The memory of their conversation, just before, was quick to stir in his mind. ‘If any harm comes to you from now on, it will be from me.’ Was he planning such, then? To take Kirin next, after he got the freedom he wanted? No, another part of him rationalized. That didn’t make any sense. Before, had he not chastised Kirin for such paranoia without justice? How easily Angeles could do away with him, he soberly considered. He imagined it would take no more effort than flicking a fly, if this display were to go by. And he did not. Even now, as he strode towards the smaller male, his expression did not seem to hold malice.

     “Yes,” the ebony haired noble finally found that voice. He swallowed hard, blinking the panic from his face as he studied the demon approaching him. “Is it going to be?” It hurt to ask - his stomach and chest constricted, forcing out the breath from his lungs, a crushing anxiety crippling him as he dreaded the answer.

     “Don’t be foolish. You are much too delectable to waste.” That wasn’t a no, Kirin considered bitterly, though it was enough of a reassurance that when the taller man curled his arms around him, thick though they may be with another’s blood, he did not retreat. With a shocking degree of care, the devil that had just murdered two of the immortal kin cradled the smaller form of Kirin like some delicate babe, hefting him up out of the coffin. The trembling seemed to abate then, the warmth of his companion soothing his stressed frame, but there was still a lingering knot of fear within his throat that kept him from asking anything else. “It seems that our departure from this place has been expedited.”

     For a fully grown man, even if he were smaller than his companion, few would find any pleasure in being made the dependent. Whatever comfort strong arms holding him may provide, there was a prideful, stubborn part of him that found it quite intolerable, and thus he was rather relieved to be set down. Allowing him time to find his legs beneath him, and even going so far as to linger as a brace when the sudden weight of his body, the gravity pulling him ever downwards, caused a sharp pain in his hips, Angeles gave him the necessary time to acquire his balance before retreating.

     There was too much, too quickly - a recent trend in a life that had been plunged into isolation. One would think that such a fact would make one more absorbent of changes in the environment, but this was such a stark contrast from the normal, in a mind so resigned to only so much variance, it was too much to take in and truly contemplate all at once. But, Kirin was hardly the sort of individual to act first and think later, under most circumstances. That was careless, and he prided himself on many things - being cautious among them. So, he coped with this bombardment the only way he knew how.

     Strategically.

     Firstly, he needed clothes. If they were leaving, he wouldn’t very well be prancing around the court naked. The thought of striding out of prison in his tattered dregs was only a very small step above nudity, but it was a step. Briefly, he considered stealing clothes from one of the corpses, though this was a step too low for such a noble creature to consider. Plus, they would be ill fitted. Best to simply work with what he had for the past.... However long it had been. He’d have to discover that when he got out.

     Dressing was a painful attire, and one which Angeles did not move to help with. He had shifted focus over to the alcove which would serve as their escape, and though Kirin could not identify what, precisely, he was intent on, it certainly absorbed the entirety of his attention. This was a blessing, the youth thought, as it allowed him time to process and consider, to dress without embarrassment, but also forced him to struggle through the stiffness and aches of his body. As flashes of their exchange flooded his mind, he was doubly thankful for the lack of his companion in this moment.

     Secondly, dressed as acceptable as he was going to be, he considered the corpses. Such violence had come very naturally to the mysterious partner in crime, and that left the ebony haired immortal even more unsure of where he stood with the brutish devil. The highest crime that could be committed was killing an immortal, since they were - well - intended to be immortal. Their bodies did not deteriorate as mortal flesh with age, and they were immune to nearly all illness and ailment, injuries healing easily and aging slowly. Humans served them, in large part, because they maintained such a godlike image and governed with fairness in these modern times.

     Yet, while the death of his kin was unsettling, there was also some relief in the sight. If Angeles could dispatch of these creatures so easily, then he could certainly help ensure Kirin’s safety, couldn’t he? Perhaps help him return home, where he could be reunited with whatever was left of his family. He didn’t need to fear his crimson haired partner so long as they remained companionable - the most powerful of allies should be held close, to prevent them from becoming enemies.

     This analysis allowed him to settle the churning of his stomach, to release some of his anxiety, and turn his attention back on the fascinating man in question.

     Angeles was looking up the shaft, his back to the shorter male, speaking in a quiet voice that Kirin did not imagine was directed at him. When he approached, the words stopped and the ancient occupant of this forgotten place turned, a grin curling the edges of his lips in a shockingly youthful expression - it was dazzling in its own right, and made Kirin believe, for an instant, that this creature might be no different from himself after all. The instant passed, however, as that handsome man reached forward and touched the rungs along the wall.

     A vibrant blue light flashed, the stone illuminating with the sudden appearance of large runes that the young immortal could not begin to contemplate - but the stimulation of them caused all the azure lights to suddenly burn bright and harsh. Dazed, Kirin did not see the arm that lashed out to encircle his waist, drawing him up against the red haired man, holding him in place while Angeles pressed further and said something in a low, dark voice - a word which Kirin could not understand, nor repeat if he tried. Like the wind, it was a sound that whistled in one ear and out the other, a mirage that he couldn’t catch.

     There was a deafening crack.

     The lights were snuffed out, and the raven headed male was suddenly once again in the arms of his companion, and moving - a jump? A climb? He couldn’t see, but felt his weight press down with elevation, and then light was flooding the room - his old cell. The door was open, though the chamber empty, casting a horrifying illumination on the disgust which he had been force to endure for far too long. The reality of the situation hit him with a euphoria so extreme, it left him woozy. He found himself clinging onto the broad expanse of chest he was still held against, seeking something solid as his head tried to stop spinning.

     Footsteps could be heard in the distance, somewhere in the hall beyond this grisly cell. A sigh escaped his partner, and Kirin was unsure whether it was of disappointment or satisfaction. Either way, the man once more lowered him down to the floor, taking a moment to ensure he was steady before turning towards the entrance. When he spoke this time, Kirin was sure that there was amusement in those lilting words, “Such an invigorating affair. Won’t you watch and be in awe?” Golden eyes glowing with a sinister intent looked at the smaller immortal with a twisted delight, one which made Kirin shiver with a contorted mix of unease and arousal, finding himself strange for the thought as Angeles turned his attention to the door just in time.

     Three more guards appeared, their silhouette blocking the light from entering the area. Surprised by what they saw - for who would not be, when faced with something like Angeles, gorgeous and blood covered as he was - the trio immediately all went for their weapons. Two swords and a pistol appeared, but no sooner had Kirin time to assess the possible danger than his monstrous companion was upon them. This was swifter, more brutal than the first two, and there was an expression upon his features that chilled the young immortal to the core - a look of almost glee, as claws shred into what should be marble flesh, punctured through a throat, claimed a lost sword to severe a head.

     The blood was beautiful, nauseating, and horrifying all at once. He’d not had time to be concerned before it was over, no longer than the span of a few breathes, the guards hardly understanding the situation before the life was gone from their corpses. Sanguine liquid bathed the demon before him from head to foot, his clothing soaked through and clinging to his musculature in sadistic allure. Angeles stood there for several moments, a sword still clutched in his hand, breathing deeply of the new aroma of carnage as it filled the small, grotesque prison. Then, turning amber orbs towards his avid onlooker, he held out his hand, bloodied and all, in invitation.

     Not for the first time, the realization that his actions, that finding the chamber down into the depths, giving himself so willingly to the strange enchanter he had met there, all might one day be something he would regret. That by doing so, he may have revived a monster that should have lay dormant and forgotten, unable to escape his prison and terrify the immortals above. His conscience may one day convince him to feel a deep and great regret for all that had transpired, and perhaps for what was about to, to feel remorse for whatever lives had already been lost because of it.

     But not today.

     Today, all that mattered was that this glorious monster, however horrifying and terrible, was holding out his hand to Kirin. He was making a path for them both out of the dreadful place, this place that had caused the boy to fall so low, to crumble to new shame and loathing. At least for now, this was his monster, Kirin thought - and if he needed to walk through hell, it was best to walk by the devil’s side.

     He moved forward, willing his steps to be sound beyond his discomfort, and took that proffered hand. The blood squished between flesh as his alabaster digits intertwined with the slender, cruel fingers of his companion, and he knew that his own hands would be stained red. It did not matter. When Angeles set off down the hall, there was no longer a feeling of nervous anxiety. Though he was sure there would come another time for fear of this man, now was not it. They could leave together, and no one would harm Kirin.

     Today, he would follow Angeles no matter what lay on the road ahead.