hang your halo || o p e n __♥;;

[Lynx Cassidy]

Lets wear these sheets around as clothes
And wear deceit around as robes that we can hide in
Hang your halo where you know you'll find it

Lynx had never been the type who needed company. Even when he was mortal, even when he was good and faithful and devout he'd been happy enough to keep to himself. Back then it had simply been Only Child instincts. Now it was more a case of Lynx not trusting anyone, and preffering to strut around and be the sole center of attention. People had let him down (he'd had his revenge, certainly, but the damage was done). Still, Lynx's morals were hardly carved in stone, and he was more than willing to socialise when it suited him.
And an expedition to the Funfair? (An 'Angel' one no less! - there was something about being sacreligious that always cheered Lynx greatly.) With a wide smile the Demon had torn his dark eyes from a lost looking soul that was walking with the kind of uncertainty that the newly dead often had and happily joined forces. Lynx was happy to wander into any territory, but one demon by themself didn't always stand much chance. Half a dozen assorted murders, rapists and drug dealers certainly cut more of a path.

Lynx leant on a railing, alone now (his companions had last been seen disappearing into a House of Horrors type ride) watching passers by with a vague kind of interest, the kind that made the back of your neck prickle, spirals of smoke swirling into the air around him. He plucked the lit cigarette from his lips with the kind of smooth movement that said he'd had plenty of practice. With knee high black boots zipped over skintight black jeans, and a half open shirt the same shade of cherry red as a shock of his hair, Lynx would have looked more at home on a street corner. It was his usual style - no one did Undead Rent Boy like Lynx - one that usually drew him the attention he craved so constantly, and even here amonst the bright lights and blaring music and hustle and bustle of the Funfair, Lynx was privately thrilled to see the usual sly and wary glances shot his way.

[The Saint]

Dorian gazed out of the window of his large office in the Dulcie castle. It had been so long since he had ventured out of this safe environment to mingle with the souls and enjoy the nightlife that the island had to offer. It was so strange, he thought as he leant on a slender elbow, that he was so wary of this world yet he couldn't be hurt by it and he was ruler over it. Well, not so much ruler but passive boss-type character.. He shrugged turning away and shaking his dirty blonde curls away from his eyes absently. Over two hundred years old and trapped inside this 22-year-old body. The face of an Angel but the wrong face. The wrong man died.
Dorian wasn't bitter over it any more, he had long since come to terms with his brother's violent and illegal tendancies and the fact that if he hadn't have been dealt with by another gang the police would've hung him. It was just a shame that they shot the wrong twin and the innocent one had died. But all to Hell, Casimir had died not two years later, the victim of a murderous mugging and his Sins had dragged him to Hell. It had been a rather traumatising series of events for Dorian at the time, a young Lost soul all bewildered and what-not so he had vowed to remain in Limbo and help all others. Only thing was, he wasn't allowed to interfere. He had to remain a neutral character. That was why he stayed all stuffed up like a bird in its cage in this damned castle.

"Well bugger it," he said to himself tossing the books aside and to the floor, "I want out." He removed the usual, crisp white shirt from his torso and tossed it to the floor of his bedroom; adjoined to the office and grabbed a black vest top from the chest of drawers. Adorning his neckline were numerous amulets and chains each with a different meaning, a few were keys kept with Dorian at all times. Keys to secret and sacred places. The cold couldn't hurt him now so he didn't bother with a jacket. His grey, grubby jeans were suitable for the kind of adventures he sought this evening. Dorian didn't wear shoes. The only thing in his afterlife that had hurt was the burns. A band of wayward Demons had caught hold of him in his first few weeks of Death and tortured him with hot coals by means of a threat to join Hell "or else". It hadn't worked but the Devil's Fire burns forever. The pain was bearable bare foot on cold marble.

The Demons couldn't hurt him now.
The night air was fresh and light, like everything in Senzanaea. The first place Dorian headed for was the funfair to meet and greet and talk to anyone who was in need of a shoulder to lean on/cry on. Dorian liked to listen more than he liked to talk; made his job somewhat of a pass-time.
The funfair was brimming and bubbling with excited voices and screams and laughter. Dorian loved it and a smile spread across his face warm and forgiving.
A few passers-by recognised his face from their initiations and looked a cross between fearful and curious. He greeted everyone with a nod and paused to ask a few he could tell were new if they were okay and had small pockets of conversation with some. It was nice to get out what had he been afraid of?

Dorian's eyes travelled over to the gentleman, an outsider, leaning against a fence away from everyone else. A Demon; it was obvious. But Dorian couldn't intervene unless a Soul was to be harmed. Demons were not allowed to physically hurt the "inmates" of the island. Dulcie were around to protect the Souls from others, escaping and themselves. There were no Dulcie when Dorian was burnt. All the more reason to fight now.
Unable to resist a petty squabble he wandered over looking the Demon up and down. He didn't recognise him but this world was just as large as a fair sized continent so how would he recognise even half the current population?
"Good evening Squire."

[Lynx Cassidy]

Lynx had watched with unreadable black eyes as Dorian approached - the cigarette poised in his fingers now half ash from where he'd lost interest in it and simply let it burn. Lynx hadn't been a smoker in life (lucky, really - he'd not want to have wrinkles or a smoker's cough for all eternity), he'd only taken it up after he realised that he literally had all of eternity, and seeing as he was damned to hell anyway, why not? It wasn't like he had to worry about getting sick from it and dying.... Anyway, devils and fire and burning? Lynx had always been a sucker for a cliche - if he followed something, he went hook line and sinker. He'd taken to being a Demon like a duck to water - you could do whatever you wanted - Heaven had offered freedom from Sin. Hell offered freedom from just about every other thought or impulse that Lynx could ever have imagined.

"Evening, M'lord" He replied, inclinging his head in mock humility, though the tone of his voice said he was amused more than anything else. Squire? What century were they in again?
Lynx recognised him vaguely - not a demon, not newly dead... Probably a Dulcie of a Jana. They were always popping up trying to ruin Lynx's fun - which, if anything, only made it more fun. There was always more of a thrill when you might get caught and chased out with a scolding.
Naughty Demon.

"What, may I ask, brings you to this dark corner?" He asked with a blank faced coyness that really would have done any hooker proud. Finally dropping the cigarette onto the well-trodden grass (it was nothing than a cylinder of ash now - Lynx had let it burn right down). He stepped on it delicately, crushing what was left with a swift twist of his toes. "Cigarette?" He offered, pulling the packet from his pocket politely.
Heh, and who said Demons couldn't play nicely?..

[The Saint]

Dorian had hooked his thumbs into his pockets gently and stood, as usual, shoulders slightly slouched. Even in life Dorian hadn't been able to stand up straight for long periods of time. In his era he had been taller than average and combatted the stares by making himself small. Now he was in charge he wanted to be even smaller - but no-one dared argue with God. Maybe he'd be given slavation for serving a century and be allowed in heaven. There was hope. It was a rumour. the last Duclie leader had moved onto the next plain after appointing his "Saint". Dorian smiled to himself at the thought, his eyes still upon Lynx.

"Nothing like respect from a Demon," Dorian replied noting the irony of Lynx's speech but choosing not to comment on it. Dorian was far above petty squabbles whilst Demons lived for them. "You crawling in the shrubbery doing Lucifer's bidding?" Dorian had met Lucifer. It was customary for the overseer of the Isla to discuss terms, a form of contract, before their 100 years serving for God. The contract covered Demon power, influence and interference. Dorian had been asked by the Devil himself to use first names only. Dorian was Dorian and Lucifer was Lucifer. If it weren't for the circumstances and the deceit Dorian might have even formed a friendship. Shocking.

"I'm doing the rounds," replied Dorian quietly, "just checking what's going on and who's doing what." He smiled again, "remember Demons aren't allowed to physically harm Souls." His feet burned as he spoke those words, "it's a breech of contract and even Lucifer will have stern words for you..."

[Lynx Cassidy]

Lynx decided to take that as a 'no' on the cigarettes and tucked them back in a pocket with a half-hearted shrug to himself, not really caring. It had only been a mischevious gesture, really, rather than a polite one. Some people were unsettled by the butter-wouldn't melt charm (for the few minutes it ever lasted) and it always made Lynx smile to see them fluster in uncertainty at something.
Stupid virtuous git, ruining all his fun.. Still, there was time yet.
There was always time - eternity, in fact.

"I don't 'crawl' for anyone." He said bluntly, all traces of the pretended politeness gone. It might have had something to do with Lynx not getting his own way.
And the fact that Dorian was treating him like they were on equal terms. Lynx preffered to have control, or at least be treated with some caution, like he might snap and drag them down to Hell any second.
"I'm here of my own accord. There's so much more possibility here, so many people.." He glanced from where his eyes had wandered hungrily to the bustle of souls, face blank again but for the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips of a smile, his momentary distaste at a lack of reaction gone. He'd just have to try harder.

And there it was again - the calm warning. For some reason it was more infuriating to the Demon than raving and screaming and accusations. "I'm well aware of what Demons are allowed to do, thank you." Lynx said, the small smile having disappeared again. "And you could pick your targets more carefully - I'll have you know I've not ever harmed a soul." Well, not really. "Needn't worry your bleeding little heart over it, I'm not here to hurt anyone... I was just here to make myself some new friends" And if you believed that, you'd believe anything...

[The Saint]

"Whether you crawl or not," said Dorian calmly, "you sold what was left of your soul to Lucifer and now he owns you. It's only a matter of time and you'll be so far under his heavy thumb you'll have no choice but to crawl." Something that was all too much like a cruel smile transformed his face. But a Demon could always repent. They only had one foot in the doorway.
"God's will brought you here," Dorian was just going to be down-right annoying now, "he sees when you need help and brought you to me..." Dorian fought not to laugh right out in Lynx's face. He was a Saint of sorts sure but he still loved to joke. "Won't you come to my b-bosom?" Nah, too late Dorian's face split into a wide grin as he laughed, "you Demons just crack me up is all."

The smile faded, the laughter subsiding, "Hey ho. What do you know? I'm watching everything. You see, my darling, with the contract, Lucifer and I stay in contact and he knows what you're up to, so I know what you're up to." This was true but Dorian had no clue who was who really and left it to it's own unless it got out of hand, "so I'd watch your lies.." He smiled, it was plausible that this Demon was "innocent" but it was probable that he was not.
"My heart stopped bleeding before I even arrived here mate," he lifted his top to show Lynx the perfect round blood-red hole in his chest, "what a beaut eh?" He smiled and let the fabric cover him again, "Why don't we be friends then?"

[Lynx Cassidy]

"Are you preaching or hitting on me? Because I know which one I'd prefer, 'Squire'" Lynx chose the mature approach, obviously.
"Your wasting your breath I'm afraid. The Almighty and I fell out a long time ago." Well.. Not really. It wasn't like Lynx had ever met God. He'd been to a Catholic School though, and he'd believed everything he was told for a while, until the little bubble of 'God loves me and everyone and I'm going to save the world' was popped and he came crashing back to the real world.
The faithful fall hardest, because they have so much farther to fall.

As Dorian lifted his top, Lynx's eyebrow's shot up in surprise - rare, really, for him to make a silly mortal mistake like show suprise - Lynx prided himself on not being so easy to read - but he couldn't help it. He knew it - Monsieur Sunshine Daisies And Virtue was blatantly coming on to him.
Not that Lynx was an egotistical whore who believed people fawned over his every move...
It wasn't like he'd killed his two mortal lovers because he thought they'd be too heartbroken to continue living without him (or, even worse, the eeny weeny worry that maybe they'd get over him. In which case, Lynx reasoned, they'd deserved to die for the faithlessness, the nasty cheating ho's.)

"Friends?" Lynx repeated the word, like he was mulling it over, pretending to look into the distance and consider it, though his dark eyes shot almost suspiciously to Dorian's face for a moment. "Well... I suppose... that would be alright." And for the second time in as many minutes, Lynx was worrying seemingly maybe unthinkabley possibly out of his depth. Shocking as it was, people didn't often officially request to be friends with one of Lucifer's lot, and Lynx was almost lost for a reply. Hence that beautifully eloquent and slightly stunned response. "If you think your going to convert me, though, your onto a loser" He added, still a little suspicious. "But.. But, um.. I'm Lynx"