit. Shouldn't a goody-two-shoes like you know better than that, Erimael?"

Erim let a sharp hiss of breath through his teeth, but made no further motion to show his distaste, or to hide his eyes while he let them investigate the Horn head to toe.

Shorter, about as slim. If it came to blows, Erimael put himself out as the winning, easy. Something about the feel of him in that sense-memory-empathy, and more importantly in his eyes, said that he would at least give Erimael a run for his money in a battle of wits. Erimael took note. The confidence read high status, or just a general arrogance, maybe both, the age behind it, it all stacked up to similar enough to associate this Horn with a Horn Erimael had heard whispers of. He noted.

Erimael raised an eyebrow, uncrossing his arms to retrieve the pack of cigarettes and offer one to the Horn, a sort of peace offering, because Erimael wasn't interested in how many Horns might be around if one was. And because of the pull.

"Phenex, I'm assuming?," Erimael paused to give Phenex a pointed look (his lip quirked, the tiniest bit, to a quick observer, upward into a smirk), "I very much don't need lecturing about my flaws from a Horn child. I can't imagine you're here to get a pizza?" He gave a short huff of breath, the only real tell to it being sarcasm, his voice not quirking.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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Phenex loved the feeling of being watched. Feeling their gaze on you as it made its way from head to toe, Phen could live on just that. He doesn't bother giving Erimael the same treatment, he knows Wings are fully capable of altering their appearance, or at least making it seem so. Instead his own eyes rest on the strangers face, unmoving. He'll have to rely on other, less physical, traits. He enjoys the reaction he gets from his comment, and he lets it show. Phen is the personification of 'throwing caution to the wind'. Call it arrogance, or maybe being a leader has gone to his head, but he worries about very few things and does mostly whatever he pleases.

He's thinking the same thing the Wing is, if they decided to duke it out right here in the street, he'd probably lose. There's no use lying to himself about that. Phen's always relied on his words, on having some sort of leverage against his enemy, this certainly was not a situation he had proper time to prepare for.

It's not surprising that he knows who he is, Phenex tells himself as he reaches for one of the cigarettes. He hasn't been around half as long as most, and he's risen to the top rather swiftly. Rumors were sure to go around about it. Hell, rumors were the reason he knew about the Wing standing in front of him. The cigarette ignites the moment it touches his lips.

"You assume right, wow, want a cookie?" Phen is just an asshole, part sarcastic, part irritating (and maybe a tiny part childish, he is reluctant to admit). A moment later he catches on to the part where Erimael is calling him a child too, and now it's a little insulting. "Just because I'm not ancient like you, grandpa, that doesn't mean I'm a child." Phen huffs, flicking sparks at the Wing from his fingertips, assuming he has them in an illusion anyways so no human is going to notice. "And actually, I am here to get pizza. Well, I would have preferred the place two blocks from my flat but They apparently had a different idea." He rolls his eyes, stepping slightly closer to the Wing and dropping his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe. "Let's get coffee, I'm starting to feel my last cup wear off. Now I'm all for going dutch on the first date, but the man really should pay..." And he's brushing past the other creature, with utter disregard for caution and safety and, well, personal space.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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{ song | 338 }

Erimael's eyes caught the cigarette catching and a cherry forming at the tip. It stole his eyes for a moment, an instinctual caution well hidden. He let his upper lip twitch a little at the flippant comment. He made another soft hiss when the Horn flung sparks at him. Erim frowned the tiniest bit, shaking his head, but told himself not to retaliate until he'd figured out as much as he could about why this was happening.

Erim was going to ask Phenex why he was getting a pizza but it became less relevant when the Horn decides they're going to have coffee. Erimael snorts, taking a step back as Phen steps all too close, and then follows him into the cafe with a huff.

"Oh yes do tell me more of how you're mature for your age. The lady doth protest too much, and it's so very amusing," Erim said with a measured smile. His eyes flicked to his surroundings, checking to see if it was big enough; it was. He made a beeline for the bar, seeing no 'please wait to be seated' sign, and looked over his shoulder to make sure Phenex was following, a reaction to the pull strengthening a little again.

Erim sat back on the stool at the counter, raising his eyebrows at Phenex and falling into a comfortable stance. He shook his head slowly.

"So," he began, "I can only imagine They're doing this for a reason. Have you done anything recent They might be punishing you for? I can't recall anything so large on my side that They'd take such a... personal force on it. So I'm supposing it must be you." Erim pursed his lips minutely, eyes steady, his fingers slowly found the beat of the music on his knee and as soon as a waitress was within sight, he beckoned her over and politely (but rather briskly) ordered two coffees, light and sweet, before returning his gaze to Phenex.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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Phenex isn't sure how to feel about the Wing stepping away from him. It's good in the sense that it means he's at least a little unsure about this, but it doesn't do wonders for his self-esteem. He supposes that polishing his ego isn't on the top of Erimael's list, though. As they make their way into the cafe he's listening to the Wing, and grinning to himself and he swiftly turns around and steps forward so he's right in his way. "And here I was thinking you were all for a little playful protesting, darn." Phen steps out of the way in time to turn and watch Erim go straight for the bar. He sighs and follows.

"I really am pretty mature," Phen says as he takes a seat next to the Wing, as if he actually thinks that he wanted to know more about what level of maturity he was at. "After my second wakes me up and makes my breakfast, I pick out my own outfit and put it on all by myself." He glances at the Wing, trying to judge his reaction. If he was stuck with someone that didn't have a sense of humor he was going to have to throw himself off a building (though he'd just get back up after his bones healed). After a moment he shuts off his inner monologue and lets himself listen to whatever Erimael has to say.

Phenex's jaw actually drops a little. "Hey!" His eyes narrow, and he attempts to look convincingly hurt. "I can't believe you think I did something to make them angry. I'm the most loyal servant out there." The act fails somewhere in the middle of that last sentence. He chuckles, a low rumbly sound that makes his chest vibrate, as he slides the mug the waitress has just brought over a little closer to him. After taking a sip and finding it unpleasantly luke warm, he wraps both hands around the mug and heats it up himself before having another drink. "Mm, much better." His eyes flutter shut and he sighs, letting himself have what he assumes is going to be his last happy moment for the next... well until he gets un-bound from the thing sitting next to him.

"It probably is me." Phenex admits, giving Erimael his attention again. "Though I can't think of anything I've done recently that is any worse that what I usually do." He shrugs, grabbing one of the toothpicks they have out on the counter and sticking it between his lips so he has something else to focus on.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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{ song | 702 }

Erimael lets out a small huff when Phenex steps in front of him, once more too close. It's not so much that he's scared of being touched by Phen, or that he's avoiding it because Phenex is in some way unappealing (Okay, maybe it's a little of that- Erimael has, after all, been raised entirely to despise Phenex' kin.) Erimael just also tends to enjoy his own space. And he has a sinking feeling that this pull is going to ruin that for him.

"Playful banter is just fine," Erimael says, "disregarding manners, on the other hand, is absolutely something I'd expect of a Horn, isn't it? No use trying to teach you anything else." He chuckled a little well-calculated chuckle, his eyes remaining level on Phenex. He wasn't going to break eye contact until the youngster knew damn well how long he could hold it.

Erimael chuckles, well, he snorts and then chuckles, but he'd much prefer the snort forgotten or overseen, at Phen's sarcasm. The snort is soft, underplayed, while the chuckle is laid out more properly (although carefully curtailed to show he's not that amused), Erimael is choosing which reactions he shows most clearly. He's trying to tailor an image of 'nonthreatening' above all else; he has no interest getting into it with a Horn in his own territory and has no interest in whatever this pull might do to him if he hurts the party it's pulling him toward.

"Oh, yes, good for you, I suppose you can also tie your own shoes?" Erimael Dumah asks, the corner of his mouth twitching up into that miniscule smirk once more. The smirk solidifies a little when Phenex' jaw nearly literally drops.

And then he's chuckling himself through a defense of his honor, and Erimael shakes his head. He runs a hand through his hair, and lets illusion make it look and feel longer than it is, like the dark mane he wore in his youth, shoulderlength and thicker than the psuedo-mohawk he wears these days. (Something about Phenex might make him feel a bit younger, but he's not ready to address that.)

Erimael sighs. He's not looking forward to being bound to this Horn, but he's starting to see why, if They thought more into it than selecting random Banished Horn and Wing leaders, they might have chosen the two of them to compliment each other. That won't make him concede to being around Phenex so easily, though. He takes a long swig of coffee, observing Phenex' reaction to the coffee with a tiny smile hidden by his mug.

"I don't doubt it could have been either of us, in that case," Erimael says with once more pursed lips, "They're doing this for something larger than us, is my guess. I can only imagine you were trusted by Her before you were banished, and She still has some residual trust. They work in mysterious, albeit often predictable ways." Erimael's lip slowly worried the ring in his lip behind his teeth and then slowly out of his mouth again, "You mentioned your second. I'll assume you have a group."

It takes more than Erimael is proud to admit to say what he does next; "On your terms, seeing as this seems to be your city or something of the ilk, I believe me and mine will need accommodations. I expect them to be treated respectfully. I don't much care what words and actions you use for me, but you cannot punish them for whatever this," Erimael pauses to gesture between the two of them, the illusion shifts around his fingers, color bends around them momentarily to convey what he's alluding to; a deep, cool-colored thread extends between the two of them, Erimael's fingers caught in it, before it disappears as he continues, "is. I can treat your group with the same respect. And I believe we'll need ground rules."

Erimael sighs, mouth pulling tight in one corner while he raises his eyebrows and looks over Phenex. He very much didn't anticipated this situation. He wants to be anywhere but here. He forces himself to worry with his lip ring instead of fleeing, takes a long, long drink of coffee.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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Phenex can tell Erimael is already drawing his conclusions about him, and they're all exactly what he wants them to be. A typical Horn, young and reckless, immature and overly confident. He may not have the best poker face, but he's great at painting a facade over his true self. It's creating an illusion without altering anything but himself, and he's quite talented at it. Perhaps he has overdone it slightly by revealing any information about he and his group. He wants the Wing to think he's foolish and loose lipped, true, but he hadn't meant to say anything important. What concerns him more is that he had been entirely unaware he had even mentioned Alastor to the Wing, which means he needs to start paying more attention. There was a look of hesitance that crossed Phen's features, but it was gone a moment later.

"Shoes, actually, are still a little difficult." Phen answers, slipping out of his head and back into conversation. "But fortunately, I don't have that problem." He twists a bit in his seat so his shoes are visible, and he wiggles his feet back and forth to show off the straight-laces, no need for any tying there. But that's because Phenex is lazy, not because he can't tie a bow.

He doesn't bother to give any reaction or say anything in return to what the Wing says next, because he doubts that he cares about why or why not She might still trust him. Besides, that's something Phen would rather like to keep private. That entire part of his life is better locked up inside his head, there are things he did that he should be ashamed of, and other things that his enemies could use against him. Instead he focuses on watching the Wing as he speaks, admittedly only paying a little more than half attention, because his mind is now wandering and he's wondering what might Erimael's wings look like and how large might they be. Truly, he should know by now that curiosity killed the cat, but he's sort of the dog-type anyways.

Phenex secretly likes hearing Chicago being called his city. That's not entirely true, no, but it doesn't make him like the sound of it any less. What he likes less is the idea that he now not only has to room his group, but apparently he's also become the supernatural homeless shelter in the last second and a half. Or... perhaps this is a good thing.


He doesn't know if the Wing looks down to see his little color-trick, but Phen does. Phen stares, and makes a mental note to convince the Wing to do more of that for him before he speaks up again. "I don't know exactly what you seem to be assuming about my group, but I assure you we aren't just some ragtag team of unruly, disrespectful Horns. There's Wings that have joined us too, yes, your perfect, goody-two shoes species are fraternizing with us immature, destructive Horns. Shocking, hm? So don't assume we don't have manners or don't know how to treat our guests with a little bit of hospitality." At the end he realises there's tiny puffs of smoke coming out of his nostrils as he breathes, and he quickly shuts out the anger he has pouring in from a hundred years of pent up rage towards Wings thinking they're a thousand times better than Horns simply because they were trained by Him.

"I need to order pizzas." Phenex says, choking down the rest of his coffee before he stands. He reaches into his pocket to grab a small wad of bills and, after searching for a moment, he throws a tenner down on the counter. "Let's head next door so I can order and tell them where to send it, after that we can go grab your group I guess and talk about whatever 'ground rules' you have in mind." He makes air quotes around the word, mocking the Wing. "Unless you don't need to, then we can make up some rules, that I'm most likely going to break by the way, on the way to mine."

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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{ song | 726 }

A quick observer, Erim catches the look of hesitance at the mention of his group. Erimael immediately tells himself to memorize every half-thought fact this Horn drops from his mouth; it's unlikely he'll get information from him any other way. Some part of his hunger for the world has expanded momentarily to include a hunger for information about Phen; perhaps because of the sudden binding, perhaps only to know why They chose him of all Horns. Jury's still out on whether it was random or not.

Erimael lets out a sort of almost-snort when he sees Phenex' shoes. "You don't seriously wear those because you cannot tie your shoes, do you?" he asks, illusion catching his lip ring, disappearing it for a long moment, another reflex rather than actual intention to create the image.

He notes Phen's skimming over the reason why She may not trust him and makes no move to linger in the topic; he knows how things like that go and he'd rather not be talking about what got him Banished. And he has a feeling that that's the price he'd have to pay for the information. Everyone has their reason for the Banishment; the one Horn with whom Erimael has spent any large amount of time, a young, younger than Phenex, Horn recently Banished who joined onto their group back into Detroit, was Banished for far worse than most of his Wing counterparts. Erim can only assume the same would be true of Phenex; he's never known another Horn closely.

Erimael half-chuffed, half-chuckled at Phen's short speech on the presence of Wings in his group. "There's a Horn in mine, youngest of the group, little shit, but you act as though I discount you on your species as much as I discount you on your actions. Prove to me you won't be an insufferable prick like many of you are," he paused to give Phen a look and down his coffee, "and I won't treat you as one, Phenex."

When he sees the smoke, he looks around and lightens it by illusion, not making it disappear like he might have, but making it less perceptible. A way to show he wasn't going to rob Phenex of his silly expressions, but he also didn't particularly want to make a scene, because making a scene meant this would become a production, which Erim very much was not interested in.

Erim slides another few bills onto the counter, if only to both account for tip and keep his toehold as not-the-guest-in-this-place. He looked imploringly at Phen, his lip ring flickered back into visibility when he went to work it in and out of his mouth again, letting the ball trap rest momentarily between his teeth before he spoke.

"Why do you need pizza? You don't eat," he points out, then shakes his head, "If I can get in contact with my second by the damn telecommunications device and you'll tell me where you'd like them I can have my second bring them." Erim stops himself before he points out that his second handles his group better than he does and is, in general, much better at being in charge. He's still not ready, in the slightest, to show his weaknesses to Phenex in such blatant light.

As he stands, he pulls a small smartphone out of a pocket in his coat and, after a few moments of wrestling with it, manages to unlock the screen. He stares at it from there, because he's not entirely sure how to work it, but Nalik insisted he get one just in case. He continues looking at the screen incredulously while he struggles to remember how Nalik said to contact him. He finds one of the icons at the bottom, and thank god Nalik and a few of the others are the only ones in the phone, because it's relatively easy to pull up a screen to text one of them.

The text is a little more tricky, and while he's trying to type, little blue lines keep trying to connect his letters. He makes a confused, frustrated sound somewhere between a dial up tone and a growl, but manages to barely explain what's going on and that he needs Nalik to move the group.

He looks up from the phone, giving Phenex a half-indignant look before he checks his emotions again. Technology always seems to get the better of him. His expression returns to neutral. The illusions, momentarily, vanish, and he looks at Phenex, momentarily almost-himself in appearance, the only illusion remaining was a residual, almost-constant one which he always had around; one to brown his eyes and harden his jaw. Two things to make him more easily forgotten.

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Character Portrait: Erimael Dumah Character Portrait: Phenex
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[size=105]Phenex's curiosity always gets the best of him, no matter the situation. He's nearly ruined deals over it. Even if everything is going the way he wants it to, if he even gets the tiniest feeling that something is being withheld or that he doesn't know everything, Phen will go to insane (and annoying) lengths to get whatever it is out. Perhaps that is also where his immaturity shows most, he's like a child that has been told he can stay up past his bedtime, but then keeps asking for more time. He does everything 'too much'.

"You have one of those snort laughs," Phen tell the Wing, as if he wasn't aware of it already. "I can't decide if it's frustratingly adorable or just annoying." He looks like he's giving serious thought to it, and perhaps he actually is, as he tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes. "I'll get back to you on that one. As for the shoes, well I'll get back to you on that as well. I think Alastor said we'd be going over tying knots today..." Phenex was a chatterbox, he always had something to say about everything. That's probably how he had slipped up before in mentioning his second, sometimes once you got him started, he didn't know when to stop. This is also, unfortunately, the same situation when he's drunk. Now it doesn't matter if Erimael knows about Alastor, which is why he referred to him by name, because apparently he's going to be living with him now anyways and they were bound to run into one another at some point. Probably sometime in the morning while Phen is still passed out in bed and Alastor is bringing up his breakfast.

The Wing replies to his rant a lot more levelheaded than Phenex would have expected. "Yes, well see the thing is, I am very much an insufferable prick." Phenex gives a fake apologetic look, pursing his lips and shrugging. "I'm just saying my boys aren't, and I'll destroy you and your group before I let any of them disrespect one of my own." There's that fierce loyalty that comes out once every other blue moon, though he hides it under a threat because he doesn't like letting anyone see how incredibly protective he is of his adopted family. "So really, just don't and we'll be fine. Let's just hurry up and figure out how to get rid of this annoying... whatever it is."

Phen watches as he places more money on the counter, which may be insulting but he couldn't care less. Though if he did, he would make a point about it, even in front of all these people. Erimael would learn very quickly that Phenex was actually rather fond of making a scene. The next time he looks at Erim he notices the lip ring has returned.

"I need pizza because this stupid adorable kid in my group has never had pizza and did I mention he was adorable?" Phen shakes his head, mostly at himself for being so easily persuaded by a pretty face. He always has been though, he has a soft spot for beauty. At first, he has no idea what the Wing means by 'telecommunication device', but it slowly slides into place in his head when the smartphone gets pulled out. And then it takes every ounce of self control to not burst out laughing, because he doesn't want to hurt poor technologically impaired Erim's feelings too much. He bites down on his first knuckle to keep himself quiet as he watches the old man with an amused look.

"I've decided, you are most definitely frustratingly adorable." Phen nods seriously, though there's laughter in his eyes as he turns and heads to the door. "I'll have to try and teach you how to use one of those. It's honestly not that difficult, I'm surprised you have so much trouble with it." Then again, Phenex has a total nerd-on for everything techy, so he has a tiny advantage. They go next door so Phen can order his pizzas and tell them where to deliver it, the Horn ignoring the Wing purposefully until they're outside again. "You know, eventually you're going to have to quit with the illusion. At least on yourself." He says as he starts to lead them in the direction of the abandoned hotel, which isn't more than a twenty minute walk from where they are. "With this thing keeping us bound, it's not like it even matters if I don't know what you look like, I'll always be able to find you. So you should just show me." He shrugs, acting like he really wouldn't care either way, but he's truly curious.

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Erimael watches the intensity adjust minutely in Phenex' eyes, and forces himself not to think extensively on the upper limits of how much that intensity could grow. He's beginning to recognize that this Horn before him, despite age, may very well be more than capable of holding his own against Erim. He continues with a cautious underestimation, though. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

Erim forced himself not to snort laugh at that. "I prefer to think of myself as neither adorable nor annoying, but I suppose I'd take adorable first if given the option. Do tell me how your shoelace lessons go." Erim took note of what was, presumably, the name of Phenex' second in command. He assumes the information's coming easier now because of the situation. They'll be forced together for as long as They deem it so, and so it's no use hiding the things they'll learn about each other simply out of proximity.

It's the protectiveness behind the aggression that throws Erimael for a loop about Phenex. He didn't anticipate it in the slightest, but it fits comfortably into the expanding view of Phenex he's slowly receiving. Erimael has a deep protectiveness and loyalty for his group, too- they're comparatively tight knit to groups they've met before, because if they didn't pass by Erim's incredibly slim sense of 'people who I can stand', they didn't stay with the group, and moreso they stayed together less out of ideologies or goals than that they enjoyed each other's company, at least in moderation. This in itself had fostered a loyalty and empathy for the group, along with the sheer time they'd spent together; the only member of the group present there for less than a century is the young Horn who begged his way into their protection, and later their friendship and trust as well, not seventy years prior. Even if many of them are often poor at showing it (for some reason they seem to be an awfully socially reserved (or in the case of some, awkward) group.) they all retain quite a bit of loyalty for one another.

Still, Erimael expects as much out of Wings (and the unmistakably innocent young Horn previously mentioned.) but out on a Horn, the loyalty and protectiveness is an entirely different breed of fashion. He made no real effort to hide the look of vaguest surprise his face took on while Phenex spoke about his group, although he quickly moved on.

"Agreed, the quicker this is over, I believe the less issues will be had," he says, "Me and mine won't shed the first blood. We're civilized, and furthermore we try not to be rude to our hosts should we have them. I can assure you that I'll do my best to ensure no disrespect comes to yours if none comes to mine." His eyes went from amused to steely; serious, and willing to show it.

"And just because he's never had something is a reason to purchase more than one of something you don't need?" Erimael asks, raising his eyebrows. "I haven't eaten since 'pizza' still referred to the sweet dish, and I don't believe anyone's ever complained about it," he points out. (It's true; Erimael hasn't eaten since 1917, when a promotional offer released a preview of a book which he'd been far too interested in, in pamphlet form, along with a meal at a high class restaurant.)

Erim's eyes flick up to see Phen stifling laughter about his inability to function the phone. He lets a scowl touch his face. "You'll call anything adorable, won't you?" he asks, trying to ignore how nice real laughter looks in the Horn's eyes.

At the next request, Erimael shakes his head, giving the Horn a bemused expression. He shrugs, raising his arms and letting the illusions make his tattoos slide across his skin, moving tracks of ink along his arms and fingers. "Who says, precisely, that the me I create with illusion isn't me?" he asks. He leans back a little, looking at the pizza shop's counter, ignoring the phone buzzing in his pocket; Nalik will take the order he was given, even if his questions go unanswered.

"Perhaps when you stop modulating your reactions and trying to manipulate the conversation into gaining my personal information and begin realising that we may very well be in this situation for the long haul and we may as well treat each other as though that's the case, I'll show you what I really look like," the Wing muses, smiling lightly as he looks up to the sky. It looks like clouds are moving in.

"Storm, maybe," he says, displeasure etched into his face.

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Phenex doesn't feel the need to continue the conversation about their groups and making sure they respect one another, so he doesn't. Instead he lets himself focus on what is really important, finding out more about Erimael. He's heard rumors, but there is rarely much truth in those, and he can't rely on them. Instead he can study the stranger Wing beside him and try to pick him apart the way he does most people. Unfortunately it's infinitely harder, considering he seems to be just as practiced as Phen when it comes to keeping his thoughts and emotions under lock and key. Though they do it in different ways, the Wing seems to keep himself perfectly neutral, whereas Phen masks himself by making a big deal out of everything else.

So instead he addresses the newly risen pizza problem. "Who doesn't need pizza?" Phenex looks genuinely shocked, as if this is extremely important. "I actually quite enjoy eating, thank you." Odd, how he finds someone not wanting pizza more of a priority than the whole bonded-to-a-Wing-and-They-probably-want-us-to-do-something-for-them thing. That's sort of how Phen is though, he'll learn eventually. At least, that's how he wants everyone to see him. Maybe somewhere on the inside he's freaking out about being bonded to a Wing. Who knows? Certainly not Phenex's conscious mind, since his subconscious loves to hide things from him. There's a baby-gate between the two, the baby being his consciousness.

It's sort of like his relationship with Alastor. His second is centuries older than him, but Phenex is stronger in every aspect, yet Alastor still brings him breakfast and makes his coffee and typically takes care of most things for Phen, because everyone sees him as a child with a lot of power, which makes him a ticking time bomb. They might as well wrap him up in bubble wrap and lock him away in a tower so he can't explode. For a moment he entertains the thought of Erimael being the one up in the tower, and wonders if his hair would be long enough for Phen to climb up. "Nah, seems like a lot of work." Apparently he's been staring at the Wing, and wouldn't be surprised if he's officially made him uncomfortable now.

"I don't call everything adorable. Just really adorable things. Like you not being able to function a phone, or a newly Banished Wing boy with gorgeous blue eyes, or me." Phen chuckles. "I mean, have you seen me? Of course you have, I can't illusion myself a new look. I'm a-door-a-bull." He makes a show of batting his eyelashes and biting his lip, falling back into playful now that he doesn't have to rip Erimael's head off to warn him to be respectful to his group. Tattoos moving cause him to sober up a bit, and he starts to lean forwards as if he's going to touch the traveling ink, but he stops himself. Shaking his head and giving a careful laugh, he puts his eyes forward again and looks anywhere but the Wing. "I'm not modulating anything." He says defensively, but he's half-smiling. "But I'm starting to get the sense you're a bit insecure. Don't worry, I understand it's hard to feel good about your looks when you're next to someone that looks like I do, but I'm sure you're quite adorable yourself." The Wing mentions the weather and Phenex snorts, about to make some quip about 'are we really talking about the weather now?' when he sees Erimael's expression. "Not crazy about rain or something?"

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Erimael fails, this time, at stifling the snort. "You don't need pizza," he insists, but shakes his head. He figures at this point it's a lost cause. He begins wondering how long; what percentage of Phenex' short life he's spent on earth in the company of humans. He wonders if, like Erim, Phenex might have learned his habits in humanity's cradle by virtue of the sheer ration of time on earth versus time with the Horns proper, or if, like Ophaniel, Erimael's groups de facto lawman, he'd spent enough time previous to his Banishment with his own kind to create a sense of their order above all else, and to be impervious to the slow creep of humanity's passion and fallibility. Or if it's something entirely different. Erim shakes his head. The Horn is too much of a mystery to be solved in an afternoon, and moreso a less prioritized mystery than what the purpose of the bond between them is.

As Phenex stares, Erimael takes the opportunity to let his features shift; a still harder jaw and deep almost-jet eyes, to a deathly pale face, to a close proximity, once more. of what he does actually look like. "A lot of work?" he asks, eyebrows raised and that smirk crawling onto his lips, "Don't like what you see, I take it?" He reaches out and taps Phenex' chin with a curled knuckle.

"Don't let a lady catch you staring like that, Phenex, you'd be slapped," Erimael's voice stayed level, but the smile on his lips and in his eyes gave away the amusement.

"Not being able to work telecommunications in this day and age is not cute; it's perhaps the most inconvenient thing about technology," Erimael started, he took a deep breath like he was going to continue (the amount of arguments he'd had over technology with Nalik in the recent months was bordering on ridiculous at this point and it was instinct to jump into them) but he caught himself, screwing his eyebrows together. Instead he took another breath and met Phenex' eyes with that sparking behind them again.

"You certainly do like this newcomer to your group, don't you? I'd warn you against taking chances robbing cradles but you're only a baby yourself," Erimael says with a small chuff.

He takes in how Phenex' eyes follow his moving ink and, although he'd been planning to, neglects to halt their movement. He lets them distort into different patterns. If it's this easy to distract Phenex, he'll have to put on little skin picture shows moreoften.

"You can touch them. It's nothing special, though," he says, low, "It'll feel like skin. Putting in enough elements to make the illusion feel is more complicated, and I don't bother with it for tattoos." He moved his wrist against Phenex' fingers, electing to use that as the distraction to avoid talking about his own appearance, and let the illusions track the tattoos down his arm and across his wrist onto Phenex' fingers, and then up his arm.

"Mm," Erim hummed, "Hate the rain. I'm sure you've never dealt with attempting to make a quick escape on wet feathers. We should go before it starts. I'd very much like to be inside when it does, if it's not a bother. Or if it is."

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Despite what he has everyone believe, Phenex enjoys humanity. The mundaneness of it appeals to him. Maybe, in another life, he could have been the white picket fence kind of guy. Settled down with a cute boy-next-door type (after many years of being a crazy bachelor, of course) and just be normal. Unfortunately he doesn't get that, being immortal and whatnot, it'd be kind of difficult to explain that. Though he can still play the crazy bachelor, and Phen does, more often than he'd like to admit since he's supposed to be a leader and all. Great example he is. Phen can't help but get lost in the little things. Everything extraordinary is normal for Wings and Horns, so things like pizza and movies and the hustle-bustle of the city are his flavor of exciting.

The Wings appearance shifts again, and Phen decides he very much does not like it. The art of illusion has always been interesting to him, and those of his group that know it are often bothered by him to create something for him, but he doesn't have anyone that's nearly as skilled as Erimael. Not surprising, but still upsetting. He would have to convince him to do it more often, for Phen, not to hide things from him. "I don't know what I see to say if I like it or not," Phenex complained, too curious now about what Erim looks like. Skin touches skin and Phen flashes fangs playfully, and if he wasn't bond to this guy for who knows how long, he probably would have licked him. But there was no sense in harassing (more so than he already was) the Wing because it would benefit both parties if they could at least somewhat get along. "To be honest, I was picturing you as Rapunzel locked in a tower, and wondering if your hair would grow long enough for me to climb up... But climbing is a lot of work so, I'd hope you had enough food up there and probably take off to find an easier damsel." Phen shrugs.

"You're near as bad as Alastor, he's always calling me 'kid' this and 'child' that. Next you'll pick up that annoying nickname he's taken to calling me, too." Little Bird, a play on his name and his age, it annoyed him to no end. Alastor didn't care much if he was annoyed though, and the name stuck. "Besides that, I couldn't anyways, wouldn't that be like favoritism or something? Can't sleep with them all."

Then they're talking about illusions again and the rest is lost on Phen, because he's been given permission to touch and he likes to touch. Normally he wouldn't need permission but, this guy could probably rip his head off if he felt like it. Without warning his claws flash out, and he manages to twist his hand back enough that it doesn't snag the Wings skin. Unprepared for the tattoos to move onto him at all, his surprise made them appear. "Sorry, didn't mean to." They disappeared back into his fingers a moment later and he moved his arm back to his side. "Come on, the hotel isn't far from here, we can make it before it starts raining." He gets up and grabs the pizza box that was recently sat down in front of him, then heads outside. "You better not need to make any quick escapes though, unless you plan on carrying me whilst flying again. We're a little tied up, if you hadn't noticed." Phen arches a brow at Erim, then thinks that it really wouldn't be that bad, he would probably enjoy flying. He starts walking, and checks over his shoulder a moment later to make sure Erim was coming, then says quietly, "I do need pizza."

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Erimael decides he doesn't know how to feel about the Horn showing his attributes; there's a deep, imploring curiosity beginning to bloom behind his sternum and in his gut, he wants to see more of Phenex, all of it. He wants to observe him and make the judgement on this bond from there. It doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Then again, Erimael thinks... It's a Horn he's talking about. Yes, there are exceptions to the unspoken 'all Horns are assholes' rule, but Erim wasn't the type to hand out benefit of the doubt like free samples.

He shook his head at Phenex, although he let the little signature charismatic-amused smile touch his lips while he shook his head. "I do have wings, towers aren't exactly my largest adversary. And I'm the farthest thing from a damsel in distress, thank you." The tone remained even, joking.

"I think I should like to meet this Alastor. Perhaps he can teach me how best to torment you," Erim says with a quirked eyebrow, then, in a lower voice, "As a Horn I'm sure you have the tactics set out to sleep with them all should you have the interest, Phenex. I have full faith in your abilities as an unclean creature."

Erimael doesn't move his arm as Phenex' claws click out, he's more than aware that if the Horn wanted to hurt him, he would let the claws hit flesh right away. Erim smirked at Phenex. "Watch yourself, child, if you're to spend time around me you really do have to expect that," then, "Do tell me about this mysterious hotel."

He grimaced a little at the mention of assisted escapes. "Well," he reasons, "You don't look horribly heavy. My rank was high enough before Banishment, I could handle the weight." He looks up at the sky again, fixing the grey clouds with a death-glare.

"Hm. After ground rules I elect we find something strong to drink and you show me those horns of yours, Horn. Your claws are a bit drab, I can only expect I won't be disappointed with your more prominent feature?"

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Phenex doesn't like to judge a book by it's cover, but he's quite sure everyone would agree with him about Wings being stuck up dickheads. Thus far Erimael doesn't seem as bad as some, but he's bordered on 'high and mighty' once or twice already and Phen isn't thrilled to see how that one plays out. Phen is arrogant enough for the both of them, if Erimael ends up being even half as bad they're going to have a problem (and Alastor will probably get a kick out of it, and laugh at Phen a lot). The easy banter they have going on is comforting, their humor might not be the same but it's not so different that they're just going to annoy each other with it. "Shame, I think you'd make a cute damsel." He's tempted to reach over and pinch one of the Wings cheeks, but decides not to.

"You'll meet him when we get to the hotel, he kind of takes care of everything I don't want to. He'd also probably be thrilled to teach you the infinite ways to torment me." Phen shook his head, huffing. But Erimael would learn quickly that Phenex returns every bit of it that he receives. "As for my status as unclean,- and I prefer the term dirty, thank you -I have thought about it. I suppose I could just... ah, no, that wouldn't be any fun." There's a sparkle in the Horns eyes as he contemplates it, mischievous, but then it's gone as it dawns on him that it would never work. "Though I appreciate your faith in my abilities, perhaps I'll have to put them to good use and show you, hm?" Oh Phen, no flirting with the enemy.

It bothers him a twinge that he doesn't move his arm when his claws appear, but perhaps he shouldn't think of it so much as he isn't afraid of Phen, but more as he 'trusts' him enough that he wasn't intentionally trying to wound him. If Phenex can get all buddy-buddy with the Wing, maybe they both have a chance of getting out of this without seriously injuring one another. "You could have at least warned me," Phen complains gruffly, continuing with the idea that his abilities make him uncomfortable. Truthfully they do, at least a little, but he's playing it up slightly. "Anyways, it's just an abandoned hotel, and it was a pretty tiny one, only five floors including the basement. That leaves three floors for your group to pick from, by the way, since the top is mine. They can have whatever as long as they make sure it doesn't already belong to one of mine." It's a good thing that another group of his newbies just graduated and most had moved on, or else he might not have had enough space.

Phen decides to take the high road and ignore the comment about him not looking 'horribly heavy', because any response he has to that is just going to make the Wing laugh at him. Besides, the idea of liquor is much more appealing than discussing the percentage of fat his body is made up of. "This is perhaps the first good idea you've had since I've met you." Though he'll need to remind Alastor to stick around, or nearby at least, if they're going to start drinking. "As for the horns, I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Phenex winks at him, even though being childish is just going to cement the idea of Phen being a child in the Wings head. "Your wings, I mean. And my claws are not 'drab', you jerk."

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