Stupidity. Recklessness. Arrogance.
Never should these words be used to describe angels, but as she sat
in a cell in one of the higher planes of Hell, shackled to the walls
on leashes of chains, Lizzu knew those very words were the reason she
was here. Her first solo undertaking to the mortal planes and she
believed she could face off against two demonics at the same time –
even with the guardianship of Twilight at her disposal, she had
failed. Not only had she failed, she now felt powerless, and
diseased. An imperfection was festering within her, and made every
single bit of her substance ache and twinge.
The walls around her appeared to move
to her eyes – any time she focused on a spot the material seemed to
flow outward from where she had focused. If she stared long enough,
there was the hair prickling feeling of something staring back, and
so she would drop her gaze into her lap. The floor was, thankfully,
not the same, and seemed to be made of a single sheet of flat, black
stone.
At first she had struggled against her
shackles, despite fatigue and nausea, but soon she had let her eyes
close and her body slacken. At that moment, the door which she
couldn't reach opened, and in stepped the more sociable of her two
captors: Maes. His mortal's guise – which he commented earlier that
he felt more comfortable in – appeared to be in the mid-thirties,
with short, scruffy brunette hair and a some more scruff starting
along his chin. The body was rather slim, though throughout the fight
as clothing and skin got torn Lizzu had found that he had formed it
to have lean, very toned muscles. It was much like her own, except
Lizzu's had the addition of an hourglass shape and additional weight
on the chest as contrary to most mortal belief, both celestials and
demonics had gender. Though it was less based on how they were
created and how their minds viewed themselves.
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