There was a madness in the other man's eyes, a glittering wildness that hinted his foe had been, at least partially, unhinged by the poison he drank. Instability was a weakness that Sirius could use, as the serpent had become master at using all poisons. His wars were waged in the mind, not in the blood, as were those of the golden eagle and his raven brethren. There was silver in his blood, coursing as strongly as the molten gold within Ezekiel's, and yet unlike that boiling sunset hue it was cold to the touch - Deathly cold.
They wore cloaks of danger, begot by the old wicked ones who had formed earth and men and mates with these two protégé in mind. Both were the peak of their own kind; The highest forms of bloodlines that ran thick and thin with madness and genius alike. Ezekiel was made, as his father had been made: A creature of war, a dark paladin that sought to burn impurity within all things beyond its own impure self. Sirius was of a different breed: Those who crept in the night-time corners, a flash of eyes and sharp fangs and cold, bleaching bones. Perhaps there was a cowardliness to his blood that made him hide his beast in darkness, in arrogance and pride - But regardless, danger and death welcomed the two men each as sons, as brothers.
He took back the bottle when it was offered, wickedly curved claws brushing those of the other man before the green glass was raised to quench an insatiable thirst. Narrowed pupils watched the ranting angel closely, seeing for the first time how mortal dirt had begun to erode him. Ezekiel was not so pure as he had thought; Nor so sane.
Such wicked thoughts were distracted by the mention of hellions, of the plague which Sirius currently faced. His black lips twitched to show those insidious daggers, revealing for a precious moment how tender such a subject was, before sheathing those weapons away beneath a smoldering glance of nonchalance. "I fear no demons but my own," Came the tart reply, as the slender man eyed his stockier companion narrowly. Ezekiel knew little of his own handsomeness, and from this stemmed a remarkable lack of vanity - Sirius knew too much of his own, providing a deep well of self-assurance to fall back on. Each held flaws and strengths within their polar personalities, and within their identical beasts, caged deeply in sinew and hot flesh.
The Aquila was offered a shrug, but the motion was more inwardly directed, as though Sirius sought to brush off the women that had been bubbling trouble for him. It became apparent to him that Ezekiel had caught the scent of sex on his pelt. A smug, toothy smile heralded his silver tongue. "Don't preach your carefulness to me, Ezekiel. At least I know the feel of a woman to warm my bedfurs; Your demon prattle speaks of its own abstinence. You do look in need of a good fuck," Here, the snake grinned widely, pleased with how crude his suave caramel tones sounded above the crackling flames.
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