He grinned again. "Some more than others... yes..." he snorted. "...have many too, yes? And you think about them... just bad luck... or a story?" he licked his lips had another look at the grey. "... so.... is there a story...? Bet so... would have given another answer... if just bad luck..." he snickered.
Of course he was just guessing into the blue now, but the overall mysteries that seem to hang over this winged guy made him quite sure that those wheren't just scars everyone had...

The white's ears perked up again. "So so..." he mumbled, moved again, this time further away from the grey, before he circled in place and faced the winged stranger again. "Now i am curious... hmm I listen yes?" he grinned, sure the other one wouldn't give away any more than that...

...but again, it was worth a try.

His eyes wandered down to the scars again... they looke like... war... the first word that came to his mind. On the 'other side' on his human body, on his arm... there was a similar formed scar, and that had been the cause for it. He shuddered, shook his head. A tensed smile appeared on his face again, when his eyes wandered up to the other's.

The presumptuous behavior the white showed nearly forced a mocking smile onto the grey stag's lips. He was half-tempted to actually speak about what it was that happened, as well. What stopped him was a simple fact this Jack could never know. "You may listen to your heart's content, but you will find there is nothing to hear." His brows knitted together and he ruffled his wings, pretending to look affronted. "You act as though you are entitled to hear my story. As though you, of all the beasts, deserves it."

Fincayra ; (:

"That's unfortunate. But undeniable." The white stag had the truth of it. Of any 'beast', he would no doubt have the upper hand when it came to knowledge. Barachiel released a puff of air, and frowned. He wasn't bothered by the promise that his secret would be unraveled in time. He was simply put off by the unusual determination. What interest was there in his past? "Perhaps you will. It bears no relevance." He lipped his shoulder wound again, flaring his wings in a purposeful movement to make this Jack agitated again. He had noticed the others' discomfort whenever he shifted. When the wings tucked down again, he offered the corner of a smile.

The faint smirk gradually disappeared at the question, and a firmly displeased stare took its place. He glanced down at his pendant before giving a curt nod. The white one had it right again. If it really didn't matter, why hold the secret at all? Because. "You are as unworthy as I to hear it."

He was going to ignore the impertinent jibe about his expressing emotion, but a word in the sentence caught his attention. He balked. "I... Do not understand 'funny'. What is this?"

"You heard me." He said as he meant and he certainly meant as he said. This white stag was nothing to him but 'valuable'. Of course he- and everyone else- was unworthy. He tugged his ears forward when the other explained what he had been talking about. "Laugh..." He nodded, seeming to put two and two together. "I remember watching laughter." The observation was given its dues. "It was never my duty to laugh." He drew back to the statement before, still prying at his information. He shifted his head slightly to the side and then back again, as though shaking his head only once. "All good things in time. And, some bad."

Again his eyebrows twitched together in a moment of trying to understand, not concerned, but certainly interested. Particularly because of how sour the idea of duty made the white one. Perhaps there was a reason why. More information he would have to glean.

"There was no need for anything but duty." What use was anything else? Ah... He had strayed, he had. And see where it led him indeed. "Laughter... Has not proven useful for anything." He countered. Barachiel considered the other stag before he spoke again. "You have seen duty in bad form." He narrowed his eyes, and dared to press further, taking a step forward in the process. "Or perhaps you were the one to ruin the name of the duty you knew." His intensity was not meant critically. He was simply stating the possibilities. No doubt it would offend, as he so often had already.

The grey stag did not know enough to flinch at the abrupt intrusion of his personal space, as he had no idea what personal space even was quite yet, and so he merely blinked as teeth were gnashed only inches away. He did, however, make a face at the explosive stranger. "I am not a dog." He had taken the words at face value, and did not delve into the underlying meaning. Intelligent, yet naive. The frown was instantly wiped from his confused face when the other asked him a touchy question. For a moment he seemed genuinely worried.
"I..." The frown returned, and it was nervous. He had been cast out. Where was his duty indeed? It certainly wouldn't have followed him here, to this god-forsaken place. He cleared his throat, and glanced at his pendant. "Duty will call me when it needs be done."

Sea storm eyes were narrowed slightly at the mockery. He wasn't used to being affected by words, as those were human methods of insult and so they had never bothered him. Until now. He was beginning to see their venom. It stung him to say it, but he would not abandon his pride. "If I am bidden to make something done or undone, I will see to it." He worked his jaw before adding testily, "And I do not slobber."

With a rustle of feathers, Barachiel took a step towards the white male, this time appearing almost menacing, though his face was calm as it always was. "I did my duty to the utmost, save for one meander. And I was thrown aside for it." He paused. Clearly he hadn't intended on letting that much slide. He pretended to ignore the slip. "Whatever the case, I am no dog. At least, not one to be trifled with."

The burn-scarred stag felt inexplicably silenced when the white reinforced his earlier statement. He was a dog. His mouth was a flatline of displeasure, but Barachiel did not open it to offer a rude retort. Sea storm eyes glanced wearily down to his rose pendant at its mention, before looking back up. The plumage of his wings visibly flattened, making him seem slightly less menacing.

He frowned quite notably more than he had before. Not quite genuine, but no longer a facade. "Happiness does not provide service. It was for happiness that I..." He shifted at long last, moving his mouth to rub at the shoulder wound again. "That duty forsook me." He glowered at his scarred up chest before looking right back at this Jack. "Too bad for you this 'dog' knows you to be a coward. Duty scares you clearly enough, that you are so bitter of its existence."

Still as dispassionately naive as ever, Barachiel had no intuition as to how his harsh words would be taken, despite having seen the result several times. Thus when the white bounded forwards and attempted to gouge a hoof into his face, he had moved only slightly enough for it to miss his eye, instead scraping from his chin and down the side of his neck. A pained hiss escaped the ex-archangel as he recoiled. The yelling became a jumble of nonsense to the fallen seraph, though he pinned his ears back at the torrent of curses.

He stepped back again, partly nursing his new injury and partly dumbstruck by the fury of this stranger. His eyes remained half-lidded, though their sea storm irises sparked with something like anger. His body didn't show any of this, though. Withdrawn and injured, pressing tight lips to the wound, but still not hostile.

Barachiel considered the words the white had spat. He eyed those growing tines warily. "Gain cannot be made without loss. Mankind was built to lose. And when they did, I would shepherd their souls." Despite the calm certainty he always had in his voice, the grey stag seemed very disquieted about what the white had said. "War was... Created by my kind. And man learned from us." And then, his eyebrows fell with a glare. "A pity it was all man knew how to do, afterwards. Your failed duty is your own fault."

I'm in EST (:

Barachiel gradually became hard as stone in both expression and stance. The winged stag allowed his wounds to ache and bleed, as he decided he would tend to them later. This white one had it coming for him, and he'd best keep an eye on that. The persistence of the attacks was disturbing the burned stag, though he made a point of not showing this.

At the charge, he shifted as much out of the way as he could, still allowing yet another score of lines to be carved into his side as the white passed by, raising a wing out of harm's way. His breath was taken in another growl, but he did not return the animosity.

Instead, the burned stag turned around with some difficulty to peer at the enraged male again. "Wrath is a sin. Calm yourself." He sounded anything but interested, though a vague note of irritation still managed to spell its way into his voice. "I spoke truth. You cannot abhor me for being right."

Yes I come on during random times, but mostly during the afternoon where I am.


In the time it took Jack to regain his balance, Barachiel lowered his lips back to the graze of his wound, still not daring to resort to licking, but instead nibbled. Tasting and trying to understand. His eyes were drawn back to the enraged stranger as he continued his tangent. The grey stag clearly misinterpreted his rhetorical fury, as he offered an insensitive response. "Fortunately I never had to focus on you. I had other duties."

When the white gnawed into his own leg again, Barachiel grimaced, and took a step forwards. Blood had turned his shoulder and chest red at this point, from running its path down his matted, burned fur. He seemed unaware except for the wincing. He opened his mouth, prepared to rally some more words with this male, when he was shot in the heart by the white's own.

The stone-face evaporated into a set jaw, and eyes that widened, revealed emotion. The burn-scarred stag retreated a few steps, and shook his head slowly. You don't deserve your wings! Those words had been spoken before, but not by the white. They had struck home. First when he had been cast down, and now here, where a mortal was damning him too. The grey stag's eyes shifted to the ground, where his blood was slowly making its way. He ignored his white rose pendant. There was no comfort in it.

For once, Barachiel had no hint of speech on his tongue.

The grey male's eyes were still downcast while the white stag began to laugh. The ex-archangel would never have guessed this conversation would have taken the turn it did. Both had bitten wounds into each other- some physical, others not so much. It was when the white began to confess that he had prayed to them that the burnt stag looked back up. His face had grown as dispassionate as it could after taking such an insult that he did, though it still showed some form of melancholy.

He kept his counsel until the white fell, clearly exhausted. The grey found it rather ironic that though he was the one with the bleeding, open wounds, the other male was the one to collapse from it all.

He held the other's gaze with a steadfast blank stare, until his sea-storm eyes grew slightly sad. "I do not know why my brothers... Did not heed your prayers." He looked to his pendant, and then quickly away again. It felt wrong to look at it now. "But I know why I did not." Though his voice was as flat as ever, he spoke genuinely. Honest. "I was..." No. He would not say. "Distracted."