The last stand [Jade x Pandle]

[Pandle]

a·poc·a·lypse noun
a prophetic revelation, especially concerning a cataclysm
in which the forces of evil permanently triumph over the
forces of good.

2100; the gates to Hell have long since been broken and from the depths of brimstone the demons have arisen. Too strong for mortals they have taken precedent, free to do as they desire on the rubbles and ruins of mankind, they stand unequalled with no opponent but angels...

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Mankind is all but destroyed, the greatest race of all reduced to ashes. The once gleaming cities are nothing but dust and bricks, there are harbours of safety protected by the angels, these areas alone provide shelter to those who survive. To the bruised and shattered planet hope returned in the form of angels, and with hope came love. Hybrids of angels and demons began to emerge, mingling amongst the remnants of society but outcast: for they belonged to no race. There are a few, special hybrids known selectively as Crossovers, they alone carry both the body and power of angels and demons alike. But they are rare to come by and far from trustworthy beings, for at the arrival of their twentieth birthday the choice between good and evil is upon them; one choice, one chance and unfavourable odds.

Could the power of the world lie in the hands of a single Crossover?

With one last sanctuary to hide in, the Forbidden City, and demons hunting high and low for its whereabouts the end game is coming to its finale. If the city can be destroyed the last of the humans will perish and so too will the angels.There's nothing left to lose. It's all to play for.

[Pandle]

Forms © Rᴀɪɴɪɴɢ Mɪsᴇʀʏ (used with express permission)
Image credits go to their original owners.

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• Alanis Kostoveka Engova
  
• Eighteen, I'll turn nineteen on January 1st, if i live that long
  
• Daughter of Eve

There hasn't been much time for love, and doubt is too woeful to know that hope is his brother, so my mother would say. I was one of three and I was their youngest. Gabriel and Molly, respectively four and two years my seniors, succumbed to destruction in 2089. Our mother never made it that far, not really. She is no longer right in the head, her silence is pressing and absolute. It began when I seven, our father left to help with the war against demons, he never returned. With no grave no mourn at and no idea if he might ever return my mother gave in to misery. She shut herself away from the world and punished us for surviving where her lover fell. Gabriel took lead, he had the courage and the determination to make things right, and for years he lead our family through the darkness. By his hand we arrived at the Forbidden city, the four of us. Months later he and Molly left to find work in the fields. They were the unfortunate victims of a demon attack, my last words to them had been cruel. Now it just mother and I.

Just five foot four, Alanis is something of a small young adult, naturally she takes to blaming the poor nutritional diet caused by the apocalypse.

Honest, parental, pensive; with the additional care her mother, Alanis had learnt the role of motherhood is far from easy. The attentive patience with which she serves her duty has revealed the blossoming nature inside her. Matured beyond her years, Alanis is a curious individual desperate to honour those close to her heart. She is painfully aware that life is short and brutish but she does not believe that it should be an excuse to act as cruelly as the demons who invade the earth. Instead she stands firm in her own believes by assisting those who need aid; be it her own mother in the taste of surviving, or a stranger wounded in battle. Not all angels come from Heaven.

Affectionate, passionate, romantic; just as every other teenage girl once dreamt of love, so too does Alanis. Hormonal conflicts seem not to sway her from a route of steadfast love, if there is anything worth living for in the ruins of the Earth then it is hope, hope for love. Passionate about not only those close to her, but the work she commits to, Alanis takes pleasure in the scraps of ordinary life. Affection for the things she loves and longs for also drives her romanticism; fairytale stories aren't such daft ideas these days: where there are demons and angels there is sure to be a love story.

Convivial, gregarious, ecumenical;

Abiding, persistent, perpetual; giving up is not in Alanis' nature. For too long she has existed under the strain of demons. Despite all the odds she flourishes in the pressure of the new world, yet she understands that to survive she must adapt and sometimes that adaption to following rules can be a lifesaver. Painfully aware that Gabriel and Molly's deaths were the results of disobedience, Alanis is reluctant to push anything to its limits when the reward is not so evident. She far rather live in the shelter of the Forbidden city and never know again of the world beyond, than risk everything for a quick glance at what is no longer. That said, she's determined and won't let a matter drop. If it should draw her attention and passion she'll follow it through to the end, regardless of the possible consequences.

Loyal, resolute, enduring; Alanis has great faith and trust that not everyone is evil, no matter their race. Perhaps the demons are misunderstood, perhaps the angels are not all good...whatever the case of the war that Earth has become caught up in, Alanis is unafraid to put trust into those who earn it. Prepared to suffer anything for a worthy-cause she'll not sway from his position, even if it might bring death.

[Jadeghost]

Full Name: Damien Adrian Malphas; Damien meaning "to tame" and given to him by his father, Adrian meaning "dark" and given by his mother, and Malphas refers to his grandfather, the mighty prince of Hell who appears as a crow.
Age: Damien is nineteen years of age at the moment, but will turn twenty in a matter of months as his birthday is September 6th.
Gender: Male, if you couldn't already tell.
Race: Ah, an important question. Damien was conceived by a male angel and a female demon, making him the rare hybrid known as a crossover; half angel and half demon.
Main Weapon: Although he does have a gun and knows how to use it if he is provoked enough, Damien prefers to keep it only for emergencies. He prefers two long knives that he always keeps stashed in his boots, although he doesn't often have to resort to them since making sparks dance across his skin is usually enough to keep his enemies away.
Power: Speaking of sparks, Damien is one of the lucky few hybrids to have been born with a supernatural power. Although both of his parents were gifted with their own abilities, Damien inherited neither. He developed his own unique power, which began when he was just a child playing near an electrical outlet. When his mother tried to lay him down for a nap, the child got so upset that he caused an electrical shortage and nearly set the house on fire. He has a bad habit of shocking people if he is not careful, and will not even allow himself to go outside in storms anymore since he has little control over his power, especially when he is highly upset or angry.
Physical Description:
Damien is neither tall nor short for a male of his age; he stands around 5' 10', but although he is not overly tall he has always seemed rather slender for his height; mostly due to the fact that he has never really had enough to eat. His skin is slightly on the paler side but he is able to develop a nice tan in direct sunlight. Damien has dark blue eyes with flecks of either silver or gold around the iris; depending on what form he is in at the time. He has dark hair that could be considered black, but in light has been known to shine a darker brown. Damien's arms look as though they could develop muscle if he trained them harder, but for now they are slender and lean rather than thick and muscular. While he is not weak Damien is definitely not the strongest guy out there, and if a battle comes down to brute strength he is sure to lose. Another distinct feature he possesses are the ugly, twisted scars on his back from the night his mother died, but they are only visible when he takes his shirt off or if someone manages to catch a glimpse of the back of his bare neck, where the ends of the scars can be seen.

History:
Damien's history began when a rather questionable male angel seduced a female demon. When Damien's father found out that his mother was pregnant, he abandoned her, and to this day no one knows his true identity. Damien's mother raised her child on her own and did her best to keep him a secret, but you can only keep such an unpredictable boy a secret for so long. When it was discovered that Damien was a crossover, both the demon and angel governments prepared to come for him, but of course the demons got there first. In the fight that ensued, Damien was upset and lost control...and while he succeeded in driving back the enemy demons, his mother had already been killed, and Damien became an orphan at only ten years old. He had several angels show him kindness over the years he lived on his own, but every time some sort of tragedy happened where Damien lost control and ended up hurting someone. Still, at 14 he had learned enough to survive on his own. He has been wandering from village to village ever since then, never staying in one place for too long, but now his current mission is to find some way to the Forbidden City as his change becomes ever closer. He still has not decided which path to take, and fears that he may only end up being destroyed in the process instead...
Personality:
Like other crossovers, Damien is largely influenced by the constant battle going on inside him. He has developed a little control over his forms over the years, and most of the time he manages to keep his angel side as his outward appearance, but at any moment there is the chance that he will snap and revert to his demon form. Damien does not fear his demonic side, but he is much more unpredictable and emotionally unstable in this state, and more likely to lose control of his powers. As his change draws nearer, he can sometimes feel his very blood boiling within him as his own body wars with itself, and often wakes in the middle of the night due to his physically painful nightmares.
It is quite hard to earn Damien's trust, and while he knows how to be loyal he is wary only because he has been betrayed so many times before. Underneath his harsh exterior, there longs a young man with a simple yet intense desire to be loved and accepted. He years for a friend to help him on his journey and someone to lean on while he goes through this important stage of his life.

[Pandle]

The Forbidden city was nothing close to home, but it was all Alanis had left. She refused to submit to the darkness in her peripheral vision, the swollen breasts of anarchy stretched out on the horizon and the promise of terror, of agony, that lay there. She remembered home as it was; white picket fence, a porch with a rocking horse -her horse, and the fly net over the doors and windows, as if it might hold the fortress free of summer's usual bombardment of bugs. The forbidden city had none of that. It was more of an old village hidden the foothills of the mountains, something out of a college textbook on paleolithic evolution, not twenty-second century humans. The houses were mudbrick at best, round, single rooms. It was a small favour that it was just the two of them, anything more and there'd have been little room to move about. There was something exhilarating at first, about living in such simple, hand-crafted accommodation, about feeling the clay beneath your shoulders slowly warm to your body heat. The excitement had faded rapidly, leaving the sour and bitter aftertaste of poverty.

This was poverty. This was endless. The economy was gone, the American dream was nothing more than a memory and food was a luxury not always available. It was why Alanis had finally concluded that it was time to do something. Offering to do the neighbours laundry just so she could get out of the stuffy hut and away from her mother was a lousy waste of her time. Slipping down in an old pair of boots and an ancient maroon coloured shirt, Alanis wove slowly up the mountain toward Padro, a nomad farmer trusted with the care of some of the worlds last goats. Someone would have to help him, he was nearly eighty, he was too old to walk after goats all day, past his prime in keeping them save and milking them and beyond helpful should demons ever strike. With a resolute and grim expression Alanis picked her way carefully over the terrain. It had been agreed last week that she would become his apprentice, and when we died -for he inevitably would soon- she would become the goat farmer. This was to become her life now.

It was past noon by the time Alanis caught sight of Padro. He stood in rags and leant heavily on a pole, his face leathery and lined with wrinkles and his eyes dulled. Despite his fragility he smiled warmly at Alanis' approaching figure and grumbled an equally pleased greeting. None of this reassured the young woman as she stood in the icy wind, her soft tawny hair being tugged by the invisible hands. The city, from up here, was nothing more than vague splotches against grey rock.

This was the reward for survive demons.

[Jadeghost]

Keep heading north until you reach the mountains. Don't stop until you hear the bleating of goats, for the Forbidden City is one of the only places they exist now. They signal your arrival into the outskirts of the city. The instructions he had been given by an old friend kept repeating themselves over and over in Damien's mind. While he may be a loner by nature, nearly two weeks of travelling on his own had taken its toll. Right now, Damien would have given just about anything to see a friendly face.
Today was an angel day. Damien felt the familiar, comforting warmth spread throughout his body; calming him as underneath his skin, his own blood was fighting itself. His blood had always fascinated as well as frightened him; while angels bled gold and demons silver, his blood was a mix of both. When humans were struck down, the angry shades of red that flowed out of their lifeless bodies helped to intensify the sorrow. No one would shed a tear if a crossover were struck down. They were the outcasts, the misfits, the accidents that should have never been born. Damien knew all too well of the battle that raged on inside him constantly, and there was nothing he could do to tame it. Angels and demons were never meant to mix.
The mountains that had loomed in the distance this morning and had before seemed to far away were now within his reach. As the sun rose to its highest point in the sky for the day, Damien was just a hundred yards away from the base of the nearest one. He was getting close, or at least he hoped; the small pack of the few supplies he had now felt unusually heavy on his shoulders, and Damien knew he would not be able to go on for much longer on his own. The day was not hot nor cold, but just as he reached the rocky base of the nearest mountain he felt the beginnings of a prickling sensation across his skin, and it was not his electricity. No, this was yet another horror, one that frightened Damien even more than those who hunted people like him.
With a cry he was suddenly forced to his knees as what felt like a wave of ice cold water washed over him. The noise echoed across the mountains as Damien squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to work his way through the pain of the change. After nineteen years of experiencing this very thing several times a day, one might think he would be used to how quickly his forms changed. For a while, they got almost bearable, but as his twentieth birthday neared closer and closer, the attacks became more and more frequent as well as more painful, and Damien was powerless to stop them.
The warmth in his blood that had previously felt so comforting instantly changed to ice, causing him to wince at the sudden contrast. The angelic side of him was warm and stable, but the demonic side was the exact opposite; unpredictable and insatiable. After a few moments, the change was complete, and when Damien finally opened his eyes he knew they would shine silver around the iris. Unsteadily, he got to his feet, just as he heard a goat bleat echo around the side of the mountain...

[Pandle]

Before this, before the world ended, people lived in glorious cities, not in mountains. They'd had to adapt. Always it came down to how well you could adapt, Alanis knew it as if it were written in her own flesh. Adapt. Adapt. Adapt. Her mother had failed to evolve into something strong enough to survive, and she suffered now: a vegetative state overwhelming her, Alanis would have surprised if her mother was even aware what was going on. Gabriel and Molly, they'd adapted, but they failed to take heed from it. They paid with their lives. Alanis could not afford to make the same mistakes. And she wouldn't have to.

Padro ushered her along as if she herself were a goat. Though she had spent the morning scrambling up the arduous flank of rock, Padro ushered her into her new role with a thwack of his stick. Alanis wasn't entirely sure what she had expected from the old man, but it wasn't this. There was no comfort to be found in the man, in his salivating mouth, his toothless jaws working furiously on a sunflower stalk, in his fierce eyes which had narrowed after their initial warmth. Even his hunched spine was far from a weakness. He looked more like a man crippled by years of fighting than years of shepherding goats.

Regardless of the ache in her limbs, Alanis accepted Padro as her guide and followed suit, her ears attentive to his growling and his barking; for that was his method of communication and she could not tell if it were because the animals were all he'd known, or because he could not form the sound of words in any other way. She supposed, dully, that it did not matter and sooner or later, one way or another, she would find out for herself. Padro might be old in body but his mind was sharp, so too were his ears.

The cry was heard by all. Alanis was positive; the ringing tone of agony and loss splintering off the rocks and the boulders, bouncing between the canyons and the crags. The goats, who had meandered without thought, bleated in their distress, and Padro, old man Padro, stiffened like a fox to the horns of a hunt.
"That, that is not good." With a grumble of warning from Padro and a second, sharp swat of his cain, Alanis scrambled forward, arms extended in an attempt to heard the goats in one direction: west. Pedro was already moving that way, lunging forward with relentless speed. To the west lay angels, Padro assured her. To the west lay their only hope of surviving for they could not scramble down into the village, they would lead the demon (for that it was a demon they had heard was the only thought in their minds, regardless if it was or not), into the heart of the Forbidden city. Instead they had to head west toward the final outpost. The tower of the angels.

It was a five day walk at a brisk pace.
It was five days too far.

[Jadeghost]

((Oh my your writing is lovely Pandle C:
Also my replies will be this slow all week, as I work from 11-5 my time for the next four days DX))

Sooner than he was able to curse himself for making his presence known, Damien looked up quickly as his brain registered the goat's cries. Glancing around him though, he saw nothing. His old mentor's instructions had been clear and there was no doubt that he could have gotten them wrong, so why did he not see any sort of a sign that people were actually living nearby. Of course the city had to remain as hidden as possible so that the wrong people would not find it, but unless they lived underground Damien could not see where thousands of people could be residing. Other than hearing the goats just now, he had seen no sign of life for miles.
There was only one thing to do: keep walking. His first few steps were unsteady; rather than in his legs, the problem was in his eyesight. Demons saw the world a whole lot differently, and he had yet to become accustomed to the sudden change. While his vision was still as sharp as ever, Damien was now on high alert; all of his senses jumped to attention. He could pick up even the slightest movements and shadows, and he suddenly felt irritation begin to build inside him when he had nothing really to be upset over. Damien flexed his hands as he felt the slightest charges of electricity begin to dance across his skin. No, he would not let his inner demon get the best of him yet again. With supreme effort, he manged to suppress the energy that was begging to be let loose, and continued on.
It was then that he came to a slight fork in his path; from the position of the stars in the sky, Damien could tell that one led east and the other west. Both paths looked as if they had not been used in a long, long time; but he knew better. His demonic side told him that it was a trap; they only looked worn because that was what whoever lived around here wanted him to think. Upon closer inspection, Damien realized that there were the faintest traces of human footsteps, as well as goat hoofprints, leading to the west.
Now he was faced with a dilemma. Which instincts to trust? Somewhere inside, his angel pointed him to the west. It was convinced that following the goats was the right thing to do since it was what was instructed of him. His demon was more skeptical, and honestly was not sure of which path to take. Part of it assured him that east was the way to go. To the west only lay a trap; obviously whoever was in charge of the goats had heard him, and were now trying desperately to lead him away. But if he went west, he was sure to come upon a defenseless human or angel; someone to take advantage of regardless. And his palms were itching for a fight, even though he was not at all prepared for one.
Damien was not going to sit here all day deciding; he was never one to second guess his first choice. And both his sides were pointing toward west in some way, so that is the way he would go. The dagger concealed in his boot suddenly felt heavier, as if it knew some sort of confrontation was imminent.

[Pandle]

His digits curled brashly upward, the old yellow stains of a smoker staining the blunted tips like onion skin. Five unmistakable fingers to signal the days from safety at which they presently stood. If only she had waited, even if it had been by only an hour, it would have been hour enough to scrabble back down to the sanctuary of the city. Or, at the very least, the outskirts. But here she stood, the bombardment of wind escalating as if sensing the imint doom that lay behind. It was little comfort that Padro hobbled along with such ferocity; he was ancient and crippled and he was moving that she was! This, Alanis thought coldly, was because of the goats. She could run if she desired it, infact she very much desired it. Alanis wanted nothing more than to run all the way to the horizon and the promise of harbour. Instead she was zig-zagging across the rocky alpines with her arms crashing and waving and the threat of a demon closing in.

An hour. That was all she asked for.

The goats weren't waiting, and neither was Padro. She could long all she wanted but it wasn't going to get her anywhere. Adapt. She had to adapt. Walk. Walk now. Forcing the longing from her mind she throttled the earth with her boots, pushing off from the tufts of grass as the goats finally began to trundle west after Padro. But they were fooling nobody. Alanis knew very little of demons, she knew even less about angels, in fact, Alanis was painfully aware that she knew very little about an awful lot. The only area of life Alanis was reasonably confident in holding her own in, was how to remove grass stains out of tunics, and how to plough a field. Neither of which would be of any use in saving her against a demon.

Neither would they help her in a medical emergency.
Which was both a hindrance and a saving-grace, for as her feet continued to fly along the uneven terrain her toes caught in a bramble and she came crashing down with a yelp. Her cheeks, scuffed and bruised, bore streaks of crimson and grit, but this was minor. Her attention and cry came from the growing stain on her leg. Pardo, who was now an incredible distance ahead, began to hurry backward, growling and snapping furiously with a hollow "wabba wabba" of his toothless gums. The goats dispensed once more, and their momentary form folded completely.

Struggling onto her feet Alanis was surprised to find Padro rummaging through his pockets for a bandage. He thrust it angrily toward her, and jabbed his finger at a large compilation of boulders nearly a hundred meters off the track. She understood. With a nod of thanks Alanis hobbled rapidly toward the shelter, her jaw clenched as the jolts shock up her limb. She'd had cuts before, she'd had grazes before, she knew the wound would heal. The problem came with trying to run away from a demon on the injury. Behind the rocks Alanis could just see the track, she hadn't realised it before, but the boulders masked a hollow; sheltered from the wind and from the track she was free to attend to her wound...

{{ Thankies 8D Uh oh, I sense trouble looming xD Poor Damien and his changes, ickle boy needs some luffin.
And not a problem, I've got exams for the next two weeks which I ought to be doing instead xD

[Jadeghost]

((I have a bad habit of making all my characters horribly tragic XD
And yay, conflict equals drama <3))

Demons truly were sickening creatures by nature, as Damien was painfully reminded of each time he changed. Every instinct they had was a selfish one, and their very brains were wired for only two things; either destroy or kill. When his eyes were silver, Damien was only concerned for himself.
Strange, considering the few memories he still carried of his mother. Even though she was abandoned by the man who had sinned just as much as she, she still protected and cared for her only son even when some would have rather abandoned him. Damien knew he was not an easy child to care for, with his unpredictable changes as well as unstable powers, but Mother had always done her very best to keep him happy and safe; eventually at the cost of her life. A pang went through his heart as painful memories from that night washed over him yet again. His mother telling him to run, while she herself was overcome by her own kind. Damien still did not know if they were there to destroy him or harness his unstable energy; but either way, it would have meant an agonizing end for him. Despite his mother's warning, he stayed by her side, and for once his powers came in handy, and a young child managed to drive away a half dozen powerful demons; but for his mother it was already too late. To this day, he was haunted with memories of her lifeless eyes staring up at him, forever unseeing...
And that's when the wind suddenly blew in his direction, and almost unconsciously, Damien's head snapped to his left. Although it was incredibly faint, there was no doubt in his mind that he smelled traces of human blood in the air. It was sickening that his demonic side could pick up both the blood of humans and angels just as a shark, but it was just another adaptation the demons had developed in order to kill as quickly and efficiently as possible.
So there were humans about. Perhaps they were the ones tending the goats, and when they had heard his cry they were now running away desperately. Perhaps one of them had fallen, or scraped their fragile skin on the rough sides of the mountains. Either way, he was not far away now. His ears were beginning to pick up the goats bleating in alarm yet again, but even for him the noises were faint, and moving away at a very brisk pace.
Why was he even bothering to chase after goats and humans anyways? The only race that had ever shown him any kind of respect were angels, and Damien knew that deep down they feared him too. It was only a matter of time before he gave them a reason to run just like everyone else in his life had. And worse; right now, he looked like a demon, and judging from how ice cold his skin still felt to the touch, another change wouldn't be happening any time soon. Few demons resided in the Forbidden City, and it was suspected that some of them were spies. And with the rumors going around, it was highly unlikely that anyone would trust him.
Underneath him, one of Damien's feet slipped on the slippery slope. He quickly thrust out one of his arms to steady himself, and while it saved his legs, one of the sharp stones pierced a small hole in his palm. He watched with mild interest as gold and silver began to seep out, but then wiped the hand on his pants. No wonder the humans had fallen.
The scent of iron was only growing stronger, which could only mean that the injured had been forced to stay behind. Great; he would be faced with confronting humans who were pretty much trapped as well as already terrified. How on earth was he he going to convince them he was not a threat? Damien knew he could act as a pureblood demon for a while, but as soon as another change struck they would know who he was. He knew it was highly likely that even the Forbidden City, a safe haven for outcasts, would reject him.
Damien could see nor hear anything nearby, but his instincts assured him that the injured human was around here somewhere. He closed his eyes and concentrated with all his might, and finally was able to hear the frantic beating of a terrified heart. Where could they be? There was nothing around other than a pile of boulders down in a crevice below...surely even humans would not be stupid enough to trap themselves like that...

[Pandle]

Life had not been unkind to Alanis. If this was how she was to perish, in a hollow abreast the mountains of the Forbidden city, then it was not so unreasonable. Of all the people living in the mountain, Alanis was agonisingly aware that your actions entitled you to nothing, not in life. She was the youngest of three generations of Engova's since the apocalypse had begun, she had spent her childhood travelling across the ruins of mankind to reach the last safe haven, and existed there with relative comfort. Nothing in her eighteen years of existence demanded that she survive a day of goat shepherding but she hoped, as she crouched there, her eyes trained on the figure on the path, that she wouldn't meet her end here.

The blood. Had it drawn the demon? She would need to remove the perfume, she was as good as a walking dinner bell. But that would involve moving, and that, Alanis feared, might result in noise. The last thing Alanis desired was to serve herself up on a golden plate to a blood-lusting demon. Nevertheless, if she continued to hover against the rocks the ringing siren of her blood would draw the creature regardless. With a prayer to nobody in particular she pushed herself away from the groove of the nearest boulder, and hobbled frantically further, to the opposing edge.

She was relieved the find that the hollow, though apparently circular in its shape, was far from it. The boulders were an illusional aspect that masked an indentation, it was just large enough for a person to snuggle into, although it wouldn't shield her from the demon if he came looking. It was enough, for now, to offer some protection. Curling into the grove of earth Alanis rapidly wrestled with the script of bandages, gingerly flicking dirt from her knee before encasing it in the soft promise of safety.

And not a moment too soon. Rolling from the hollow and scuttling back to her vantage point the figure was gaining toward the hollow. Alanis was trapped. She really was going to perish. With a rising sense of panic burning in her throat she crossed back, oblivious to Padro who had thundered back along the track, his cain raised in attack as he flew, in his old man hobble, toward the stranger on the track, uncaring if it was demon or angel, friend or foe...


{{yay for drama and intense feels for fictional characters who i grow far too emotionally attached to 8D
Also that post = A++
Psst, Padro can die or survive, whatever plucks your fancy.