Developing Wings on the Way Down

A clawed hand reached over the side of the bed from beneath, curious. Fingers felt the edge of a foot before retreating to the body owning them. The creature raised an eyebrow and stared at it's hand. What is this? The feeling of contact was uncommon and unknown to the beast. What IS this? After a long internal debate, the immortal extended his arm up to feel the sensation again unaware of the fact he was being watched, although not by frightened eyes. His senses tingled in heightened confusion. He couldn't find what he had felt before. Above him, the teenager was narrowly avoiding the hand. The frantic search was amusing him. Years of Fangoria were enough preparation to make him unafraid, void the thump of his heart. As he scooted his foot, he studied the hand. It was not unlike most, only slightly distorted. He swallowed hard, willing himself to hold still, inches from the foreighn claws. When it finally found what it searched for, it curled around his ankle. Not in an alarming way, feeling. Below, the demon stared blankly ahead of him, his sight was not important at the time, his touch was all the interest. His heightened senses were agitating him, taking in the whole room instead of focusing on what he was most curious about. The human. Despite any belief a normal mortal would have, he did not want to harm the human. He was told that he would have instinct to do his job, to kill, to cause the death of the mortal.

He was told he would feel angry. He was told a lot. None of it was deemed true. He was nothing but curious. What. Is. This?

That had been the first night. He had been told to observe the mortals habits before going in for the ending. A bit of a precaution. On the second night, he didn't dare do any more than he had before, and did not intend to. After about an hour of watching the area around and sitting still, letting all his senses lay out a flat monitor of the room, he diligently sent an hand slowly for what he had felt before. His hand once again had to search, although not as much, until it found the same feature. When he felt it, all the pent up curiosity he had gained over the time he was gone returned and a million questions ambushed his thoughts. With the hell-reliant life the reaper was thrust into, a new thing to explore was almost a comfort. He had served his sentence in hell for twelve years now. He vaguely remembered anything from the mortal lifestyle, let alone how he himself even looked. All he knew is that he looked the same as he did in death. It would be utmost helpful if he could remember that either. Reflective serfaces don't exist in hell so he went off of what he could see and feel. When he reached for his head, he felt a spiky line down the middle of his head, and a fringe that often attacked his eye at it's own will. On his left arm, an array of tattoos he had studied for many hours wound the skin. When he laced his fingers, the word BOOKWORM made it's self visible. When his jeans hung low from a lack of belt, he could see two masked swallows staring up at him... He changed his focus from his own image and back to the task at hand. His eyes trekked the crowded room, seeing an array of sketch books and pencils in a corner with a waste basket and a tangle of shoes and clothes in another place. Take note that along with this, his hand was still on the foot above him. Once again, the boy watched silently. He had formed a plan over the day and was not one for patience, although he was scared. He wanted to see. He was, in fact, one for wanting to know everything about a subject once he gets enthused. He had taken everything into consideration and found the fact his bed was an old futon as an advantage in the plan. When he felt the time was right, he lept from his bed and flung up the lower half of the contraption that is his in one fluid motion. As if on a spring, the unknown ( to him ) creature leapt clumsily to the other side of the room, in all the shock charcoal wings spreading to full length from their former folded hiding place behind his back as they let out a simultaneous and startled cry.