The half-demon held back, not attacking. His muscles were relaxed, but his attention was alert to the sounds and smells of the newcomer; there was a glint in his bottomless eyes that was neither good nor evil, it was the look of predator and prey. In his right hand, clenched tightly by four long claw-like fingers so hard that the hilt began to emit a strange heat, dangled his blade just inches off the ground, the blade, like the surrounding landscape, was made entirely of wood.
Alkron fell to the ground, rolling off the pew, when he smelt the human stench, landing softly like a cat. He then sprang back and slipped into the darkness just moments before the human entered the church. With his dark clothing and stalking nature, the half-breed was well concealed and stood in a stance ready for striking, or defending depending on the situation. No normal human would know he was there, a demon would be able to smell it him.
Creak…Creak… creak…: The human closer as she entered the church, her movements were clumsy as she stepped upon twig after twig, their constant cracking sound was the only sound that punctured the surreal tranquility.
Alkron’s own movements, when he moved, were completely silent; he scouted the exact location of where he should place his foot next every step. The wooden sword he held was no made of ordinary wood, but color of it was the best example of its uniqueness: The blade were either dark blue or black when hit with light in a certain manner, when no to little light hit it as now the blade was a dull green. The weapon itself held no magical power and could do little more than what any other sword could do, minus the actual slashing and tearing flesh open.
Alkron breathed quietly through his nose bitterly hating the stench of human; it was humans he hated per se, but their smell: Did humans ever bathe? Such a vulgar, underdeveloped race, how could they ever hope to have a foothold in history if they can’t even remember to clean themselves?
But there was something about this particular human that even Alkron couldn’t overlook…
This human girl who looked to be around his age (human years) was incredibly cute with the sun shining down upon her small figure, only augmenting her features. As the light hit her hair, the normally brown color became golden and red, but as easily as she stepped into the light, the color faded back to normal when she left the light. Her face was obscured by the very light that enhanced her hair color, yet when she stepped into the shade, from Alkron’s position he couldn’t quite discern her facial features: Bummer. Alkron shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
The weapon attached to her back by a simple string intrigued Alkron greatly. Inspecting the weapon as best he could from the darkness, he could see the hilt was worn-out, a clear sign that it was used and often at that. For some reason this annoyed Alkron; for what reason could this girl with silky white skin, a slender, but clumsy step, and an overall aura of innocence have any reason to kill?
Alkron shook his head. That couldn’t possibly be the answer, but his gut feeling wouldn’t leave it alone. Other reasons popped into his mind one after another: A weapon from a fallen warrior, a gift from a deceased parent, a cursed weapon that happened into her hands by mere chance… Every explanation was more ridiculous than the next, if indeed it was cursed she’d have realized his location long before now.
It was then that Alkron got a good look at the girl’s face.
“I could fall in love with such a face…” spoke Alkron rather louder than he realized. Unconsciously he could feel his face burn, his heart throbbing against his chest, sweat dripping from his brow…
He stepped out from the darkness and into the light suddenly and without reason, exposing his body in the sunlight. If it came down to a fight, he’d have both the strength and speed advantage as the natural rule between the two races, but he was only a half-breed whelp… his mind was also more cunning, Alkron knew, he was more experienced in fighting and thus more experienced in death. Her aura was far too innocent, carefree than that of a killer.
His weapon was lowered when he caught her attention to show his good intentions of avoiding a fight, but he also was ready, his reflexes were top notch, they had to be to survive.
“I assume you’re also here for them damn church crackers,” he said simply. “You’re too late, I am too so no Kid.”