Judge Not
Original



He was decked from head to foot in black leather. Buckles and straps fixated across his tight suit, the hilt of a dagger protruded sharply from the sheath at his hip, hanging lazily from his silver belt. In each boot glittering silver hilted beautifully crafted daggers shone like twinkling stars like those in the velvety sky above. His pale white skin contrasted sharply against the night sky, as did his predominate crimson eyes that glistened like neatly polished jewels. The man swept his silver locks from his softly scowling face, revealing himself to be a young man in his early twenties. His finger tips, pardoned by the excessive blackness of his wardrobe, twisted though his locks absently.

After a moment of silent debate, the wanderer let his crimson orbs drift to the towering, white washed, brightly lit church. The stained glass windows emitted a soft warming hue that cut through the fine night sky as if beaconing any weary traveler to its comforting doors. Aeideans’ sigh came out as a soft hiss between his teeth. He wasn’t particularly fond of the whole lot of religious people, but with clouds thundering from behind and the wind picking up; the traveler knew that he may not reach any other kind of sanctuary before the sleet wielding storm hit.

His light steps barely touched the browning, crumbling grass as he danced across it onto the steps of the church. The heels of his steel tipped boots clattered noisily at first, but quickly fell silent as the master of stealth willed his body to move with silent grace. He stopped at the towering oak doors, no longer looking welcoming with their exquisitely carved pictures dictating a story of suffering. Aeideans’ lip twitched as he let himself lean back to get a better view of the scourge. He frowned, unimpressed, and thought of turning back.

Lightening flashed, followed by a crack of thunder that nearly stole his hearing. The man clapped his hands over his ears, flinching in pain and glanced up at the sky. Cold, painful darts of ice skipped across his face and against the ground and church making a dramatic pitter-patter like stones. Clouds now rolled like a dark swarming army across the previously cheerfully blinking stars. The mans frown deepened as he tentatively removed his frail looking hands from his ears. He gave the church door another gloomy look before he finally gave it a gentle, experimental shove.

It emitted him easily. It swung open on creaking, but obviously dependable hinges and the bright light of hundreds of candles pierced his eyes. Aeidean squinted against the obtrusive brightness until his eyes took a moment to adjust.

Believing that the holy men probably already knew of his presence, the darkly-clad man didn’t bother to make his entrance silent. His heeled boots knocked noisily on the tiled marble floor, echoing off the dome ceiling and sending an ominous clack through the building. His eyes scanned the church. It was wide, mostly empty, and lacking of any real pleasantry that mocked the warmth the building had given off from outside. Benches were lined in rows, typical of most churches, though they looked old and neglected as if the lack of use had left the solid oak weary. Aeidean felt the warmth of the candles set about the room and he gave an uncomfortable tug at his collar as he came towards the last row of benches.

His unimpressed eyes dropped to the bench, covered in dust and sporting a few nicks and scratches, though otherwise outwardly unharmed. With one arm unconsciously wrapped about the front of his stomach, as it usually was, the man leaned over to brush away the dust on the end of the bench. The dust rose in a cloud, and Aeidean attempted to suppress a sneeze. With a somewhat anger-filled motion, the man sat on the bench and at the same moment was overcome with the urge to sneeze. In disgust, he sniffed loudly brushing at his nose.

“The weather is terrible, isn’t it?” Came a welcoming voice.

Aeidean gave a dignified sniff, looking up to find a red-haired Priest standing with his hands interlaced in front of himself. Perturbed that he hadn’t spotted the man before, Aeidean took his time to study the white robbed figure intently.

“Where do you hail?” the Priest asked, tilting his head. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

Aeidean gave him a sour look, and then crossed his ankles, stretching out and folding his arms across his chest. “South of here.” He replied vaguely, stiffly.

“Oh, you must not be use to the cold.” The Priest said, blinking his wide blue eyes sympathetically. “You are more then welcomed to stay as long as you need.” When the snowy-haired man decided that letting his eyes drift about the church lazily was far more important then thanking the Priest, Ether shifted uncomfortably. “What is your name, traveler?” He asked.

The man gave him a dirty look as if the question were far too personal before replying in a obviously annoyed voice, “Aeidean.”

“I am Father Ether.” The Priest said with a slight bow. “I am the only Priest here at the moment, so if I can do anything, please don’t be shy to ask.”

Upon being ignored once more, Ester was beginning to believe the other man was either partly deaf, or lacking…efficient thought process. The holy man walked slowly towards him, trying not to startle the bored looking man, leaning close. “MY NAME IS ETHER.” The holy man half yelled into the mans ear.. Aeidean flailed at the sudden invasion of his hearing and slipped off the bench and landed with a painful groan onto the hard floor. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” Ether exclaimed, wide eyed, hands covering his mouth his horror. “I’m so sorry, let me help you up!”

Slapping away the Priests overly helpful hands Aeidean straightened and gave the shorter man a dark look. Ether stepped back uncertainly, biting his lower lip and staring apologetically. “I thought you deaf.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The leather bound man said bitterly, rubbing the assaulted ear tenderly. “Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“I apologizes, Mister Aeidean.” The Priest had begun to bow, but he faltered between the first and second. Slowly the Priest straightened, his eyes searching the others fearfully. “You have eyes red like a demon.” The slightest quiver ran through his youthful voice, though he did well to hide it.

Aeideans eyes narrowed and he took a slight step towards the Priest. Ether took several steps backwards, his hands clasped tightly against his chest. “If you wish to take my life, I only ask that you give me a moment to pra—“

“Oh, get over yourself.” Aeidean snorted, his right hand taking its place across his abdomen. He waved his left hand carelessly in front of Ether’s face and the Priest blinked, pursing his lips and stepped out of the odd motions path. Aeideans heels clicked across the floor as he made his way towards a small basin set in the front of the church filled with, presumably, holy water.

Ether watched him curiously, hands still pressed to his chest, as he followed. Aeidean stopped in front of the basin and lifted his hand into the air, wiggling his fingers. When he knew he had the Priests full attention, the man ran his fingertips across the waters surface.

“Does this ease your heart?” Aeidean asked quietly. Though if Ether had been trained to hear slight quivers and trembles in voices, he may have perhaps heard the pained tremor in the crimson-eyed mans voice.

“I’m sorry, Mister Aeidean.” The Priest said, lowering his eyes. “I did not mean to judge you unfairly… I just…”

“I get it a lot.” Aeidean said again, flicking his fingers dry of the rest of the holy water before pressing the reddened fingertips to his leather pants and drying them completely. “I’m not going to hurt you though, demon or not.”

“O-of course.” Ether said with a low, apologetic bow. A clap of thunder resounded loudly above, and the edgy Priest jumped, thoroughly startled. Aeidean frowned slightly as he watched the young holy man recover from his fright.

Aeidean tried to hold back his guilty sigh, but it ended up sounding like an annoyed hiss. Alarmed, Ether blinked several times at him, looking almost as if he’d bolt towards the door screaming “sacrilegious” or “blasphemy”. Aeidean half expected him to fall to his knees and begin praying to his God while awaiting a painfully excruciating death by the hands of this “demon”.

“You know… I like the rain.” Aeidean said after a moment, his eyes ghosting up towards the high windows that held back the pitter-patter of cold, frigid rain. Ethers’ brow furrowed in confusion at the statement, but he made no comment. Aeidean reached up to flick his collar up so it covered his ears and smiled at the Priest. “Thanks for the hospitality, but I think I’ll be going. How close is the next town? Ah, it doesn’t matter.” He started towards the door, the echo of his footsteps uncomfortably loud in the silent vacancy.

“Y-you don’t need to go, it’s terrible weather, Mister Aeidean.” Ether said, following after, eyes wide, hands trembling over his heart.

Aeidean pushed opened the door and the pouring rain sounded like thousands of hisses. The cold air heaved in greedily from outside sending over half the candles to its doom. Ether jumped at the sudden change of visibility, glancing at the smoking lightless candles then back towards Aeidean who had already started out the door.

“Wait, Mister Aeidean!” The Priest called, splashing out into the cold. The man looked back at him, his silvery hair now plastered to his pale face. Though he looked miserable, he managed a smile. Taken aback, Ether stopped, brushing away the crimson locks from his eyes and staring worriedly at the man.

“Go inside, Priest. It’s too cold outside for a human.” Aeidean said with a smile. Once again, a quizzical look passed across the Priests face, but it was soon replaced by morbid understanding.

Leathery looking wings spouted from the white-haired mans back. They stretched out over six feet in length, the tips of the wings ending in pearly white sharply pointed bone. The wings fluttered several times as if stretching away the stiffness. The half-demon gave him a small smirk, lifting one hand up in a quiet, respectful salute. “Good Day.” He said.

His wings spread out, lifting the man into the air. In a moment the flutter of the leather wings disappeared, along with the oddly dressed, silver-haired man.

Ether was left standing, one hand pressed to his chest, his other hand supporting the faint Priest from collapse. His wide blue eyes blinked several times, unbelieving of what he had just seen…and survived. When his body gave an involuntary shudder from the cold, the Priest, stepped back into the dryness of the church, unbelieving and skeptical of the stories he had heard of the “chaotic, sacrilegious, blood drinking demons.” For the first time in his life, Ether found himself in doubt of his faith.

[Ramirez]



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