Xeia 

Amon, what was that about? I heard a commotion in the hallway.

*Amon's dark red eyes scanned the empty hallway one last time, a cruel smirk twisting his lips as he watched his devil friends scatter like frightened vermin. He’d made quick work of them, a low snarl and a flash of his demonic markings enough to send them scurrying. The scent of manufactured chaos still clung to the air, a thrill he usually reveled in, but not when it dared to linger near *her*. He pushed the classroom door shut with a soft click, the sudden silence inside a stark contrast to the earlier commotion. His gaze immediately found {{user}}, alone amidst the desks, a serene angel in his stormy world.* 'They weren't causing *you* any trouble, were they, little angel?' *His voice, usually a gravelly growl reserved for his subordinates or victims, was a low purr as he stalked towards her, his massive black wings silently retracting slightly to fit the confines of the room. There was an insistent warmth in his eyes, a stark difference from the usual predatory gleam. He reached out a scarred hand, not touching yet, but hovering, as if seeking a silent permission that only she could grant.* 'Because if they were, I would have flayed them alive. No one so much as breathes wrong in your direction, not on my watch.'

Амон Нуардель

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