Saints & Sinners

“Subject seems to have abnormal muscle structure around canines, which would have increased his jaws' crushing capacity... almost as if he used it to puncture something with his teeth,” the doctor muttered, using a scalpel to cut open the chalkd-dried gums to get a closer look at the muscle.

“Too bad his body got punctured before he could use them,” a man to her right grunted. He was examining the large slit in the cadavers chest, directly above the heart. Other doctors were making observations, prodding, poking, and cutting in several places, looking the corpse over in great detail. The silence in the autopsy room was hardly ever broken, unless there was a discovery. Before they had finished, another man came rushing in through the silver doors at one end of the room. He was dressed in classical blue robe of a doctor, and was holding several vials of blood in his hands.

“I think you need to see the results of the samples,” the man said shakily, handing each person around the table a vial, and then rummaging around in his pockets. He gasped for breath, withdrawing a slip of paper covered in black writing, which he then passed to a doctor. After reading it with wide eyes, the doctor passed it to another, until it finally arrived at the female doctor.

“This can’t be accurate… how can a man have every blood type in his body?” the woman said in disbelief. Shrugging, the team of doctors went back to work on dissecting the corpse, unaware that over seven floors above, they were being watched.

Valion had his head firmly pressed against the concrete floor of the roof, his real eye closed. His bionic was whizzing about in its socket, looking in every direction, including out the back of his head. Shuddering as the x-ray vision revealed his own brain, the angel focused once more on the autopsy going on below him.

I think this one is truly dead, no half demonic creature would resurrect after this long…

Well, I doubt he will come back after you jabbed him in the heart. You know that leaving a mark is forbidden, R.V grunted, a serious tone in is voice.

Have you been going through my memory again? The rules set down for an avenging angel, well, they aren’t really rules, more like guidelines.

Satisfied that the vampire was indeed truly dead, Valion blinked, watching as the black and white x-ray vision was replaced with his normal vision. Shivering from the cold of the night, the angelic being wrapped his overcoat more firmly around him, and pulled his hood up.

Do we have anymore pre-determined slayings left tonight?

No, Magnus was the last one. You don’t have anything scheduled for another two days. So you can rest up, and perhaps try and find a new weapon…

Despite the harsh tone with which his counterpart spoke to him, Valion laughed, glad at least that he would never be alone. Spreading his wings from underneath the coat that hid them with slight difficulty, the angel took flight, disappearing into the night within moments.

~

Furling his wings before he was anywhere near the floor, Valion let himself fall, the air rushing past him. Landing with a thump, the angel glanced down to see that the pavement had cracked. Shaking himself to get rid of any moisture that might have accumulated while he was flying, the angelic being made his way to the black, three-storey building in front of him. Instead of using the door, the angel simply jumped, propelling himself upwards to a first floor window, which was conveniently open. Slipping through with slight difficulty, Valion grumbled as he noticed the severely low temperature. His breath vaporized before his eyes.

“He’s been messing with the room sensors again, hasn’t he?”

In every room except yours, Nyles, and Sudran’s, the elf has turned the room sensors to below zero.

Grumbling, the angelic being made his way through the building, stopping only so often to jump over a large patch of ice. After ten minutes and two floors, Valion arrived at a simple white door. Like the one back in the Dome, it had his name inscribed upon it, but but wasn't nearly as durable. Pushing it open, the angel immediately felt a wave of hot air hit him, warming him up only for a few moments before the cold of the building invaded his private sanctum. Closing the door behind him, Valion shed his overcoat, his wings unfurling as soon as it was gone.

I’m taking a vacation from all this killing I do, for the moment anyway. I can just relax, and wait for my two days to pass…

Flopping onto his bed with an unceremoniously large jump, the angelic being sighed, wrapping his quilt around him in an attempt to grow warm. Looking up at the ceiling, his thoughts immediately turned to his would-be wife and son, and of course, his father.

You will see them again before we pass through another millennia, and you know what will be needed to accomplish… my removal from you. R.V. muttered. It was an obvious attempt to cheer up his counterpart by talking about his own destruction. Taking solace in the fact, the angel rolled over, falling asleep within moments.

~

Overhead, seven beings watched the angel move from a light sleep to a demon-induced nightmare.

He must undergo this task alone.

If he does so, he will truly die, even if the darkness in his soul is contained…

The darkness, yes. It is growing within him, and Hadriel grows restless, eager to become a sentient mind.

We send the seven with him, and hopefully, they will help him to regain the soul of the eighth.

However, they are scattered through time and around the globe. How do we gather them to the temple?

We let our lambs gather themselves to rejoin and become a herd, and Valion must be the shepherd. Give him the knowledge of the temple, and of the seven.

What about the seven? Do they deserve no warning either?

That will be for each being here to decide. If they want to warn their seventh, then so be it.

Dispersing like the stars they were, the seven beings left the morning sky, leaving the fallen angel with two gifts: knowledge and hope.

Nothing was as it should be, and it seemed that even fate could not control the outcome of the monumental event. Karaza looked on, wide eyed and mouth hanging open in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.” His words were spoken, but they resounded without actual noise. They seemed to echo in his mind above the roar of all that was happening around him.

He couldn’t comprehend that what he was seeing was actually happen, yet he couldn’t think of anything that said otherwise. He was standing in what seemed to be mist. White, thin mist. Above him was the night sky, littered with glowing stars and a thin, crescent moon. He could just barely manage to see through the thin sheet of mist that he was magically hovering above. Far below him he could just make out snow, lots of snow.

He continued to look around, images fading in and out of his vision. Where was he, and how was he flying? He wasn’t aiding his flight in any way with his telekinesis, so why was he suspended in the air? More importantly, where was he? He knew that he wasn’t where he should be, but he couldn’t remember where he should be.

Something caught Karaza’s attention as he was lost in thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of silver, and when he turned there were to warriors, each with two large, feathery wings protruding from their upper backs. One was holding a large sword and had long, flowing hair of a light purple color. The man holding the sword swung and the other warrior, a woman with short, white hair, moved out of the way so that Karaza had to move backwards to avoid being hit.

It didn’t take Karaza long to figure out that he was seeing angels combat. But how was he seeing this? Was it a dream? The two who Karaza had seen fighting faded away into nothingness, and then, a bit farther into the distance, Karaza saw two more figures appear. The man with the long, purple hair reappeared, but was fighting another man with shoulder length black hair. The black haired man wielded a beautiful silver bow, and was using it to block attacks from the other angel's sword. He then flew backwards and unleashed an arrow, which narrowly missed the other, younger man.

Then both men faded away. Karaza was beginning to wonder if what he was seeing was actually a dream. He was seeing angels fight inside of what seemed to be a thin cloud above a very snowy land. They would appear in front of his eyes, struggle for a moment, and then fade back into the crisp night air, leaving no trace whatsoever except for memory.

Again, the young man with the purple hair and large smile on his face reappeared. This time he was struggling against two other angels, a man with short green hair, and a woman with long silver hair. He noticed that all the angels were wearing white clothes and wondered if that meant something. Other groups of angels were appearing all around him, but it was only the purple haired angel and his opponents that ever stayed visible for a long time.

The young warrior drew his sword and swung it at his two foes, who had their backs turned to Karaza, and there was a mighty gust of wind that followed that Karaza could feel. It was the first thing he could feel of his dream. He noticed that he was colorless, while everything else seemed to be perfectly normal. He also noticed that he could not interact with the cloud he stood in no matter how hard he tried. He was like a ghost, but that one angel could produce wind that he could actually feel and interact with. Why?

Again, the man with purple hair faded away, both of his opponents doing the same. Karaza heard someone appear behind him, so he turned around, noting that his telekinesis could still affect his own body. There was the man who had made the wind, staring down a particularly threatening male angel with brown hair. The other angel’s wings were much larger than his own, and his overall body was larger. The purple haired man smiled a carefree grin and raised his hand to his enemy. Karaza could actually see the wind start to form around his hand. It looked like tiny, translucent streamers that moved quickly and faded after a few seconds.

The larger angel laughed at this, and Karaza could hear him laugh; hear him mock the smaller man. Suddenly, there was a great eruption of wind and Karaza’s hair flickered in front of his face under its force. There was a great swirling ball in the smaller man’s hand, and it grew more powerful with each second. Karaza was stunned to see the ball fly forward at the threatening angel with great speed and force. As it moved, so did the direction of the wind that tugged at Karaza.

The ball connected with the other angel’s chest, and he was sent flying off of his feet, but then faded away, as did the other angel. Karaza turned back around as he felt a presence behind him. There was no one there, and that struck him as odd. All the groups of battling angels had stopped appearing, and he was alone for the first time since the dream had commenced. It was then that he saw the figure slowly appear in front of him. The angel that he had kept seeing over and over again; the angel that he had been drawn to, was standing right in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes with a happy, laidback smile on his face.

Karaza felt dizzy, and his eyes slowly closed. The world around him went black, and he suddenly became aware of his own existence again. He opened his eyes to find that he was once again atop the skyscraper that he had went to sleep on. What a dream. He hopped up, noticing that it would soon be morning. He decided it would be best to fly down to the ground and get something to eat before the city awoke.

There was somebody else on the rooftop, Karaza was sure of it. He just noticed it then, but it was unmistakable. He spun around and looked to see if he could find a figure pressed against the dark morning sky, but to no avail. Not exactly wanting to ask if anyone was there, he continued to walk along as if nothing had happened, but that’s when he heard his visitor. A soft trail of thuds against the cement of the roof.

“In we go!” Karaza heard someone whisper into his right ear. He turned to see who was behind him, but found instead a swirling white hole suspended in the air. He could see inside the portal, but saw nothing but a pulsating maze of white. It seemed endless. He then realized what was about to happen, and turned around as quickly as he could, only to feel two feet come colliding down against his abdomen. He was sent flying into the tunnel, and found that his telekinesis was worthless inside of it. After a few seconds of being inside, the pressure caused him to pass out.

He woke up in what seemed to him to be hours, and found that he needed to rest to gain some strength. It would take only a few minutes, but he really couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He was lying in something soft - and cold.

Who turned down the heat?

OoC - I hope I did alright with the description of my angel. If at all possible, will I get to name him, as well?

“Mmm,” Tanith sighed happily. The sensation of floating, and dreaming in general, always made her feel at ease. Though, it was slightly odd that she even knew she was actually dreaming. Or the fact that I have fallen into that deep of a slumber, she reminded herself. Being a hunter of dark beings, most came out at night. Thus, she usually only slept lightly to avoid being taken completely by surprise. However, this feeling was more than delightful and the female wanted to remain suspended for as long as the dream would hold.

Suddenly, a sharp and bitter wind blew right over her. Startled, and worried about an enemy, she immediately stood up. Or what would be close when floating in mid-air. Before her was a partially cloudy, night sky. The stars and a three-fourths moon were visible at different intervals as the clouds drifted around, ones dark with rain and storm. Her mouth opened at the spectacle but the only thing that came out was a soundless gasp. Tanith looked around, trying to find anything that might be floating with her in the eventide. A flash in one of the clouds caught her attention and, before she could dismiss it as mere lightning, a form came sweeping out of it. The being could only be described as an angel. He stood taller than most humans and, though his body was not bulging with muscles, he was lean and fit. The angel wore a simple garment, a Roman toga that fell over one shoulder and secured by a rope belt across his waist. His hair was a light, almost-white blue color. It wasn’t longer than most men’s but it was a tad thicker. In each hand, he held a sword. They were small broadswords, each with a light blue handle and silver-colored blades. Runic symbols were inscribed on the blades, a language that the woman had no knowledge about. However, the most stunning feature was the angel’s wings. They were brilliant, near-glaring white. The feathers were not the soft kind portrayed by many pictures but firm and solid, build for use instead of beauty. His last feature was a fierce yet silent wind circling around him.

The angel’s icy blue eyes darted back and forth, alert for any kind of movement. Two other forms, angels as well, darted out of the cloud the first angel had originally come from. They, too, wielded swords, though only one each. They attacked from both sides but where met by the individual blades. Amazingly, the first angel fended off both attacks on both sides, each sword working independently of the other. It would take years to learn just how use two at the same time but independently was unheard of by the female. I suppose, he is an angel, though, Tanith reminded herself. They were powerful beings and the helpers of God, of course they would be powerful. A twinge of fear found itself in the woman’s mind and her gaze turned to the sword that hung at her side. Afraid of something holy? she asked it with a disgusted tone. Soul Eater was a malevolent sword so why shouldn’t it be afraid? Though, the knight couldn’t deny that she, too, was slightly frightened by this display.

Focusing on the battle once more, she saw that the wind surrounding the first angel had intensified. A white mist had appeared in it and seemed to condense. It solidified into glassy shards which impaled themselves into the opposing angels, spilling blood into the sky. This time, she let out an audible gasp. The angel’s face took on a confused expression and he turned to where the woman was floating. Their eyes met and suddenly she was looking at the darkness of a worn mattress. What? she asked, slightly dazed by the suddenly change in scenery. Did that angel see me?, she asked then quickly rebuked herself, No, that’s ridiculous. It was just a dream. Her hand instinctively reached upwards on the bed until it felt a cold sheath. Even though she hated that sword, Tanith couldn’t deny that she felt somewhat safer knowing she could use it right away if anything came after her. She slowly stirred and sat up. The knight was completely clothed as she hardly undressed at any time unless it was to wash, which was a luxury she couldn’t afford at the moment. She yawned slightly and looked to the side of her bed at the inn. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, Tanith knew someone was beside her bed. Before she could even grab her sword’s hilt, a hand wrapped itself around her neck and hoisted her into the air. A light appeared behind her and she was thrown directly into it. Bright whiteness surround her and then she was thrust on her back into something cold yet soft. “Goodness,” she muttered, not even having time to think. Sitting up, she realized that she had landed in snow. Curious, the knight looked around, noticing two other people with her. Shivering a bit from the cold, she stood up and brushed the crystalized water off herself.

OoC: I was going to post in Daughter of the Encorna before this but I couldn't resist myself.

BiC:

Slumber’s mystical veil lay heavily across the ancient fallen angel’s sight, its magical touch tampering with the subconscious, manifesting deluded images to entertain an idle mind. Slumber’s subtle guidance had gently carried the angel’s unconscious mind into a distant land. Tall, dark mountains encased an empty, russet wasteland. Small patches of white riddled the deep valleys that lay hidden within the mountains’ steep slopes. The stark whiteness seemed sacred when surround by the blackness that had imprisoned the land. The bleak sky was blotted out from sight by an opaque covering of dark, ominous clouds. Dim starlight radiated from the ancient stars that hung, unseen, behind the curtain of deep-purple cloud, the soft brightness fell glumly apon the harsh landscape. A colossal, silver moon floated high above the dark land, its immense size still seeming oppressive even when the perplexing distant from which it was being viewed was present. The silver sheen produced a dim light, similar to that of the shy stars. No sound could be heard fragmenting the eerie silence, which seemed to have the land tight within its grip. Not even the whisper of the wind dared disturb the darkness.

Mesfido lay floating above the world, his body a shimmering silver that seemed to lack any of the properties of a solid substance. The angel’s wings lay folded against his muscular back, just as they had been when slumber’s hand had come apon him. His three plaits lay gently across his gaunt face, the odd silver colour amplifying the ever-present tiredness that lingered in his eyes. The fallen angel’s eyes darted across the skies and earth, searching for anything, any sign of existence.

A sudden bolt of lightning ripped open the purple clouds, its bright tip scorching the dry land. The growl of thunder tore silence’s grip open, making a path where the clashes of metal against metal could walk. Another flash of lightning sliced through the clouds, dragging something with it. An ear-shattering crack filled the air, the muscular body of an angel was slammed against the hard earth; its body was singed and scorched as the lightning tore at its chest. The holy being lay motionless beneath Mesfido’s face, the fallen angel’s eyes gazed over the lifeless corpse, sorrow welling up in the pit of his stomach. His gaze instantly flickered away as he heard the sounds of a fierce battle raging above. Through his sight he saw two angels, hammering their swords together, attempting to rip the other to pieces. Mesfido’s acute eyes focused in on the smallest of the pair, the one with his back to the fallen angel.

The angel seemed young, his frame still not quite as built out as that of a full grown man yet he seemed strong and fit, easily keeping up with his opponent. Long blonde hair flowed gracefully behind the angelic warrior as he swung his blade, the golden threads bound tightly within the embrace of a thin braid that trailed far past the man’s lean waist. Next to the angel’s intricately woven plait lay a pair of long, slender wings, their pure white feathers rustling as they beat forcefully through the dense air. Around his chest, the angel wore a modest white vest, its ends tucked into a thin belt that was clasped about his waist, holding up a pair of long, baggy, tan coloured trousers. The angel continued to fight, his sword flashing at amazing speeds, deflecting every blow sent at its master.

Mesfido eyes stared at the blade, trying to keep up with its movements as it whirled about at seemingly impossible speeds. The blade seemed familiar, the way it moved, the way it sang. The fallen angel was certain he knew it. Suddenly, the flash from another bolt of lightning filled the sky. It hadn’t come from the clouds.

The young angel stood silent, beating his wings just above the ground, smoke rising from his blade, a smoldering corpse at his feet. The angel’s back was still turned to Mesfido, his eyes gazing down below him at the pitiful corpse. Gently lowering himself to the ground, the angel knelt at the side of the man he had just killed. He dropped his weapon to the ground, placing a slender fingertip apon the demised angel’s open eyelid, slowly closing it over.

The youth rose to his feet, his head bowed. Mesfido could feel the sorrow that radiated from the angel, its intensity almost painful. Suddenly the angel turned, Mesfido’s eye fell on the angelic being’s face for the first time.

Sapphire orbs gazed into Mesfido cobalt eyes, tears lining them. Realization hit Mesfido as he plummeted back into reality; slumber releasing his hold on the fallen angel.

He is just a boy... Who would subject a child to such horrors?

Mesfido was back in the Dome, his eyes staring blankly out over the moonlit gardens. The boy’s sorrowful eyes were imprinted within his mind, their tears awaking sorrow within the fallen angel’s own mind.

Something snapped the angel’s mind to reality, away from his thoughts. There was something with him, watching, waiting. Slowly, Mesfido closed over his eyes, searching for the elements just as Kenjin had taught him. A patch of colour came into view. It was too late.

The colour struck, its heels smashing into the angel’s chest, sending him flying backwards towards a thick, stone wall. He never hit it. An empty whiteness surrounded Mesfido, carrying him backwards away from the gardens that were quickly fading before him.

The fallen angel fell to the ground, snow meeting his fingertips. It was freezing, too cold. Silently, the angel used his small mastery of the Crimson Blood, increasing his body heat as to make the bone-chilling weather bearable. Mesfido gazed up from the thick snow, taking in his surroundings. He was atop a high mountain, ice and a bleak whiteness covering everything. His blue eyes flickered, jumping to something in the corner of his eye. In the distant there was something, something ancient, something that shouldn’t have been there. A temple.

A thought jumped into the fallen angel’s mind. A frown lined his forehead; his eyes gazed down at the ground.

It cannot be, it is nothing more than a myth.

OoC: Angel, if there's a problem with my angel being a youth, just let me know. By the way, if nobody else posts soon-I'll hunt you all down, personally.

OoC: IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM JUST YELL 'TARTER SORCE'

It had always been as such- sleeping. A vampire relished sleep just as freely as other living being- not only did it rapidly heal fatal wounds that would leave an ordinary human helpless, but it soothed their mind, calming their thoughts. The magic-wielders would find their source replenished. The warriors would find their wounds healed, and the vampire would relish the fact that it could enjoy both of these luxuries. Yes…Sleeping was good for a vampire.

So thought Ahavalin as he floated through his dream- The vampire’s seemingly fragile body drifting through the ethereal clouds of another world. His mind was soothed, and his mentality was in pure bliss. Nothing would disturb him at this moment…

Ahavalin frowned, a rush of complex thoughts erupting into his head. yet, they’ll be after us, surely…

Nevertheless, the troubled nosferatu slept on, throwing away all his worries and fears. His mind started to lapse into a deep sleep, Ahavalin grinning foolishly as it did so.

A large clang echoed through the plane of dreams, shattering his newfound peace. Enraged, Ahavalin got to his feet (though what he was standing on was a mystery) and unsheathed his dagger, twisting his head to see where the unwelcome sound has arisen from. The vampire creased his eyebrows into a frown, relaxing his grip on the hilt of the cursed blade. He could distinctly make out figures through the fog, but he couldn’t quite discern as to what they were. He stared through smoke-like miasma, narrowing his eyes to get a look, though they were gone. Ahavalin felt a twinge at the back of his neck and spun round, his eyes alert for activity. This time, he could see something.

Two figures were fighting. This time Ahavalin could identify what they were- elaborate garments with intricate designs were draped around their bodies, and beautiful white wings extended from their back, increasing the magnitude of the situation tenfold.

Angels…

Ahavalin started to grow slightly excited, though remained still. It was a dream, after all, and if he was found in the same place as an angel he would probably faint. The only descriptions of angels he had heard was when he was a small child, and that was so long ago he could barely remember it.

The two angels in the distance carried on their duel, shining silver swords clashing against each other in a desperate struggle for their honour. Ahavalin watched in interest as a red headed angel gained the upper hand, ruthlessly battering against the sword of his opponent until the blade snapped. The other angel, who had long purple hair, was forced to the ground, holding a hand up as if to signal a truce. The red hair simply grinned malevolently and thrust his weapon through the angel’s heart, causing both of them to disappear.

Ahavalin stared at the empty space the two warriors had previously been, mystified as to where they had gone. He had a sudden thought at the back of his mind and spun around to see three more angels battling, the fight much more ferocious than the other. A blue haired angel and a silver haired one were both locked in a dance of death, their blades swinging perilously through the air. An angel with long dark brown hair stood by the sidelines, his face contorted into a look of anguish as each fighter scored a hit on each other. The angel held a blade of his own in his hand, though he looked unprepared for any attack.

With a ferocious yell, the blue angel swiped towards his opponent. The silver haired one leapt forward at the wrong time; his opponent’s blade met with the silver angel’s throat, causing blood to splatter everywhere. The wounded being choked and clutched its throat, blood slowly trickling out of its mouth.

The brown haired angel finally stepped in, leaping in from the sidelines to kneel before the silver angel, who was now at its knees. The brown haired angel extended his hand out across the throat, stemming the blood a little. A bright silver blow shone from the angel’s hand like moonlight causing the other angel to back away in surprise.

When the shining ceased, there was no wound left on the angel’s throat. It remained unmarked, as if nothing had come into contact with it.

The silver-haired angel started to step away, frightened by the prospect of fighting a fully revived opponent. The blue-haired angel rose to its feet, drawing his white wings around him to show that he was ready. However, the angel that had healed him threw an arm across his chest. Ahavalin recognised this as a subtle signal to stay back.

The brown haired angel was gathering something in its hands- it looked almost green, though the colours started to swirl and mix with others until it finally settled on a chestnut brown. With one final grimace, the angel hurled the magic at the blue-hair, sending him five feet into the air.

Ahavalin watched as the two warrior angels disappeared, cleared of their duties. He watched as their bodies dissolved into nothing. He then watched as the remaining angel turned, and looked him straight in the eye.

Ahavalin woke with a start, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. The surprised vampire had never encountered a dream like that before- it was surreal, how the fighter had almost had a link to him…

The pondering nosferatu did not have time to think on the subject further. A white hand grabbed him by the collar and sent him hurtling into a white tunnel that had appeared from thin air.

Crystal mists and glassy founts rolled before her groggy eyes—through the silver haze that spread like rolls of net along the surface of a river, a figure took shape and walked along the lee shore.

She could not give name to the figure, though she sat among the clouds and watched it, lashes bent against the rain. Thoughts passed vague and musingly through her mind, departing, as they came, without indentation. They hardly ever left their impressions now, since bitterness had plunged its rotting arms into the ambergris of her meditations and tainted the substance. She had given up the art of reasoning, had let herself drift like some wretched, Celtic Ophelia through the rivers of her bitterness… because…

She, Amaranthine, had watched the faeries at their toadstool rings last evening, footing the earth with practised step, celebrating those things faeries held so dear. But she, the mirthless halfling, violated by iron, shaken from the true faery's apathy—she had lain coiled among the hawthorns, powerless to join, as her mother's own people would not have her.

Actually, things were not as bad as she would have them, Amaranthine privately mused, as she lay at the base of a hawthorn tree, recoiling from the touch of sleep while the horizon grew blind beyond the grove. The faeries she had watched dancing last night had not wanted her to join them only because she was too tall; their current and miniscule heights did not allow for her bigness. That alone did not distress her. It was the fact the ground of faeries had offered no explanation beyond that given, nor gave her assurances of later meetings. It was due to this that Amaranthine's ire had lifted its searing head, that the sidhe, bitter now, had stalked from their green fires and back to the road. Faeries could care less if they upset someone, be it one of their own or some hapless mortal. But Amaranthine had not yet learned to tolerate their apathy. She had been nursed upon human emotions and could not understand those of her fay ancestry, though she thirsted for them as people thirst for fancied objects only tantalizingly glimpsed.

Amaranth pressed her folded arms to her chest and pulled further against the mismatched bole.

It was not fair that the faeries did not appreciate her, tall and half-human as she was. She shut her eyes, though it did her no good to feign indifference. Her expulsion would haunt her even unto the secret spaces of her mind, as it had wakened something entrenched within her passionate heart.

Amaranth squeezed her eyes tighter, gritting her teeth.

She must forget, or sleep would never come. It would linger in the hoof-churned earth that presently dug into her ribs; it would lurk and not come till Aurora had flung wide the gates of heaven, and let spill the sunrays upon the sightless horizon. Such was Amaranth's fate—insomnia—it would haunt her and become infused with her being, just as the water that crept from the pocketed earth beneath her swelled from hidden depths and drenched her tunic. Insomnia would rise upon the wings of Morpheus, clutching that demigod's bag of dreams, from which night visions of water and angels would flow.

Her vision was beginning to waver.

Frowning, she watched the spirit of sleeplessness shake its baggy satchel before her eyes, watched as angels swept on frosted wings from sun-swept palaces, weapons gleaming in their fists. Amid the glancing clouds, she caught glimpses of faces, grave, almost apprehensive. Aureoles lay plaited among their fierce, heavenly locks; they gleamed with such intensity that Amaranth was compelled to look away.

She found she was sitting upright, hemmed by crystal mists, seated upon a glassy fount. And as her eyes fell from the angels, and into a white abyss of light, she saw a river, purling against the half-sunken bank. She saw a ray of light, darted from heaven: a sunbeam that unbent, like a man risen from slumber, a sunbeam that strode along the lee shore, arms curved above its loosely shaped head. It stumbled from its stretch, flexing its wings—in its indistinct grasp, a weapon formed. Its feathered appendages were beating; heartily, it flung itself into the air. Amaranth shut her eyes against the blinding light, and turned her face to heaven.

She opened them after a while, opened them to a scorching battle that blazed above her. The angel from the lee shore thrust its weapon against one of its many foes—the weapon was a quarterstaff, its endpoint sheathed in barbed steel. It came to Amaranth that the iron did not reek, that it did not trouble her as iron always did. But this was not her waking life, she suddenly realised. The hawthorn grove had vanished, and left the fount, the glass, the mist. It had laid her at the foot of angels.

She rose from her cross-legged position, squinting to obtain a better look at the warring parties above. The vying angels were indistinct, mere bursts of bodily traits against their bleached environment. But the angel of the quarterstaff was clear, a solid work of old ivory dressed in a milky tunic and buskins. His wings gusted robe-like about his massive figure; his staff flashed needle-like through the ether, as though he sewed a rend in the heavens back together again.

It was a desperate struggle. Swords and lancets flickered through the fray; axes met with a peal so loud Amaranth could hear only a small, tinny clash that faded into deafening reverberations. Others of his kind joined the lucid angel; wildly, they pressed their antagonist further toward the groping, wind-torn elflocks of a ledge. She could not see the ledge but could tell it was there, for angels glanced back warily as their feet clung uselessly to the ground. A strange expression twisted the face of her lucid angel; wretched horror, fused with pity, marred his brilliant, ivory-yellow visage. The expression marred because it did not suit his face; a pulse of intuition flood Amaranth's mind, and for a moment, she understood the look. The expression was trained upon a particular angel, more youthful than the lucid one, fierce and unrepentant, struggling against the losing tide. The angel raised a spear, flung it wildly into the crowd. It struck an angel beside the lucid being; silently, the angel fell, its weapon, clattering to the ground, a herald to…

Amaranth paused.

Death?

But could angels die?

The scene faded, and before her rose trees; here again was the rain, same as that which fell in her waking life. The lucid angel had returned, pacing the now gloomy lee shore with tremulous step. She was closer, she marked, so close that when the being lifted its head, it met her eye and she saw its pupils were silver and blue—

She awoke to a presence that stood so close to her head that it blocked the inky horizon.

Amaranth was still confused by her dreams, so that her resistance was little better than futile. She half rose, stiff fingers crunching the grained wood of her quarterstaff, but hands seized her by the hair and shoulder, spinning her about and shoving her forward instantaneously. An ashen portal gaped before her; mouth gaped in protest, and voice stilled by astonishment, Amaranth went tumbling through the tunnel, and was lost to comprehension.


She found herself sprawled, cheek down, in waves of snow moments later. The shock was sudden—a second flashed—she suddenly was aware of the wet, icy pressure upon her side. Her hand still clenched her staff, as though locked; she freed her hold with a slow, agonizing grunt and dragged herself upright. She stood enclosed in a realm of white, where the sky and earth had lost all distinction to uniformity. The shock had passed, and Amaranth's wits fully hers again.

"Well then," she murmured, plucking her staff from the ground, "that was interesting…"

She brought the image of a cloak to mind as she straightened; instantly, she felt the weight of the garment settle upon her shoulders, conjured by Creation. She tucked her staff beneath her arm and pulled the cloak more tightly about her chest—truly, it was unfortunate she had never gotten a steady look at the furred mantles affluent persons had a tendency to wear; they looked as though they would do her a spot of good. She stood upon an incline, and glanced up—not far distant, she descried a group of figures, clouded against the fleecy sky.

Amaranth started toward them—then paused.

Something lay against the horizon, something peaked, black—and now it was white. She had caught its opaque image, just before its colour paled and veiled itself among the snows.

"A temple," she whispered. "Well then. This, truly, shall be interesting."

She had forgotten the faeries.

She had forgotten her bitterness.


OoC: I suppose I am the last then, eh? ((Thanks Angel!))

OoC: Two words: I'm sorry. Hopefully I can keep up with the talent that posted before me.

BiC: Kawaii lay in a pleasant slumber, the mind in her hollow head traveling the infinite scape of dreamland. Under a palm on the ocean shore she rested, her waking ambition having gave way to the blissful calm of sleep. For it was the gentle rolling of the waves, and the airy swish of the tropical trees that lulled her mind into this bliss, this calm. But as it turned out, it was her fate to sleep, to dream, this night.

In her dreams, Kawaii was flying. With her arms spread wide and feet straight back, she soared through the clouds, wearing a smile that stretched from one ear to the other. “Wee!” she cried out, much like any child would, “Look at me! I’m a bird! I’m flying!” All around her, the creamy mountains of white mist, that were the clouds, moved slowly toward her and then away as she passed them by. Even with the dim light of the crescent moon, she could see these mountains go on into the distance forever. But with the peak in front of her in mind, she sped up, and with a large white poof, she shot right into it. Giggling as the little water droplets hit her wooden body; she ascended through the light gray of the clouds interior, each moment inside tickling her as much as the last. Coming out of the other side, she felt the cold touch of the wind against her wet hair and clothes. But she didn’t care, not all dreams were perfect after all.

But now, something was different about her dream. Far below where she was, Kawaii saw a bird. On a pair of wings, pure white in color, a single, innocent dove flew just below the cloud line. Moving even faster than the doll herself, this bird serenely glided toward some unknown destination. Naturally, Kawaii would share the sky, her playful spirit ready to make this solitary avian into a friend. Lowering herself toward her kindred flyer, her view became clearer. No, it wasn’t a dove that she saw, for a single green feather on its crown, and a speckle of brown on its tail, proved it something otherwise. Of course, she wasn’t one to let the little things bother her, so she continued to move closer. In a moment, she was on level with this mysterious bird, with her view now complete. This was neither bird nor animal she was following. This was a man with wings, this was an angel.

With lids opening wide, and a sparkle coming to her eyes, Kawaii sped up, wanting nothing more that to fly alongside this heavenly being. However, her dream had a different design for her. With a sudden gust of wind, a mischievous little cloud blew into the widening gap between the doll and the angel. No longer was the winged man in front of her when the cloud passed, nor was she speeding through the clouds. Now she was above solid ground, or, at least, what appeared to be solid ground. A gray mist carpeted this flat surface, which seemed to go on forever, hiding any sign of what lay beneath. Strange was this field of mist, that its expanse was broken neither by hill nor valley. And empty were its skies, for the angel would not reappear. Confused and unbalanced by this mysterious new land, Kawaii took her initiative to land.

All around there was nothing, nothing but the ground, the moon, and the stars. “Wow,” she said after noticing them for the first time, “The stars look so close here. It almost looks like I could reach out and touch them.” It was upon these words that her dream would truly start. From out of the darkness, her angel faded into view. Short he stood, no more that a mere youth in appearance. With skin almost as pale as the white wings on his back, and clothes like that of the Romans, he appeared close. His bright green hair, short and messy in style, framed a smooth face that would almost rival Kawaii’s own in cuteness. Sword of white in hand, and halo overhead, he floated there above the mist, looking as if he were waiting for something. And just as quickly as the boy had appeared, so had another being: A second angel.

This angel was much larger in stature, almost a giant in the face of his fellow denizen of heaven. Gruff of face, and rusty of hair, he glared angrily at the smaller angel, and unsheathed a sword of his own. Without any apparent reason, he seemed to hate the green haired angel. So it must have been out of this animosity that he attacked. With one smooth motion, he brought his blade above his head and brought it down upon the youth with enough force to sever a limb. He missed. In the blink of an eye, the green haired angel had sidestepped the sword’s deadly touch, and before the larger angel could react, he buried his own sword into his side. For a second, they were motionless, locked in a silent embrace of death. But then, the doomed angel let his weapon drop from his hands and sink into the mist.

Unfortunately, the green haired angel would not have time to feel remorse for what he had just done. More angels, a third, a fourth, and a fifth, began to appear, each armed similarly to the last. With the same anger in their faces as the second angel, they ran at the heavenly youth, ready to tear him apart if he put up a fight. In the face of these odds, it wasn’t surprising that he decided to run. What was surprising was the way he ran. Like a deer he moved, skating along the mists as if there where wheels affixed to his feet. In a moment, the other angels were far behind him, still giving chase despite easily being outmatched. However, the green haired angel felt he didn’t need to run any longer. Stopping, he turned to his pursuers and poured all of his focus into them.

Soon, they were upon him. With only a miniscule gap between him and the swords of the angels, he swung his right arm up toward the sky. Instantly, a lance of crystal shot up from beneath each of the angels, hitting them like an arrow would to an unsuspecting soldier. And with the trio now sore torn by his lances, the green haired angel began to look about for those who would attack him next. As he looked, his gaze passed by the doll, who had been watching the whole time, yet he didn’t seem to know she was there. But, for just a second, their eyes met, and in that second, she knew that he saw her.

Suddenly, Kawaii awoke. Immediately, she found that she was no longer resting beneath a palm near the ocean, but was instead resting on a coral reef under the ocean. Though she was no more than a foot underwater, fish of all kinds swam around her as if she were part of the coral itself. That was, until something broke the water’s surface. Out of the blue, a pair of arms reached down, grabbed her by the armpits, and lifted her up out of the brine. But before she could thank whoever it was, she found herself being tossed away into a shining white light. “Wee!” she cried out as she slid down the swirling tube of light she had been sent to, “This is fun!” Of course, her slide was a very brief one, as in a matter of seconds; she fell out of the tube and into a drift of snow. High atop a mountain she sat, half buried in the drift, with six other dreamers.

The red-headed angel swung his flaming maul through the grey clouds below him as another charged up at him. The attacker was sent spiralling downward toward the charred ground, but was able to recover before he reached it. He and another then teamed up on the fire, one striking with fists, and the other wielding a spiked flail. The pointed ball of steel struck the single angel directly on the joint between his back and one of his bloodstained wings, effectively breaking it.

A confused Latio stood on a small patch of white cloud, listening to the battle. He tried to speak, but the words only echoed in his mind: Why would angels be fighting among themselves? He didn’t have time to finish his thought, for a flail head was heading straight towards his. He tried to move, but found he couldn’t. It would hit him square in the face unless someone did something.

His prayer was answered. The fire angel’s maul flew towards his side, knocking him away from the deadly iron bludgeon, though he was sure at least a few ribs were broken. None were. A dream, then. He found that he had regained control of his body, all muscle restrictions eliminated. He walked to the break in the crimson-stained clouds where the fiery angel fell through. He noticed a minute wisp of smoke, then heard felt something break through the clouds, radiating much heat. Then four others broke through, and once again the angels spilt eachothers blood upon the cloudtops.

The four the red-head opposed now all wielded the same blunt metal clubs and all wore light blue robes, broken neither by scar nor bloodstain. The maul-wielder, however, was covered in blood, battle scars and was very tired. He wore a tattered cinnabar robe with an insignia on the back, resembling a seven-sided polygon containing a seven-pointed star, each point connecting to one of the corners of the polygon.

The blue-garbed men surrounded the one Latio suspected to be in some sort of group, but before they could strike, the red-garbed on threw a small ball of condensed fire at one, which, after a small explosion, incinerated one of the four. The remaining three charged simultaneously, but were each scorched by the remnants of the miniature explosion. The fire embodiment then smote one of the distracted angels off the battle ‘ground’, towards the earth.

The remaining two of the group backed away from the certain victor, each assembling various methods of defeating the angel they opposed. They never had the chance to use them. The fire angel’s wings exploded into flames, and she charged in between the inferiors, effectively slicing straight through their stomachs, then cremating their halves.

Latio noticed then that he was situated between the now-ash warriors, a few feet behind. The last remaining angel was charging at him, maul ready. The foxfolk found himself to be frozen again, as he swung his maul at his head. It blew it off.

The dream suddenly dispersed into the nothing Latio saw to begin with, but there was something that wasn’t there when he fell asleep. An angel. But alongside it was the humming of mechanical bits and pieces. He felt a firm grip lift him by the collar of his now very desaturated leather armour, and was thrown into a gap in reality which the new figure somehow conjured.

He landed with a face full of snow.

OoC: Dreadfully sorry for the major delay. Not good with big posts. And sorry for the lack of character description in his profile. The last pic sucked, and I'm working on a new one. Also, SHORTEST POST.

moveupfourposts.exe

Light and darkness filled his dream, both elements twisted together to become a blurry grey. This new color covered the ground of Valion’s sleeping mind, keeping him from awaking and losing the touch of ones who had bestowed knowledge upon him. Mountains and forests had taken their places in the surroundings, although they went unnoticed by the angel’s eyes. No, his attention was fixed on that which was happening above. Sounds broke through the thin wispy veil of clouds that lingered to block the rays of the sun, and every so often a battle cry would follow them. Valion was puzzled by what was happening, for he was unable to move from his laying position of which he had been in when slumber had first come over him. Suddenly, the clouds parted and light streamed down, revealing the scene above. Seven angels, their bodies too far away for Valion to distinguish who they were, floated above him. Each had a weapon in hand, and each was using it to the best of their ability. Although the seven fought on the same side, they were losing to their foe, who was another angel. The one sided angel seemed to be winning the fight with spectacular ease, but he held no weapon that could be seen by Valion.

The battle raged on, and the fight slowly floated towards the ground until they were only mere meters away from the cybernetic angel. At this time, the one sided angel weapon could be seen, although it was hard to believe what power could create such a weapon. The angel held in his hands a sword, although for every parry he conducted, it changed form. For every stab he made, it changed form. He may have been outmatched, but he was still obviously going to win. Slowly but surely, each fell to their knees, bowing to their superior in defeat. As the last angel fell to his knees, the more powerful angelic being began to laugh. His voice gave the impression that what little sanity he had had long left him. Bringing a sword made purely of darkness into his grasp, the angel pointed it at the head of one angel, one wielding a sword of lightning. Raising the weapon over his head, he made to strike a killing blow. At this moment, Valion let out a gasp of horror. As if he had heard him, the angel looked round, his eyes locking with Valion’s for a split second. This one moment of distraction cost that angel his life, as seven swords pushed themselves into his chest. Blood splattered the ground as the weapons were pushed further into his chest.

“Now, be gone traitor.”

The first words spoken in his dream had come from the lightning wielding angel. His face contorted in pain, the eighth angel gave the one who had spoken a look of pure malice.

“Think you have won, eh? I will be back; my soul is tethered to the planes of existence. Your downfall will come by my hand Haniel, and so will the rest of these angels,” the angel snarled. Before anymore banter could be exchanged, the eighth began to glow. His body slipped from the swords, and floated upwards into the sky. Soon enough, the clouds reached overhead, concealing the light once more. Wanting to see more, Valion watched as each angel sheathed their weapon after they had wiped it of blood. One in particular, the one whom the eighth angel had called Haniel, took great care in doing so.

“Thank you for the assistance Remiel, I know it was hard for you.”

Taken aback by the sudden words, Valion turned to see that one of the seven was speaking to him. If he could see him, then this was no dream, more of a memory.

“It was nothing Chamuel, I was only here to make sure that you did not lose to him. The Creator would not have liked it if his archangels could not even handle their own leader.”

Turning his head to face behind him, Valion found that another angel was stood directly behind him. Even though this battle had probably happened before his own birth, the angel was known to Valion instantly. It was White Vengeance, once the Angel of Death, his father.

As soon as realization hit him, his dream changed. Instead of the peaceful valley, he was stood upon a mountain top. Even though it was a figment of his mind, cold winds whipped past him. Wishing that for once he had worn his overcoat in his sleep, Valion hugged him arms together to try and gain warmth. A shadow passed to his right, much taller than he. Glancing over, the angelic being found it to be an order of monks. Even though they were small and frail looking, each carried a square stone the size of a small house on their backs. None were hindered by their giant burdens, and kept walking forward. Intrigued, Valion followed closely behind.

Soon enough, the angel had found out what the stones were for. The monks had slowly made their way down a slope of the mountain, and had stopped on the edge of what appeared to be a giant crater. More monks were already here, moving stone blocks to form a wall. However, the walls were being built around the crater.

Either to keep people out, or keep something in…

The newly arriving monks took their stones to a nearby unfinished wall, and began to place them down. Suddenly, a bellow like that of a wounded animal echoed through the harsh landscape. It had come from the center of the crater. As if unfazed by the noise, the monks continued assembling the wall. Peeking over the rim of the crater to see what had made such a thunderous sound, Valion found that the eighth angel was laid at the bottom of the crater, bound by chains seemingly crafted of light. He was surrounded by several monks, all of whom held a length of chain that was attached to him. Once again, as he realized who the angel was, his dream changed.

For once, Valion recognized where he was. The Chamber of Fate, a place where sentences against those who had fallen from the Creator’s grace was carried out. It was a huge place, with tiers of seats lining the walls. But in this dream, the entire Chamber was empty, except for the few figures that lingered near the very centre of the room. Once again, the seven angels occupied the centre of Valion’s dream, for as soon as they were recognized by him, his dream state body moved him closer. One angel was dictating to the rest, and his face was that of seriousness and doubt.

“I still not trust that the Seven will even be able to do our duty. I know that we put great faith in the beings of their realm, but some of them are not even true immortals.”

“Gabriel, we cannot linger in this realm any longer, and we will not be able to intervene when Virtus’ slumber ends. We gained a great honor in ascendance, but we sacrificed our free will for it. That is our way, as archangels, we cannot intervene in things that do not concern us any longer,” Haniel spoke silently.

“Remiel’s son will be adequate enough to stop him from rising. Remiel is asking the Creator for permission to perform a spirit mold as we speak. Hopefully, those who we have chosen, combined with Remiel’s son, will be able to stop Virtus,” Chamuel said suddenly. Although Gabriel did nod his head in agreement, his face portrayed his distaste for something that the cyber angel didn’t understand. But before he could continue to ponder, sleep finally let go its grasp upon him, and Valion found himself once more trapped between the folds of his quilt. As the image faded from his mind, other images of other beings appeared. Some he recognized from past exploits, others were unknown. They were obviously the ones that he was supposed to gather to him, like the angels had been talking about.

This quest is yours to undertake. Your eyes can lie to you, trust what you feel with your heart, a voice whispered in his ear, in such a manner that the angel could have sworn that it was no more than a wisp of wind.

Donning his overcoat, Valion flicked his hand over the pendant wrapped around his neck. Instantly, a white hole ripped itself open in front of the angelic being. Stepping through calmly, Valion disappeared from view.

~

Shaking water from his coat, the angel deposited the last member of the Seven onto the mountaintop. All eyes fixed on him, their minds already buzzing with why they were here.

The snow was beautiful. The situation, however, was less than perfect. Karaza had awoken to a most unpleasant visitor, and had been swiftly deposited to a vast, arctic land. He’d done nothing but stood and gazed into the distance. He had heard people arriving, presumably by the same means of travel as he, but he couldn’t manage to pull himself away from the horizon.

Through the massive haze of snow, a figure could be observed. It was incomprehensibly large, and stood towering above all in its land. White in color, it resembled a palace of frosted diamond. Too smooth to be ice, what else could the mind interpret it as? Someone else landed behind Karaza and he turned his head only momentarily.

Someone was bickering as he rotated his head once more to behold the mighty structure, and he gasped. He must have been in another dream. Although he knew this to be a simple excuse concocted by his mind, he grasped so tightly the feeble belief. The immense, spectacular palace had grown corrupt in his eyes. No longer made of jewel nor ice alike, it seemed to be formed of solid shadows. Shadows that collided to form nothing more than bitter darkness.

Karaza looked down at his hands. They were cold; bare. Damn, my gloves. He had forgotten them somewhere. His thoughts wandered to the last place he had worn them, and fell solely on Khana’s luggage bag. Let’s just pray that I won’t need them, then, he hoped silently.

All noised had stopped, and he ceased gazing beyond the cliff of the icy mountain peak. He turned around slowly to look at those who were equally stranded with him. He’d seen some earlier, and some had just arrived. None seemed guilty of any form of crime against him, so on whom did the blame fall?

There was one, however, that did not have such an air of innocence. Karaza noticed that an angel was shedding his coat, and he had did not have a confused look on his face at all. Karaza had met angels before, in the Dome, but this angel was different. A large portion of his body was made of metal. It appeared that he was partially bionic. The angel’s eyes met with Karaza’s, and they quickly changed form. When the man looked at Karaza, his eyes filled with bitterness; with hate.

He hadn’t appeared a hateful or violent man a second prior, so why had he filled with disgust upon seeing Karaza? His eyes made Karaza uneasy to his stomach, and he felt himself becoming weak to his knees. This was guilt. But he’d done nothing wrong, so he had no reason to feel guilt. Despite his first initial reaction, which was to avoid the man, he quickly realized he had no other choice. He knew something.

“You,” Karaza called him, raising his finger to him. Everyone else turned their heads to see who had broken the long, uneasy silence. The angel looked back at Karaza, and gulped forcefully, as if strongly resisting the urge to threaten him. “I recognize you! You were on the rooftop; you sent me here. Why?” Karaza remained calm throughout his question, but did not get a response.

“You, one of the chosen seven? Hah!” He said lowly under the wind. Karaza thought that he was perhaps the only one close enough to have caught what he had said. Everyone else continued to ocularly inquire as to why they had been brought to such a dreadful place. The angel, however, seemed to refuse to answer Karaza’s question. This upset him somewhat, but he knew better than to show hostility, lest violence should ensue. These people, after all, had done nothing to harm him.

He would indeed wait patiently for answers. He sought answers to a different question than that of everyone else staring at the mechanical angel, though. What had he done to deserve such a piercing stare? He was sure that he would come to find out.

Mesfido’s mind was ablaze. Wild thoughts and rampant memories flamed through him. Tiny fragments of distant pasts flickered before his mind’s eye, carrying forgotten words with them.

He sat in the Chamber of Fate, Famulus stood before him. The general was dressed in his majestic battle gear.

“The Seven managed to turn the tide, balancing the heavens once more. You, Tueor, as an Archangel, have the responsibility to make sure nothing like that ancient war happens again.”

“Famulus, you know as well as I that the Seven are a mere legend, born to inspire cowardice warriors and idle children.”

A sorrowful look crossed Famulus’ face, his tiredness showing for once. “I know, Tueor, but in times like these, myths are one of the small manner of things that give us hope. Our angels, Archangels like you, must be like the Seven of legend and inspire our people.”

Even, Famulus for all his arrogance knew it to be just a myth. There are no records of that ancient war other than the words of a few senile elders.

The fallen angel shut his eyes, dousing his fiery thoughts. By habit, Mesfido’s mind began to sense the elements around him, forming a colourful mental picture before his sight. Icy blue coated the ground, a pale green sailed through the air. All around him human forms began to take shape, all of different colours. A deep purple form lay next to him, its head gazing out over the distance. The fallen angel opened his eyes. There was no one there.

His mind began to swim again, his memories leaking back within his mind.

Famulus stood over Tueor, a long sword held within his palm.

“Tueor, with your new title I give you this ancient sword. Castitas. Arise, Tueor, Archangel of Health.”

The memory seeped out as fast as they had appeared, leaving Mesfido alone in the darkness of his mind. A bolt of lightning ripped through the dark, his dream came back to him. The young angel swung his blade before him, smacking it against his enemy's. The sword sang as it sliced through the air, sparks shining against its silver surface. The fallen angel concentrated on the weapon, watching it with curiosity. Slowly, it began to grow clearer. He knew the blade.

Castitas? How can that angel wield it? I lost it hundreds of years ago just after I claimed the Sword of the Pact. Satan destroyed it.

Another memory formed itself in the angel’s mind. A marble chamber formed over his head, next to him stood his dear friend, Expertus. Mesfido, or rather Tueor had just been given the title of Archangel.

“It is a mighty fine blade.” Expertus exclaimed, gently passing Castitas across the palm of his hand, “You know the legend that follows it, don’t you?”

“No, my friend, I’m afraid I do not.”

“It is said that one of the Seven once wielded it, using it only when the need was there. He was said to be the most honorable of the Seven, granting respect to every enemy that he faced.” Expertus handed the weapon back to the mighty Archangel. “Be like that angel.”

Something broke Mesfido's trail of thought. It seemed that someone else had arrived.

“You, I recognize you! You were on the rooftop!”

Mesfido’s cobalt eyes gazed up glumly, his mind still swirling with thought. One of the other people that lay about him was holding his finger before him, staring at the newcomer. The fallen angel followed the direction that he pointed. His eyes came to rest apon a large, winged man, a cybernetic limb protruding from his body.

Valion? What has he got to do with this?

Mesfido remembered the burl of colour that he had seen before falling into the strange warp hole. Now he realized he had recognized it. It had been Valion.

The cybernetic angel remained silent, his eyes fixed on the man that had spoken. Finally, he turned his sight. A whisper entered Mesfido’s ears, his heightened senses instantly picking it up.

“You, one of the chosen Seven?” Valion’s voice entered the fallen angel’s head, the final two words ringing throughout his brain.

Mesfido spoke, his voice slow and his question clear. “So Valion, it is true then? The Seven are more than the mere myth I used to believe they were.”

Valion turned his head, looking directly at the fallen angel. “They are as real as you or I, my friend.”

Well then. Things did not appear to be a chain of aimless events, strung with haphazardly elected persons and equally haphazard futures. "We're not all strangers here, I shouldna think," Amaranth murmured. She rolled her arms into the warmth of her mantle, glancing between the members of the group and marking looks of recognition dawning on several faces. At least, these expressions appeared as recognition. Perhaps they were but unwittingly mutual, in that class of glances sometimes bestowed among strangers without conscious reason; rather, the evidence of a higher basis, a higher yesterday, that slipped minds and slipped universes, but remained on some transcending plane for later use and interpretation.

Her hands were unevenly arrayed in their pockets of warmth—she could feel a cramp stealing into one of them—hastily, Amaranth dragged them into the cold and shook them, felt their heat dispersing with the frozen haze.

Someone was speaking.

She glanced up, and found her attention had been drawn to an angel, who stood taller than herself, said something regarding "real as you or I"—she briefly wondered—and seemed to be a fortress of a figure, half-encased in metal. Amaranthine flinched. It came to her, not that this angel seemed incongruous in any way, but that he might be coated in steel. "Jesu forfend," she mumbled, taking a step or two backward. Perhaps this was but a dream—a most awkward one—but that would be far better than reality.

"You'll excuse me for asking this," she cut in suddenly, only just remembering to nod her apologies to the metal angel's interoculator. "It might pass as an odd question but ye must understand: I was tossed out of my sleep and into this realm of snow before I could gather my wits about me and the like." She paused. Her auditor was watching her, poised and collected against the backdrop of white, and several other persons had fixed their eyes on her too—not that she disrelished the attention; it unfortunately came just as the situation grew more awkward. But what of awkwardness? she mused. It hadn't killed her yet.

"But would this happen to be a dream?" she concluded.

"No," said the angel, very deliberately.

"Ah!" said Amaranth, and straightened. She had not noticed she was leaning forward on the balls of her feet until a stray pang flashed through her spine. "Just wondered."

"I am sure you are all wondering," said the angel, as though in agreement.

"I canna help but think this is all very strange," Amaranth confessed, shrugging, rearranging her cloak. "First comes a dream, and it awash with angels—very strange that it have angels in it, faer I'm half faery and we sidhe ha'e none tae do with angels—but here there are angels and then I'm in the snow, havin' been thrown intae a portal as though summoned or sent—" She stopped suddenly. Her utterance had grown discursive, and with her loquacity had come understanding; turning suddenly to the man whom had earlier pointed his finger toward the metal angel, she exclaimed, "Ah! And ye say ye were sent here? By him?" She looked at the angel. "An' the rest of ye? Sent here too? What have we been summoned for?" She returned her attention to the angel.

"What d'ye want with us, man?"

Ooc: I’ve decided, from now on if I think the thread is being delayed, I’ll post. I want to do this thread quickly, and I won’t wait for slow people. =P

IC:

Questions. Every living being could never resist asking a question, it was what proved them to be a living being. Without this trait, a being would be hollow and lifeless. However, that didn’t stop the angel from not actually wanting to answer the questions. Especially from the pale one.

“If I was to tell you that each being here was a key to a door, what would you say to me?” Valion asked calmly.

No one spoke, although their expression told the angel what their mouths would not.

“Precisely. You would think that one like me would need to fix his mind before saying else. Yet you all have experienced things out of the ordinary in your sleep, something that I was also part of. The time has come for an event not witnessed in more than a millennia, and each person here must play their part. However, I will not stop any of you from leaving,” Valion said simply. Waving his hand in front of him, the angel conjured another time portal.

“If you do not wish to participate, then I will hold no grudge. But the fate of a world will be decided upon your actions. Choose wisely.”

With that, the angel stalked off towards the blurry outline of the temple.

Do you think that it was wise to allow them the opportunity to leave?

I believe in fate as much as the next angel, R.V. I trust in the judgment of the Seven, they would not have picked cowards to take their place in this world.

The sound of footfalls broke into the conversation, and Valion turned to see Mesfido following closely behind him.

“You know I would not pass up a chance to fulfill a prophecy containing the Seven, don’t you?” the other angel said inquisitively. Shaking his head heartily, Valion shook the other angel’s hand.

“I had hoped that another angel would be part of this quest, but to see you hear fills my heart with hope for us all, friend,” the cyber angel chuckled.

“And what about me?”

Releasing his grip on Mesfido’s arm, Valion looked to see a slightly annoyed Tanith watching him.

“It has been awhile, Tanith.”

Cracking a grin to show he meant no offense, the mechanical being extended his hand. Taking it like Mesfido had done, the two shook hands.

“Are you the only two who would follow?” Valion asked skeptically. Pointing a thumb over her shoulder, Tanith indicated for the angel to see for himself. Sure enough, none had actually left, but few were following. They were hesitant of what to do.

“Can we proceed without the others?” Mesfido asked.

“No, the trials ahead will take every person chosen by the Seven. I’ll just nudge them in the right direction,” Valion said wirily. Waving a hand over his pendant once more, the angelic being shut the portal.

“Now, we’ll see how long the others can wait before they join us,” the angel muttered. Turning his attention back to the temple looming in the distance, he began to walk again.

The three warriors gained a steady, rhythmic pace, progressing slowly towards the colossal temple. Clearly that was their objective. What they would find there, Mesfido did not know.

The three walked in silence, all listening for the sound of footsteps behind them. The fallen angel concentrated his sense of hearing, the other four blurring slightly. In the distant, a few hundred metres back, he could hear the others starting to walk and speaking quietly amongst themselves, some of them seemed to doubt Valion’s sanity. Mesfido pulled his listening back to him, keeping his eyes tight on the temple. It was most certainly a strange sight. With every blink of his eyelids it seemed to transform, sometimes, pure white, and others, the darkest of black. The angel’s head began to ache from the structure’s constant shifting. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes away.

Next to him stood Valion and a women he had never met. Tanith, Valion had called her. She seemed to shiver beneath the cold, Valion too may have felt the cold, but if he did he showed no signs of it. Luckily for Mesfido, he would never have to feel cold again, if he willed it so. The fallen angel gazed over at the silent women as she shivered once more. Slowly, Mesfido dropped his hand to the ground scooping up a hand full of snow.

“Now’s no time for a snowball fight.” the mechanical angel mused, a joking tone to his voice.

“Though I do enjoy a bit of childish play, I am aware that we are in more serious times then that.” the gigantic fallen angel looked down at his friend, a sparkle in his eyes. “I thought I’d make a fire to keep us warm.”

“You intend to make a fire from snow? You must be more talented than I ever believed.” A hearty laugh broke from Valion’s chest.

“There are many things about me that you do not yet know, hopefully you will get a chance to learn them all.”

Mesfido turned his attention back to the snow, which was now quickly melting in his warm fingertips. He concentrated on the blood in his veins, feeling its flow. The powers of the Crimson Blood ran through his arms, instantly heating the blood vessels within his palm. Steam began to rise from Mesfido’s hand; the heat from his hand had converted the snowball into gas. Acting quickly, the fallen angel drew the searing air into himself, traces of fire element entering his body. Suddenly, a burst of flames erupted from his hand. He held it before him, a smile lining his face.

“And that, my friends, is how you turn ice to fire.”

Tanith gave the fallen angel a friendly smile. “Thank you. It is rather chilly.”

“I’m always willing to help a new friend.” Mesfido held his hand out to Tanith, the one that wasn’t alight with flames. “I’m Mesfido, it is a pleasure to meet any friend of Valion.”

Tanith took the angel’s hand, shaking it with her own gauntleted one. “I am Tanith Lorword. I’m glad for the company of two angel’s for this task ahead, whatever it may be.”

OoC: I hope I portrayed your characters right.

It seemed the orchestrators of the present situation proffered Amaranthine and everyone else little choice as to their course action. It was to be a mutual course, undoubtedly. Amaranth bent her neck, watched the two angels and a young woman proceed. It was vaugley annoying to be left without any real choice, she thought - there were nuances woven into the definition of "real" that Amaranthine felt herself unequal, in her natural insouciance, to plumb - but it was far better than lying on her back condemning the Folk.

She found herself moving forward, abruptly—it was light, subtle, the touch of Mutual Choice—but it had come, moved the feet of herself and those around her through the white, grounded flakes.

The remnant was murmuring, as they followed after those gone before them.

Amaranthine sighed, loosed her grip upon her cloak—it was growing highly inconvenient, as it slid over her shoulders and refused to conform to the position of her staff. It was amusing to mark how her pace had slowed to measure precisely with those around her, to mark how her footsteps soughed through the wet, downy ice. She glanced around her, grinning, then broke loose, strode to fill the space that ran betwixt the latter cluster of persons and the ones before them. Her tread lengthened—she was all but running—she drew level with the angels and the lass and gave a bright-eyed look to all three.

The first angel glanced at her.

“Hesitation—it’s sae annoying,” Amaranth said brightly.

“I think I sha’ like this adventure that ye have us on,” she continued, lapsing into monologue. “I have no idea what it’s about an’ such like, but I suppose there’ll be a great deal more fun in it since that is the case. What’s all your names then?” She spun backward, facing away from the temple, and watched the faces of her companions with candid expression, her feet sliding through the snow. “I don’ fancy an escapade with the nameless, if ye’ll pardon my freedom. Won’t that be fun then? But excuse me. I’m Amaranth.” She grinned. “Sae pleased tae meet you all!”

OoC: Short, and uninspired. ::sobs::

OoC: Short and sweet.

BiC:

Tanith smiled at the two angels. For celestial beings, they were much friendlier than she ever imagined. Not that the knight had ever planned on meeting one. Indeed, she had been quite surprised to see the two, though she had barely shown it. However, she did remember the cyber angel, Valion. Him and his friend, Cyno, had battled with her and a younger boy she had met named Ronin. I wonder what Ronin is doing now, her mind slipped to. The two had gone separate ways shortly after the skirmish and the woman hadn’t seen him since.

“Tanith?” the knight heard someone ask. She jumped out of her day-dreaming to see Mesfido giving her a questioning glance. “I asked you why you followed us so immediately?” he re-stated after a few second of silence past.

The lady blushed slightly, “I apologize.” It wasn’t the first time someone had to snap her back into reality. “I suppose I followed because we were meant to come here, especially if it was an angel that brought us here in the first place,” she gave a glance at Valion, “So, why try to fight something you’re suppose to do?”

“Are things that simple?” the newly-met angel asked.

The question took Tanith by surprise slightly, “Well, yes, I suppose.” The question made her dive back into her thoughts. I’ve always thought of things as simple. Either they happen or not. Hmm... I guess I’m slightly hypocritic in that thinking. I’ve always wondered what would happen if I finally got rid of Soul Eater. ...Or if it finally won... Thinking of the sword, she rested her left hand on it’s hilt. It had been quivering unnoticeably ever since she had been thrown into this situation. Though, it was shaking for two reasons. One, it had always been nervous around holy beings, something malevolent would have a ground to. But it was excited as well. Whatever was in the building they were nearing, it was evil. The building they neared was constantly shifting between white and black, giving the knight an uneasy feeling. An additional sound of crunching snow brought the lady out of her thoughts once more to see one of the others catching up with them. Between her rather quick speech and odd dialect, Tanith barely caught what she said. Though, she did hear a request for their names. The knight held out a hand in greeting, trying to be a little less introverted than usual, “I am Tanith Lorword. An honor to meet you.”

OoC: Things do not know how to go well for me. I don’t know why.

BiC: Finally, Kawaii had finished her greatest masterpiece. In a matter of mere minutes, she had managed to perform an act no child had performed before. She had created an artificial human, made entirely out of snow. It was almost miraculous how something so amazing could come together in such a short time. Of course, this groundbreaking feat would require a title. She would call it, a Snowman.

However, back in the real world, while Kawaii was busy basking in her own self appreciation, she was also getting left behind. As she completed work on her little snowman, the other six and the angel had begun to walk away. Unluckily for her, she was too absorbed with herself to notice. And though her attention span would eventually give way, it would not likely be in time for her to follow their path. Of course, there wasn’t a decent soul alive that would leave a sweet little girl like Kawaii alone in such a desolate place. To all appearances, she wouldn’t last more than a half of an hour in their current environs. So it did not take long until someone went back to retrieve her.

“Little girl.” She heard an approaching voice say.

With her concentration shaken, she turned from her creation to see who had called to her. Slowly, one of the others, a man wearing all black, approached her. “Are you going to come with us?” he asked in a soft, polite tone. Puzzled, Kawaii looked around, and, to her surprise, discovered that the group was no longer around her. “Where did everybody go?” she questioned confusedly, rapidly looking from side to side. “Here,” the man replied, motioning for her to come over to him, “Follow me.” With that, she waved goodbye to her snowman, and walked over.

Sticking close together, the doll and her new acquaintance started back toward the others at a quick pace so they wouldn’t fall too far behind.

“Thank you,” Kawaii said to her companion as they forded through the snow. Without saying a word, he looked her way and gave her a nod. For a moment or two, neither of them said anything as she waited for him to give a real response. “My name’s Kawaii,” she said after tiring of waiting, “What’s your name?” “My name is Ahavalin.” “Okay, it’s nice to meet you Ahavalin. Is it okay if we be friends?”

OoC: Like I said.

It’s chilly, Karaza remarked. The frigid gale attacked his figure with ferocity as snow piled above his feet. He watched as the other six figures began to work their ways towards (he assumed) the large fortress that held no definite colour. As the last two of the group made their way down the slope, Karaza sighed and looked up at the darkened sky. It held nothing for him. He had no reason to follow these people, and yet no idea how to find his way home.

Thoughts of a next action occupied his mind and littered his consciousness with doubt. The angel who had glared at him with eyes overwhelmed with enmity had been called Valion by another man who Karaza guessed to be an angel. He had no desire to follow this man, and yet, it seemed that he held the answers to this journey. His portal gone, Karaza knew that he had no other way home. He’d been given the option to leave, and had then had it taken away before he could have seized it.

“I refuse to walk blindly into the unknown with my reliance placed only on that man,” Karaza decided resolutely. Perhaps he could not find his way back to a world that he knew and felt safe in, but he did not need to abide by the wishes of even the mightiest angel. He nodded to himself, and watched as Valion and the other two people he had been walking with disappear into the darkness of the snowy horizon. He would follow, but he refused to adhere to their orders.

Building up psychic energy in his mind, he thought one last time about his decision and whether or not he was making a mistake. “No,” he finally concluded, “I walk where angels fear to tread.” He laughed at his pun, and then removed his carefree grin. Whether or not he was involved in this journey, he was going to go about it his way.

There was a large boom that echoed violently through the area, and everyone turned to see what had caused it. The one angel in particular, Valion, gritted his teeth as he saw what had caused it. Karaza had both of his arms pressed tightly to his side, and was hurtling upwards at a rapid speed. He had his head raised, and looked enviously at the clouds. It took only a minute for him to reach the clouds, and he stopped just beneath them.

Far below him, there was a large cloud of snow and ice that had been stirred when he had ignited the fiery fury of his telekinetic flight. He had indisputably turned some heads with his unnecessary show of force.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re looking at, here,” Karaza smiled, his light headed and laidback manner reunited once more with his rebellious attitude. He could see a considerable amount more from such an altitude than he could from the ground, and noticed that, beyond the shifting fortress, everything was dark and shrouded in a combination of heavy snow and dark shadows.

After growing tired of staring at the large blanket of whiteness, Karaza spun himself with his psychic powers and shot down towards the ground with one particular target in mind. Moving downwards is easier than upwards, and so it only took Karaza a matter of seconds to nearly collide with a pile of the powdery substance. He changed his course before he crashed, though, and slowly and craftily wove his way in between all of the travellers.

It took a minute to reach Valion and his companions, but none of the three seemed to notice, as they had all gone back to talking. Karaza, still flying feet above the ground, sped in front of them, and turned himself upright. He did, however, still remain several inches above the ground. Valion looked at him with sheer hate, and again Karaza couldn’t help but feel guilty. The other angel looked between Karaza and Valion, and wondered what was the matter. Finally, the woman that walked with them smiled at him, unaware of the tension.

“I’ll meet you guys there,” he said cheerfully, avoiding Valion’s piercing stare. The fit of rebellion he’d experienced earlier had subsided, but he still didn’t find the thought of walking slowly very appealing. Thus, without waiting for a reply, he turned himself around, still suspended in the air, and rocketed off with unmatchable speed.

He figured that, even if he had to rely on the knowledge of another, he could still proceed on his own, and perhaps even discover all that he needed to know all by himself.

OoC - Oooh! Unexpected complication!

Brainless fool. Even if Raphael did choose him, I still think he deserves chastisement after what he did to-

It is not your place to doubt the orders of ones who you worship, little angel.

Shaking his head vigorously as though something had just lodged itself within it, Valion slammed his fist into the side of his face. The blow drew blood from his lip, cascading it across the white snow in a crimson ribbon. Taken aback by his sudden actions, his two companions looked in alarm at the amount of blood that the blow had drawn. Straightening up, the angel shook his head once more.

What in God’s name was that?!

Unknown, though it moved itself into and out of your mental waves without much effort.

Suddenly noticing that the attention of the others had been drawn to him, Valion shrugged.

“Internal error, nothing more.”

Letting the incident slide on the fact that he was half robot, Tanith and Mesfido turned their attention back to walking.

~

Minutes passed, and the temple loomed ever closer until at last, they reached it. As they neared, Valion picked out what appeared to be the form of Karaza sitting next to the temple.

“Wonder why he hasn’t gone inside?” the angel to Valion’s right muttered. Cracking a smile of satisfaction, the cybernetic being pointed to the frontal wall of the temple. Though it was entirely composed of a sandy colored stone, one part didn’t blend with the rest. A silver weather beaten door, roughly 20 feet high and 15 feet wide, took up part of the frontal wall.

“A safety measure to make sure not just anyone can enter the temple, it requires all of us.”

“To do what?” Tanith muttered.

“That is what we have to find out.” Pulling his overcoat closer to him, the angel walked up to the doors.

Tanith watched as Valion walked up to the large door. Mesfido wasn’t too far behind, either. She supposed if anyone was going to figure out how they were going to get inside, it would be the two angels. They seemed to know most of what was going on, anyway. The knight’s eyes wandered over to the pale man that had flown ahead of them earlier. Clearly, the mechanical angel had some problem with him, though she had no idea what it could be. Then again, he seems to pick fights rather easily, she decided, remembering the two-on-two battle where they first met. Then she glanced at the woman who had come up to meet them. Amaranth, that’s the name she gave herself. She seemed to have a rather bubbly personality, looking at the building and the two angels animatedly.

“Sae, Tanith, what are them two angels doin’, ye think?” Amaranth suddenly asked, taking the knight by surprise slightly.

“I suppose they are simply looking for a way into this building,” she replied calmly.

The half-faerie shook her head with a smile, “They pull us out of our sleep an’ they don’t know what to do? Seems foolish tae mae.”

The vampire hunter nodded, it did seem somewhat foolish to be out here with little knowledge of what was going on. Looking past Amaranth, she noticed Ahavalin coming with a small child holding his hand. The vampire... she thought, reminiscing to the battle in the forest where she had encountered him. A vampire chosen to accompany angels, it seemed that she would once more have to suppress her distrust and dislike of their kind once more. Besides, it seemed that Ahavalin did possess some holy abilities despite his heritage.

“Tanith,” a voice commanded, catching her attention. She looked to the building to see Valion looking at her intently.

The knight walked over to the two angels, “Yes?”

“We have figured out how to open the door,” Mesfido replied, “It seems only Chamuel is able to. Or his representative.”

It took the woman only a second to figure out what they were implying, “Me?” The cyber-angel nodded and Tanith took a look at the door. The silver color hadn’t been diminished despite obvious sighs of weather-wear. It also towered over her and the lady wasn’t exactly what one would call strong. “How?” was the only question she could ask, very doubtful of their words despite their origins.

“By pushing on the door like you would with any other building,” Valion said matter-of-factly, “However, you must also have some ice in your hands. Chamuel is associated with that element.”

“Ice?” she peered towards the snow-covered ground. Hardly believing what she was about to do, she bent over, picked up some snow in both hands, and set them against the door. Of course, the knight didn’t expect the door to move at all when she pushed but, surprisingly, it did and she almost lost balance. One push was all that was needed for the door sung open widen enough by itself, revealing whatever was hidden in this temple.

OoC: Alrightly, I hope I did that right. Also, I apologize if I messed up Amaranth, Selah, especially her accent.