Even A Demon Can Make A Snow Angel (Tempest)

The winter storm hit New York City with full force. The streets were blanketed in a thick layer of snow, and the wind howled through the towering skyscrapers. The city that never slept was suddenly hushed, as if the snowflakes were muffling all sound. People scurried to find shelter from the cold, but the snow was coming down too fast, and it was impossible to escape its icy grasp. Taxis and cars were stranded in the middle of the roads, their wheels spinning helplessly. The only sounds were the crunching of boots in the snow and the occasional honk of a car horn until even that grew quiet.

The snow continued to fall, and the wind picked up, causing the snowflakes to dance and swirl in the air. Was that a spirit taking form or just a collection of flakes swirling in an errant gust? Did that whistle signal Jack Frost’s playful flight over midtown and the financial district? Downtown the buildings that once looked so imposing were now just hazy shapes in the distance, obscured by the blizzard.

Yet in the heart of the city, the storm was not going to stop the determined few. In Central Park, a couple walked hand in hand, their faces rosy from the cold. They were laughing and joking, not caring about the snow or the cold, just happy to be together. They’d get home eventually. In a nearby café, a group of friends huddled around a table, sipping hot cocoa and playing cards, while a lone musician played his guitar, the soft notes warming their refuge.

Abruptly in the darkest of the night - the true witching hour well past midnight - those still awake saw the storm suddenly break. Whipping winds and white out conditions became gently circling flurries. A few years back, five was it, there’d been a similar storm and gradually it abated as two individuals wandered with a focus of helping the city weather the weather. LIke then it didn’t take long for the city to start to come back to life. The snowplows came out, clearing the roads and sidewalks, and the taxis and cars began to move again. The city was still blanketed in white, but it was soon again dotted with lights, shining bright in the darkness.

Something crashed down on the two feet of snow atop Haven’s penthouse patio. It groaned with exhaustion, a black robed demon sprawling out with weak chances of forming any sort of angel. His black peacoat was soaked through and torn. The dark locks of his hair were plastered to his face. Even darkness claimed the entirety of his eyes, but it like the storm soon began to fade. Brilliant blue looked upon the snow-covered patio and sealed hot tub with joyful memory.

He sat up, rolling his head and neck in a stretch as he did so. While there’d been a cleaning staff hired to maintain and dust, the fatigued creature knew there would be work to do. There was no rest for the wicked, not that he expected to sleep tonight anyway. It’d taken so long to bid the blizzard dissipate. It was so much easier with Muse’s help… Everything was.

Up to his feet he went, going for the door and fumbling in his coat for the keys. It was here somewhere… Interior pocket? No. A honk in the distance caught his attention, his head snapping to the side to look for the origin. He smirked; he had to remember he was back in the city. It was majestic, but it was also loud. He walked the few yards to the edge of the roof and gazed out.

New York was transformed into a winter wonderland, and the people who called it home were either resting peacefully now or exploring, filled with a sense of joy and appreciation for this beautiful, snowy night. The storm may have brought chaos and disruption to the city, but it also brought a sense of wonder and magic… Magic that Devon intended to learn more about.

Tempest was home.