Spoiler Tags:
Devil Girl, Angel Girl, Monster Girl, Reluctance, First Time, Corruption, Lesbian, Transformation, Demon, Violence
*****
The snow fell from the sky. Pale white flakes kissing my ruby cheeks and ivory horns before turning into water that trickled down my crimson skin. They were close, I could taste the tang of their presence on the air as I kicked open the rotting door of a once holy cathedral. I shuddered at the thought, more at ease with its current broken shell than any previous opulence.
"This is it Zeke. Here is where I make my stand," I said to the empty church, my words meant for ears of the dead, insane with the impossible hope that an answer would spring from lips long since silenced.
Alone. I am utterly and inevitably alone. Way to go Laylo.
The beast that lived in my soul and kept my heart beating with familiar fire loved the overwhelming odds of the desperate situation. It lived to bare its fangs to the universe, shouting into the void that, "I AM ALIVE!"
A greater part of me, the part that'd lived as prey for so many miles, was tired, hungry, and
cold.
Having reached the end of my strength so many leagues ago.
"Funny it should be here. I'm pretty sure my tether blade tasted blood for the first time not one hundred yards from this spot, sinking into the chest of a young angel. He seemed fresh to the frontlines, golden wings outstretched in agony as I gave him a glorious death. I wonder sometimes, Zeke, if they hate us for what we do to them? Our way is not their way. Both societies so different that we grossly misinterpret the others interactions. I'm pretty sure this disconnect is what led to the war. Little good it does us now, the vanquished in this mutually destructive conflict. Would we, the Davonic act the same, if we knew then what I know now? I guess it doesn't really matter... But still I wonder..." I muttered as sleep consumed me in her black clutches, taking my unresisting mind into the darkness.
My forehead lolled into a hard metal breastplate, bringing me halfway out of my exhausted sleep. The woman who'd picked me up barked orders I couldn't understand through the haze blanketing my mind but my eyes still worked, half lidded though they were.
And what a visual feast it was.
The shining light of her halo reflected off the stained glass windows, coloring her soft face with bright pastels shadows. Her features were determined, and she hoisted me more securely into her arms without visible effort. She was lovely to the point that I
hated
her on sight, wishing I still held my tether dagger, so I could drag her screaming into the greatest death I'd ever given. Her golden brunette hair was braided securely. Swinging between her wings as she carried me from this place of death and ruin.
I could do nothing but die this sad cold death of malnourishment.
I have to do something. My very nature allowing nothing less.
Mustering my remaining strength, I opened my mouth and tried to savage her arm with my fangs; only to clang off of her silvery armor, a failure as I was in so many things recently.
Oh well. At least I tried and will die with a witness. Who knows, maybe she'll see fit to grant me death herself? Wouldn't that be grand to be cared for by someone like her...
My head rolled away from the woman, my neck losing all strength as I fell back into a restful sleep, safe in the arms of the enemy who'd relentlessly exterminated my people.
Unknown time passed.
Surprisingly I wasn't killed; waking to a painful existence of aches and uncomfortableness.
This both confused
and
angered me.
Am I so loathsome to them that they refuse to give me my death? I'll show them how worthy I am.
Unfortunately my body was not yet up to the task, my attempt at rising producing nothing more than a rustle of the cream comforter I was tucked under, muscles twitching feebly. The room smelled of burning vanilla, presumably from the candles illuminating the room from various places. Gritting my teeth, I tried once more to get out of the bed, a groan slipping from my lips after my overworked muscles refused to leverage me from my comfy prison. My noise must have alerted my capture because shortly after the attempt to move, the door to the room opened and the armored woman who carried me away from my would-be grave stepped through. She was still a vision of loveliness, tall with graceful limbs enfolded in a cotton blouse. Her shining copper wings looking impossibly soft as they drifted behind her. She graced me with a smile the made me want to rip out her spine and feed it to her. A bowl with steaming broth sat atop a tray that she set on the nightstand, nudging aside a hologram of what looked to be her and her mother. In the motes of stationary light my angel was standing at attention, a serious look on her face dressed in a suit of armor that looked entirely too large for her. Her mother looked on with pride while clutching the younger angel close, her eyes ringed with scowling wrinkles.
She reached out to take my temperature and I tried to jerk my head away, but only managed a barely noticeable tensing of my neck. She frowned at whatever she felt and reached for the spoon, her wings pulled tight, flat on her back, fluttering with concealed concern. The broth smelled delicious but I refused to open my mouth for her.
If she would deny me my death, then I see no need to cooperate with whatever inane plan she has. I don't even think I want to kill her anymore, that's how mad I am.
The twitching in my hand proved that to be a lie, every part of my being aching to sink my claws into her lovely form and write her name into my eternity. Unfortunately, the angel had her own ways around my defiance. She gave me a wry smile.
"You are weak," she said and I bristled. "And how will you be able to kill me if you don't regain your strength. The first step is getting some food into you. How long has it been since you have eaten?"
How dare she! I am a decorated scout, not some mewling hatchling to be coddled.
Words still eluded me however, so I just growled my unhappiness at her. Or, I tried to. It came out more like a plaintive whine from a wounded animal and made my cheeks blush. I continued to defiantly hold my mouth closed.
"Are you sure you don't want any broth?" she asked, wafting the delicious smelling liquid in front of my nose, making my stomach growl. "I guess there's no help for it." She took a small dagger from herr belt, sized more for a child than a warrior of her stature.
Where's she going with this?
Like all Davonic's I was innately curious and she drew me in with her not-so-subtle performance.
Is she finally going to kill me? Please say it's true.
My eyes were locked onto the knife as she brought the blade to rest against her palm.
No! What is she doing?! Why would she show such weakness by doing that? If she wanted pain, surely she has a subordinate she could command. Self-harm is the worst of all crimes. If she asked I would gladly...
Suddenly her game became very clear, as the knife parted her pale flesh, creamy yellow blood trickling out of the shallow wound to saturate the air with its familiar, alluring scent. My eyes held my naked defiance as she forced me to look away. Without me consciously willing it, my mouth fell open, acquiescing to her care, showing her my weakness with my unwillingness to indulge her own. There was no way I would ever be willing to let this beautiful creature harm herself if I could help it. I missed her gentle smile as she steadily spooned the warm broth into my body. The food burned strangely going down my throat, sitting uncomfortably in my gut.
Probably some foreign seasoning to which I am not yet accustomed.
Warmth and weariness snuck up on me and I could no longer keep my eyes open. There was a foreign pressure on my lips. Words drifted in my head, heard but not understood, following me into the dark.
"You will eventually be mine. I will
not
let you cross through the pearly gates with your brethren, or my name isn't Jenna."
