Most of Elijah's evenings were monotonous — boring even, as he liked to call them.
If he wasn't preparing to wade into some demonic mess, he was buried in research about one.
It was surprising, and quietly disheartening, how common such cases had become in recent years. Too many corrupted souls and too easy to fall into temptation.
Among this madness, he allowed himself a few pauses.
Like tonight, sitting in the guest room of Alexei's absurdly elegant condo, staring through the glass wall at the city below.
The wind brushed against it, rattling faintly. Tiny raindrops clung stubbornly to the pane before sliding down, melting into others until no one could tell them apart.
It was oddly therapeutic.
The sunrise would probably be beautiful to look at from here.
But sunrise meant another day. Another night. Another day again.
The endless cycle.
Yet he hadn't changed much at all.
People sometimes told him he'd grown up 'pretty well.'
