Christmas Day. A holiday in the mortal realm that celebrated the birth of their savior, and one that Aurelius himself had participated in when he was alive way back in 180 AD. But now that he was dead, and a demon for that matter, the day held a different meaning. Christmas Day, between Heaven and Hell, was the one day of the year that the two different realms would come together and mingle. Of course, the demon vermin would not be allowed to set foot in Heaven, so the angels would descend to them instead, gracing the pathetic kind with their presence. Aurelius scoffed to himself, stooping over in the shallow water of his lake to dip his labor-sweaty hair in it and shake it out.

"Damn angels. Treatin the day like a chore."

He muttered, and gently washed over his whip wounds on his back. At least the day meant he wouldn't have to work today, even if he was going to be looked at like a zoo animal by the pricks up Above.