The demon of chaos from the relm of chaos had sepnt two hours inside a hot and overly incented shop individually measuing out each sixty-five candles to equal six inhes which now stood in a tight circle in the center of the floor, the sixty-sixth, which Verkur sat directly in front of was nine inches. Also in front of the white-eyed demon was two viles and a wooden bowl.

The demon removed the caps to the vile and poured them togather into the bowl. One the blood of an enemy, fresh and red from the body of Glenn from the bookstore, and the blood of an innocent, a shadow called Acid, this blood was blue-black and they mixed togather in a purplish color. Then he proceeded to cut the palm of his own hand, silvery white blood ozzing from the wound and dribbled a fair share into the bowl, suked on the wound, and mixed the combination. Then he poured the combination in a complete circle inside the candles, being sure the circle closed.

Verkur was angry and mingled with other emotions. He worshiped the man...the god of War as he would worship his own god if he existed. He felt betrayed. He wanted to yell and kill. But he couldn't kill any longer...yelling would help. And so he chanted "I bear not malice, but call forth the one who walks with it!" with more confidance then was needed and an angry tone to accompany it. Repeating the words 6 times, he waited. He sat on the floor, his strong chest and shoulders visable because he wore a button up shirt that remained unbuttoned as well as black pants. He wore no shoes and his leathery wings that so fasinated the gods and the few other who knew they exsisted were relaxed on his back and his long black hair was loose from its ponytail.


(Reserved for Tao!)

For a moment there was not a stir. Not a ripple in the frameworks of magic. But then a sound like rushing wind and then a breeze full of heet eminated from the circle of candles. The flames flared a bit and then there he was. His entrance had been quite unremarkable, besides the heat and the candles. He was lying down on his back, his hands beneath his head, one knee bent. He was watching the sky with those blood eyes of his. War was watching tonight.

Violence was wearing his usually peculiar boots, which had more silver buckles on them than was useful. His svelte but slim frame was covered in cothing of denim or dark bloodred. The shirt over his tanned chest was tight and sleeveless, even though the weather was still a bit chilled. He was wearing pants of old beat up black denim, with rips at the knees. He looked more youthful in his clothing choice, this day. His hair was kept in it's usual messy array of pitch black, and he had a pinch beneath his lower lip. In the end, the god looked quite irresistable. Well, it rally depended on whoever was doing the resisting in the first place...

"My, my....This better be good....I was in the middle of something," His scratchy deep voice spoke slowly and articulated each word carefully, as if speaking to a rather naughty child. Eventually he sat up and faced Verkur, crossing his legs beneath him. His eyes roamed over the demon's form, his eyes going once or twice back to his wings and face.

Viol pouted. "Are we angry today, Verkur?"

For a moment Verkur had pondered if perhapes he had been a bit too confident, or a bit too careful in the preperations for the summoning. After all, there was something such as too perfect. Then, the moment the wind had stirred within the room his confidence was restored.

In his angry, hissy fit state, Verkur's white eyes did not take in much of the God's features. But because he was a chaos creture he was not dumb enough to not observe the God at his first entrance, he forced himself to look again, carefully. Probably a little too carefully because now he did not wish to take his eyes from the God. He was, as was expected (and the demon cursed himself for not being prepared for that), very attractive and for a moment it broke his concentration.

The white of his entire eye showed nothing of his thoughts, almost as if the white hid everything beneath, but he was mingled with hesitation, temptation, and un-admitedly wounded pride. The God spoke and his eyes were drawn back to the blood eyes and he nodded stiffly.

"Yes." He replied, his voice was also raspy, scarcly a whisper or a hiss, and it was stiff. His eyes were unreadable but his voice was an open book. Frustration. It was weaved all through the tones and currently had befallen his face. "You tricked me." The words were flat. "You are not the god of trickery. You are the god of war. Why take violance from me to simply replace it with a different kind?" He spat the words without thinking them over. All the words he'd planed had slipped his mind when the god appeared.

"Because I am not the God of War...I am War. And because, as you say, I replaced one form of violence for another...There are many forms of violence, Verkur...You really should pay more attention," Viol replied casually, already seeming bored with this little discussion. Viol hadn't tricked him at all...Verkur simply failed to specify. If you fail to specify, then one must use one's own resources and creativity. Viol simply didn't see it Verkur's way.

For a moment he remained quiet, his blood eyes watching Verkur with an expression that looked like innocent puzzlement. "I'm not understanding your point of view, Verkur. You wanted a part of your code removed...You never said I couldn't have some fun..." He tilted his head to the side somewhat, the corners of his lips twitching as if he were fighting a smile. The smile won. It was one of his dazzling grins, perfect white teeth shown to the world.

Then the smile faded as quickly as it had come, and he straightened his neck and looked Verkur squarely and intensely in the eye, in an almost angry glare. "Violence is violence, Verkur...my follower...My angel of chaos..." His voice was softening slightly, decreasing in volume to a near whisper.

Verkur listened without interuption, like a child being chided for stealing a cookie, though his eyes were narrowed and glowing white light. Though he truely, in his heart of black hearts he knew that all that Viol was saying was true. Verkur had been too busy kissing ass and hurrying the 'negotiation' along and he'd foolishly overlooked those small but important details. His anger was riseing but this new anger was in himself for his carelessness.

Then that dazzleing smile, that grin of all grins, spread across Violent's face and Verkur was outraged by this perfect smile directed towards him. He spun around, wings seemed to melt into his back, and got to his feet, and walked away from the summoning circle. He shoved a pile of books off of the desk in frustration.

"Violence is violence, Verkur...my follower...My angel of chaos..."

Verkur growled, a low rumbling in the depth of his throat, almost savage. Only when all of the papers that had flown from the books had settled on the ground did he turn back around, fixing white eyes on the god within the circle. The softening of the voice somehow lowered the demons anger. He sighed and growled again, baring his white fangs at the God. Then, like an ashamed child, he nodded.

"I hate you." He muttered. "And I don't hate you." He added, he was so confused, and Verkur felt vunerable and he did not like it. "Fix my code. I want to attack mortal innocents without being harmed myself. How can I cause Chaos if I am cursed with whatever curse I place on another?" His voice was back to a conversational and worried tone and he flopped down into a chair and began to rub his temples.

Viol watched Verkur's small tantrum, his head again tilted to the side in a boyish manner. His red eyes never left the demon as the papers from the desk began flying, and eventually following him with his eyes as he sat down. Viol stretched out his legs infront of him, his boots nearing the blood that was on the inside of the circle- But not actually touching it. He leaned back on the palms of his hands.

"Well..." He began quietly, eventually standing up himself, brushing himself off needlessly. "How about you..." He continued, outstretching his hands infront of him, his palms facing verkur. He then stepped closer to the edge of the circle of candles and blood and leaned against the invisible magic wall that enclosed him with his palms. He tilted his head downwards. His eyes never left the demon. "Let me out of here..." He said softly. A human may not have been able to hear him, but no doubt Verkur would.

His palms then curled inwards in a claw-like position, as if he were trying to scratch at the spell trapping him. "Pretty please?"

Foolish as he'd been to overlook the finer details of their previous engagment, Verkur was not so impulsive to let the God out of the invisable cage in which he was trapped. For a moment, Verkur wondered what would happen if he never released the Gosd by neaither completeing the summon to cast him away or by breaking the circle. Would that mean that Viol had to stay cooped into that invisable cage forever? Verkur's lips twitched slowly into a smile at the thought of a pet god.

Indeed, no human would have heared those words but Verkur's pointed ears with hearing like a bat, had picked up the words. His clawed fingers ceased their rubbing of his temples and he hoisted himself out of the wing-backed chair and onto his bare feet. His wings unfolded slightly as he approached the edge of the circle from the outside and lifted one hand, white eyes glowing with amusment. He pressed his hand aginst Viol's from the other side of the invisable wall.

"Let you out." He repeated slowly, as if turning the idea over in his mind. Then he shook his head. "And let you add some other twist into my Code for your own sick entertainment? No." He lifted his chin, now looking extremyl regal, bare chested and footed as he was, his posture looked a lot like an aristocrat. It was rather hard to not unleash the god. It was difficult not to give into the temptation to release his secondary god (as his no longer existed), the one who called him 'my angel of chaos.' "I can't."

Viol's expression didn't change as Verkur came close to him, pressing his hand nearly against his own. Then slowly he tilted his head back up to meet the demon's bright white eyes with a neutral stare. "Verkur, my love, if you do not let me out, I cannot reverse your code from it's present state...Do you want to exist in misery?" He said in an infinitely gentle voice, and despite his deep and scratchy tone, it was still rather pleasing to hear.

"After all...I never said no, now did I?" He traced down the length of Verkur's palm with his index finger, not actually touching the demon due to the wall. Yet intense heat eminated from the god's form, as always, and it did so now.

Verkur, my love, if you do not let me out, I cannot reverse your code from it's present state

He had tried to ignor that, he didnt want to let Viol out of the summoning circle, he wanted to punish the God, hurt Viol for hurting him. But, alas the damned code did not allow him to cause harm or death in any way or form to the gods. But nothing says he can't keep a God for a pet in his own summoning spell for a week or so. And how Violent had said this last made him asume that there was no other way for the god to escape without being released in one way or form. There was a suitable punishment.

Do you want to exist in misery

And that destroyed the whole notion. True, Verkur lived his life tormenting people. He growled and his white eyes glinted at the red eyes, leathery wings stiffened on his back.

"I should keep you...as a little monster pet, aged up like that." He spat. If he can't keep him in a cage and he can't cause him harm then he may as well (even though he doubted words hurt Viol) snarl out rude coments. "Fine." His hand slid down the wall away from Viol's fingers, and he tipped over the nine inch candle, the flame smutting out as he did so. Then, unsure if this mattered or not, he slide his finger through the blood on the floor to break that circle as well. Then he stepped back and leaned on the desk, white eyes alert.

Viol smiled softly as he watched Verkur's hand slide down and tip over the candle, and then in turn break the circle of blood. Casually he stepped over the candles which were still lit around the outside of the circle, and immediately the flames were snuffed out as he took a few steps towards the demon infront of him. He stood there, his slim frame standing tall. Eventually he crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at Verkur.

"Tell me exactly what you want..." He said in a whisper, stepping closer, definitely invading the space that polite decorum had made. He tilted his head to the side. "I'll see what I can do..."

The candles all snuffed at once, filling the small but comfortable room with the scent of smoke. The God is in front of him, and just as the day he had encountered Viol, oddly he did not feel uncomfortable nor lowly, but rather as if he were groveling to his own lord....Perhapes he was.

A step closer to him, in his personal space and Verkur thought nothing of it. After all, the old magic must be done through that burning kiss. His eyes showed nothing around the whitness but his features spoke for him. He was still a bit wry of the God now. "You'll see what you can do?" He sneered back. He shook his head and his finger stopped circling his temple as he glared up into the blood eyes. "No." He said this more sternly then he'd meant. After all, you do not comand a god. It was not his place. "You will do what you can. Your a God. I know you have the power Almighty Divinety." The last was a bit sarcastic but held a slight of respect hidden in the tones. "I want to harm the innocent, cause haos and disruption in their life, I want to be free of this blasted pain the innocence gives me. I want them as they were before, unable to harm me." He stood up, causeing the personal space to minimize further, then stepped back to equal it again. "Will you" not could you or can you, "fix my damned code, Divinity?" He asked more calmly. Well...if that hadn't been one of his most childish tantrums.

((Blah. Sorry that was a bit crappy))

(( Bah not crappy! ))

"Fix your code..." The arms crossed over his chest fell back to his sides, as he watched Verkur with what seemed like genuine amusement dancing in those red eyes. "You want to make your chaos?..." He asked in a bare and hoarse whisper, stepping close. He then tilted his head slightly to the side, leaning forward, his lips were milimeters from Verkur's as he spoke his next words. "Chaos is dead..." He said, that same intense heat flooding off of his form. Then without warning his right hand reached up and grabbed Verkur's jaw tightly. He then placed his lips on the demon's his own infinite power seeping through in the same strattling sensation the demon had gone through the first time. There it was, yet again...The intricate web of the demon's restrictions. And there, amongst the pulses of magic, the god of war changed Verkur's code to allow him to kill innocents.

"Chaos is dead..."

He was curious as to what Viol had meant by these words, and his lips parted to ask but shut once more with the strong hands on his own jaws. Lips on his and that intense heat came. It burned, and the white eyes squeezed shut, at his side, the demon was clenching his fists, claws digging through the leather gloves and into his skin, drawing little drops of blood. His head pounded with the heat on his lips, wings had gone stiff all over again.

Verkur admited to himself the pain had been worse the first time his code was influanced by this God of violance and War, since that time he had not expected old magic, this time he'd been ready for it. He opened his eyes to look at the God, so close to his face.

Viol drew back slowly, but not away. His hand left the demon's jaw slowly and ran down the length of his chest in an almost offhand manner. "Happy?" He asked simply with a smug look in his eyes. He was already distracted from the answer as he looked up at the leathery wings. His hands came up slowly and ran along the tops of the wings. He finally leaned in towards the demon's ear, his lips still hot from their lock. "Thank your God..." He said gently but with heavy suggestion. One could almost hear the grin in his words as he placed a hot dry kiss on Verkur's cheek.

Verkur's bare hest was nearly flawless except for the scar he'd reeived previously from a mortal innocent. Was he happy? Well, the demon had a smug thought of his own. "I'll be happy when I know you've done it right." He replied, though the sentance was suposed to be stern it did not come out as such but rather as releife. "No tricks this time?" He asked. Viol hadn't pulled away and Verkur ould feel his breath, his own lips still burning from the powerful kiss. He licked his lips, moisture should help cool. Fingers on his wings and he closed his eyes, the leathery wings were smooth and even cool to touch. A dry kiss planted on his cheek and Verkur turned his face to press his own lips to the gods cheek in the same manner. His kiss was more moist from licking his lips then was the gods dry kiss.

"Thank my god." He murmured, then tipped his head, bowing it without stepping back which made his forhead touch Viol's shoulder then come back up, his lips next to the God's ear. "I do thank you...my god." his clawed hand lays flat over the God's hand aginst his chest and his white eyes on the God's blood eyes. Verkur leans up and Kisses the god once again, but unlike Viol, the demon does not possess the hot, powerful kiss, and his was one of respect and thanks and possibly more. He was not afrade the God would strike him down for this. Hadn't he suggested this?...Would this kiss reverse his Code all over again? That last thought paniced the demon slightly and his heart jumped slightly, he pleaded silentlty.

Viol pouted slightly at demon's first responding words. He would only be happy when he knew it was done correctly? Had he not trusted the God when he had said that if he specified there should be no problems? Viol shook his head softly in answer to Verkur's second question of whether or not there were any tricks. Viol received the demon's kiss evenly, his eyes not closing this time.

"Shh...Trust this," he said in the silence after the kiss. Had he been reading the demon's thoughts? Well, it was probable. His blood red eyes stared intently in to those of the demon's white ones. His stare was quite strong, and his eyes didn't flicker from one to the other...They stayed still...The hand on Verkur's chest moved up slowly to the back of the demon's neck. He leaned down and licked the side Verkur's neck. At first it was nothing, but soon there would probably be a sensation of intense burning heat...Then his symbol would appear...Viol smiled softly as he waited for this process to ensue.

That eeir idea that perhapes the God had been reading his thoughts and the fat that this was entirly possible and more then likely probable nagged in Verkurs mind. But then, perhapes it was his body language that the God had read. At any rate, the god had told him to trust, and Verkur could not help but trust. He almost reminded himself of when he would minipulte Acid into sleepieness and make the shadow trust him. Verkur barely supressed a groan at the thought of himself being treated the way he treated other lower creatures, but it was supressed.

The tongue on his neck was tastful, and then accompanied by a hot burning sensation, as had his lips the first and second time Viol had given him the kiss. His eyes widened and he fixed them on the God. Was this another form of Old-world magic? Was the god adding to his code? Then a seiring pain on his neck and a clawed hand reahed upward to cover the area as if this would cease the pain, his other hand reaching up and resting on the arm that was leading to the hand on the back of his neck. "What is this Divinity?" He asked, possibly more respect then meant for.

"It's a mark..." Viol answered casually, "My mark, to be specific." His tell-tale grin reappeared in full bloom, obviously he was very happy that he had just branded a follower of his. Well, perhaps 'branding' was too strong a word...Yet, it seems only fitting. If any other powerful demons came up against Verkur at some point or another, and they saw War's mark...Well, they might think twice. Either that or he would get a flood-in of summonings. He really didn't enjoy being summoned all that much...Being caged in...He made a mental note to curse the memory of the one who was able to find out how to summon him.

Roughly he brought the demon closer to himself, the hand behind his neck pulling quite abruptly. "Don't worry...It changes nothing." Does it?

"Your mark." He repeated, his white eyes moving between the two blood eyes, intaking this information. The demon was not certin yet if he wanted the mark of the god of war on him. It was still tingling with the warmth that had been applied but the heat was gone now and so was that sharp stab of pain. Then his thoughts caught another train...perhapes he should put a mark on Acid and Emrys...can you put a mark on a shadow?

Then he was pulled, rather abruptly by the hand on the back of his neck, closer to his God and assured that the lick aginst his skin, the mark branded onto him, would not change anything. He kept his eyes on Viol's, this suprised him now that he thought about it, since he made a point in the 'kiss-ass role' to never look a god in the eye. It was "isrespectful". His gaze however, did not waver from Viol's...maybe because unlike the other Gods, he worshipped this one, Followed this one, and maybe even respected this one.

Viol's perfect grin made the demon long for another kiss, should he be thinking of such about his god? Brushing the thought away, "Then what is it's purpose?" He asked, "does it bind me to you?"

The hand on the back of the demon's neck began squeezing gently. It was almost a warning gesture, or a simple gesture to make sure the demon knew who was in charge. Viol always like to make certain people, or demons in this case, understood the fundamentals of his superiority. He was an arrogant god, as they all are.

"It has no purpose, really..." He said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. His red eyes were now looking upwards towards the ceiling, as if suddenly distracted by something there. "Except to help me keep track..." He finally finished, the corners of his lips twitching slightly again as if trying to suppress another characteristic grin. It was almost as if he wanted to laugh, or frown, or smirk. This all might be true, but one had to wonder why He may be trying to supress these little marks of expression. Well it was one mystery over a dark blanket of enigmas.

Verkur felt the hand and took up on it's meaning and he supressed his own urge to swat the hand away as he would any other...if any other could even be so bold to touch him. But this was a different situation. And he felt his mind wander again. Maybe if he put this mark on his shadow and seer they would obey more. Hmmm.

He also had to surpress the urge to turn his own white eyes towards the ceiling and inspect whatever it was that might have caught the God's eyes and distracted him. To keep track of him? What?! He felt like growling in frustration. This was his only real problem with talking to Viol, he was never precise enough, but the demon had enough self-restraint to tutor his patients and not show his impatiants on his features, though the GOd may be able to just sense this from the tensness in the leather wings. Hmmm, wonder if Viol can hear him. Then he's listening to all of this. Fuck.

"Keep track of me?" He asked finally. Then looked as innocent as a demon of chaos, a creature created to ruin lives and destory homes could possibly look. "Do you not think I would come willingly if you called me?" Maybe he wouldn't...maybe he would, if the time suited him.

Viol sighed as if the lesson he had been trying to teach a young child was simply not going through. He rolled his eyes slightly heavenward. "Oh dear Verkur...It's nothing like that," then his usual triumphant grin returned, showing he knew more than what Verkur had just said. "It's a way for me to keep track...But not to keep track of just you. I don't know if you'll ever be able to fully understand, but I'll put it in lament's terms..." He let the hand on the back of the demon's neck slide of, and his whole manner seemed to change somewhat to casual frustration. He didn't feel like talking right now...

"I mark those who have been with me." He finally said with a theatric shrug of his shoulders. He finally crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side, curiosity in his red eyes. "And if I called you...I'm sure you would come," he said with a healthy dose of arrogance to accompany the words. He uncrossed his arms and with the index finger on his right hand trailed down the front of Verkur's neck in gentle but offhand way.

The wqay Viol had put it, lament's terms, seemed to slightly offend the demon, though there wasn't much he could do about it, and so he resonably shrugged it off. The hand slid from his neck and although his long hair lay aginst it, his neck felt cool without the warmth of the hand.

Arogance, it seemed to Verkur, was this gods only flaw, because that last remark was saturated in it. And Verkur fed off of it. He nodded his head as the God uncrossed his arms. "Of course I would come, master." Toss in a word that may keep that arrogance up, after all, Verkur was a natural kiss ass. The finger ran on his neck and he lifted his chin slightly. This little guesture seemd to make the demon appear more regal, if at all possible.

Verkur decided on being bold. It was never a sure trait in a characteristic but it seemed, or so he thought, that Viol favored arrogance, self-pride, and boldness. He tipped his head up and stepped closer, pressing his thin chest aginst the god's and kissed his chin. No, not the lips, that was just a little too bold, at least on the first attempt. His white eyes remained on the God's red eyes, waiting the reaction.

Viol didn't have flaws. He had strengths...and more strengths. Arrogance was a human trait, and the gods often took on because it was familiar. He watched as the demon stepped closer and felt the demon's lips on his warm skin. Gently he wrapped one powerful arm around the demon's waist, below his magnificient leathery wings. The other hand went up his chest and linger, for a moment, over his very own symbol. Hm. Perfect. His hand travelled through Verkur's dark hair, making a fist of it, but not pulling on it. He seemed to be relishing the very texture, the very reality of his hair. Viol's hair would probably feel much the same...But it wasn't made of the same matter.

Viol took the demon's lips in his own, biting down hard on the demon's lower lip. Carnage.

The white eyes had remained on the God's while the arm circled his waist in a strong way, the other hand sliding to that mark. It still burned, whether it was all in the demons mind or it really was still burning his skin was undeterminable. The powerful hand tangled into his long, straight hair and his eyes watched the god in an appropriatly submissive way. Then the god's lips were on his own, bitting rather hard.

This did not bother the demon. In fact, though it hurt slightly, Verkur smiled and returned the bit, a bit more gentil however, because every individual tooth was sharp, and his fangs the only teeth that were dulled from eons of use. He confidently slid one of his own strong arms around the God's waist, the other lingering at his side. He didn't know exactly what to do with that one, so he put his hand on Viol's hip.

Ah yes... The pain was good. Viol himself didn't feel pain, well, not in the same way mortals did, anyways. Yet he knew for some pain was pleasure, or pain was needed, or pain was freedom. He was the God of Violence and pain was his crown. With strength that was perhaps not shown by his slim and feline physique, he began pulling Verkur towards the ground, now completely absorbed and momentarilly entertained by the change of events. Viol slid down as well, the hand in the demon's dark hair still there, holding his head with surprising gentillity.

Viol welcome the demon's reaction. It was one he wasn't always greeted with, believe it or not, but there were those few who became the God's tangled interest for a time. Verkur was simply at the peek of his time.

The floor was cold.

Viol was not.

((curtain call?))

((It's about that time.))

Verkur lay streached across the cold floor, his bare chest aginst the ground. His right leathery wing was wrapped around his body, countering the cold floor with it's warmth. His left wing was spread out across the body of the God lying next to him (If Viol is still there), warm as the other, and only slightly heavy. The wings hid the bareness of his pale body.

One of his arms lay across the god's torso, the other arm up under his own head, the demon's glowing white eyes watched the god. Was this what the mark had been for?