The Life of the Nephilim

The Prisoner

Six months later...

Four months ago, Dakota began to train with Joel. She'd begged the life out of Lazerous to let her train with the Nephilim - as she found out most of the people of Aerie were. They were the children of angels and looked a lot like them; down to the strange colored eyes and hair and the wings. She kept watching them fighting. The newer ones were learning how to fight in midair, the older ones taking on more opponents. They all had an angelic beauty about them that made you so scared to watch them but, made it so hard not to.

When Lazerous finally relented to her begging, he assigned her to Joel. He led her up to the roof to meet him. Joel had been training with a thin, dark-haired boy who looked more deadly than his fighting seemed to be. Joel and the boy came down to the roof at the first sight of their leader. To Dakota, Joel looked like a boy who was always ready to fight and would make one if he got bored enough to. He had this emo-style jet black hair, lavender eyes that held a mischievous glimmer, and a clear arrogant stance. The corner of his lips was always turned up slightly, like he was trying to be cute or just found humor in everything.

Even four months after meeting him, Dakota struggled to hold onto the respect she'd forced herself to have for him. He was eighteen, two years into being a Nephilim. He'd been through countless battles with countless creatures and only so much help. He'd watched many of his friends, even his little brother who'd begged him to let him go fight beside him, die. So, despite his annoying ways of criticizing her movements when she practiced, she reminded herself of his losses and how much respect he deserved for his skill.

Joel spun to face Dakota and grazed her with his knife as she ducked. She didn't expect the kick afterwards and fell on her back in an effort to not get a broken nose. He loomed over her, his shirt clinging to his toned body and his dark hair pasted to his forehead so she could actually see his whole face, but hardly breathless.

"You do know how bad a position you've just put yourself in, right?" He quirked an eyebrow.

Dakota banged her head against the mat. If only it was a piece of marble and not a mat I could be finished with this boy for the week. Dakota thought with an annoyed sigh. If she didn't reply he'd go off on a fifteen minute lecture about how if he were a demon or vampire and she'd thrown herself on her back to avoid getting kicked in the face, he could simply jump on her and tear her throat out or - in the vampire case- bite her and suck out all her blood. So she groaned and said, "Yes, I know. I should've backed off and dragged my knife through your gorgeous face and walked away while you sit here screaming and laughed about it while I shower and go to sleep." Dakota stood and smiled innocently at him.

He regarded her with concealed impatience in his lavender eyes and smiled back with sarcasm. "I see you've found the gory, creative mind of a Nephilim. All you need now is the cooperation between your mind and body to make those things happen. If you hate me enough to want to cut my face open, do it."

Dakota wiped the smile off her face at this. "I'm not stupid enough to try it."

"Why not?" Joel tilted his head. His eyes hinted at a challenge.

"You know what I want to do and you've had two years of training. That's not a fair fight. You'd kill me." Dakota replied.

"Five." he said when she turned away to get some water.

She looked back at him as she walked. "What?"

"I've trained here for five years. My home was destroyed by demons trying to kill me." Joel explained, staring at the mat, twirling a knife between his fingers.