herarmor

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she’s a 10 but she’s stressed everyday about everything

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               “   AND   YET   I   STILL   EVOLVE,   TOO.   DESPITE   THE   ROT   YOU   so   heavily   judge.   ”   Her   brows   narrowed   while   muscles   tensed.   Tenderness,   kindness,   and   anything   under   that   umbrella   never   sat   right   with   her   or   the   other   exorcist.   They   were   not   normal   angels.   Angels   had   a   gentleness   to   them   even   if   they   were   made   for   war,   to   fight,   and   to   protect.   She   should   know.   Vaggie   was   made   in   an   image   of   one—   to   be   what   Lute   was   to   Adam,   but   for   The   Great   Prince   of   Heaven.   Vaggie   had   not   been   needed   after   all,   but   she   could   still   hear   His   voice:   

               “You   are   Valiant.   You   shall   overcome   anything   that   stands   in   your   way.”

                  VAGGIE   RECALLED   THE   FEELING   OF   HER   WINGS   BEING   REMOVED.   IT   was   a   sensation   that   lasted   for   weeks.   It   was   worse   than   the   wound   to   her   eye.   Vaggie   remembered   cleaning   the   back   wounds   in   secret,   and   how   she   would   cry   over   the   loss   of   them.   Vaggie   had   been   lost   once upon   a   time,   but   she   remembered   that   deep   down   she   was   Valiant,   “   I   don’t   think   we   are   as   different   as   you   think   we   are.   ”   A   mumble,   a   gentle   voice   that   even   the   slightest   breath   could   carry   away.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE ANSWER DOES NOT STRIKE, BUT ITS SHAPE, ITS POSTURE;ㅤthe way it rises on squared shoulders & folds across a guarded chest, it brushes against something ancient beneath Lute’s skin,ㅤ“No,”ㅤcomes the answer,ㅤ“You’re not afraid of the unknown;ㅤthat’s never been your problem,”ㅤgaze withers down to a slit; light through a dying keyhole — simply done pretending it ever needed to be,ㅤ“Your problem is the rot — tenderness where there should’ve been teeth; you bleed at the edges & call it compassion & it’s a fucking liability,”ㅤLute will not be loomed over,ㅤ& her shadow falls neatly alongside Vaggie’s; indistinguishable in shape, darker only by weight…ㅤ“I don’t stay lost,”ㅤtone sharpening just enough to fracture the quiet,ㅤ“I return,”ㅤheavy as judgment,ㅤ& she allows the rest out on an exhale —ㅤclipped, but honest:ㅤ“& when something’s torn from me, I don’t break,ㅤI evolve…”ㅤThat’s all her life has ever been —ㅤsubtraction & consequence,ㅤLute’s gaze drops once, briefly, to Vaggie’s crossed arms, a familiar barrier; she remembers standing behind it once herself,ㅤ[ & perhaps, she still does… ]ㅤ“You pity me,ㅤ& that’s generous... Best you save it;ㅤI’ve learned to survive without softness.”ㅤ( —she says it like someone who’s paid too much to prove it, )ㅤ& then,ㅤ“It doesn’t mean I forgot what it felt like,”ㅤa confession disguised as dismissal;ㅤmemory claws at the edges, but Lute steps past it like a priest through fire —ㅤconsecrated by absence, untouched by heat.ㅤShe refuses to look where the ache begins,

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                  Cherry lounges against the hotel’s cracked railing, twirling a lighter between her fingers as chaos brews somewhere in the distance [ namely in the Hotel's loungeroom; these guests can sure get rowdy. She almost felt bad for the princess ] She watches Vaggie storm past; knife-sharp glare, jaw clenched, probably on her fifth crisis of the day. Without missing a beat, Cherry grins wide & calls out, “Damn, Vaggie; do you ever blink, or are you just powered by pure lesbian fury?"

                  IF   IT   WASN’T   ONE   THING   THEN   IT   WAS   THE   NEXT.   VAGGIE   DIDN'T   mind   protecting   the   hotel   after   all   it   was   her   home   now.   Her   heart   was   rather   big   for   her   small   body,   and   stronger   than   what   people   would   assume.   However,   this   angel   had   a   limit,   and   lately   people   have   been   crossing   it.   So   much   so   that   her   muscles   started   to   ache—   you   are   Valiant.   

               HER   GAZE   FELL   UPON   THE   VOICE   THAT   CALLED   TO   HER.   Her   brows   pulled   together,   and as   if   it   were   possible,   to show   more   annoyance.   Then   there   is   this   headache,   “   Damn,   @cherryfused,   ”   Vaggie   started,   her   arms   crossed   over   her   chest,   “   Do   you   ever   leave,   or   does   snake   dick   drive   your   conscience?   ”   It   was   a   genuine   question   as   to   why   she   was   still   here…   maybe   said   more   aggressively   than   she   would   have   liked.   This   hotel   was   made   for   people   who   wanted   to   better   themselves,   not   for   people   to   just   lounge   around   at.   Vaggie   wanted   to   make   this   hotel   as   serious   as   possible   because   she   believed   in   it.  

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I need to make a verse where Vaggie stays as Valiant, and not even an exorcist.

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Fallen from grace.

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also since my tags from my previous post reminded me of this, and I think I put it on my pinned, but I don't have vaggie automatically with charlie in romantic way. I would prefer to chat/plot with others to build something.

[herarmor]

For me, and the direction I am writing Vaggie... she does not hate Lute or Adam. In fact, she might have felt a strong urge to strike Niffty down as she continuously stabbed at Adam. She was created to protect those of Heaven, and despite their differences, she did/does care for Adam (and Lute too).

This means she probably has to take a big step away from Niffty for a while as she grieves. Vaggie has a lot of complex emotions regarding Lute, Adam, and anything related to Heaven in general. She doesn't have anyone to talk about this with which doesn't help her situation. Not many can understand what she is feeling besides probably Lucifer.

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               VAGGIE   FOUND   THAT   LUTE’S   CALM   WAS   ALMOST   UNCANNY.   SHE   WOULD   almost   prefer   if   she   ran   that   blade   through   her   now.   It   put   Vaggie   on   edge,   and   she   never   liked   being   put   there.   It   was   probably   because   of   this   same   woman   why   she   loathed   that   feeling.   Vaggie   was   forced   to   be   something   she   wasn’t,   and   Lute   was   the   main   cause   of   that.

               SHE   COULD   SIT   HERE   AND   CREEP   DEEPER   INTO   LUTE’S   MIND   with   the   truth   she   had   spoken.   Vaggie   knew   that   she   was   on   Lute’s   mind   more   often   than   not.   She   was   the   failure   that   was   succeeding.   However,   they   both   knew   that   she   was   created   differently.   Her   function   was   not   the   same   as   The   Exorcists   despite   how   they   tried.   She   was   a   protector.   She   didn’t   attack,   she   didn’t   maim   unless   provoked.   She   was   not   like   @evulosie,   “   The   thing   is,   Lute,   you’re   always   in   war.   ”

            THE   ANGEL   SHIFTED   HER   WEIGHT   TO   ONE   SIDE,   AND   LET   her   hand   rest   upon   her   hip.   Her   eye   looked   her   over   as   a   frown   settled   on   her   lips.   Despite   everything   Lute   had   done   to   her,   Vaggie   couldn’t   come   to   hate   her.   She   understood   to   a   degree,   and   her   holy   essence   was   still   contained   inside   her   body   no   matter   the   way   she   looked.   Vaggie’s   heart   ached,   throbbed,   and   yearned   for   something   that   could   have   been—   something   that   could   still   be   if   it   were   allowed.   

               A   SIGH   ESCAPED   HER   NOSE.   VAGGIE’S   EXPRESSION   WAS   SET   IN   STONE,   but   her   gaze   filled   with   tenderness,   “   You   don’t…   have   to   be.   You   don’t   have   to   be   at   war   with   me,   ”   Lute   lost   Adam.   Both   of   them   did.   Vaggie   had   her   own   feelings   about   that   to   deal   with   at   another   time.   Or,   perhaps   with   this   olive   branch,   they   could   figure   it   out   together,   “   Lute,   please,   ”   the   plea   was   all   she   hoped   she   needed,   but   still   she   couldn’t   help   but   add,   “   Can   we   just   talk   for   once?   ” xx.

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                   my knuckles may be broken and bloody,                   but don’t you forget how they got that way.

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               THERE   WAS   A   TIME   SHE   HAD   BEEN   AFRAID   OF   LUTE   while   she   trained   under   her   eye,   but   slowly   it   turned   into   something   different.   Not   hatred,   not   even   now   surprisingly   enough,   but   Vaggie   wasn’t   so   sure   what   it   was.   Pity?   Maybe.   It   felt   more   fitting.   Hate   didn’t   run   in   her   core   for   anyone   else   but   herself.   Vaggie   figured   the   self   hate   came   from   deeper   within,   and   that   would   need   to   be   worked   on   later.   For   now,   she   had   Lute   in   front   of   her. 

               SILVER   LOCKS   SHIFTED   IN   THE   MOVEMENT   OF   HER   HEAD   TILT.   Vaggie’s   arms   crossed   over   her   chest   like   a   shield,   body   held   strong   with   her   chin   raised,   “   I   do,   ”   a   sharp   nod   of   her   head,   “   At   least   I’m   not   afraid   of   the   unknown,   ”   she   leaned   forward,   “   What   about   you?   When   something   gets   torn   from   you,   will   you   be   able   to   prosper?   Or   will   you   stay   lost?   ”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭ㅤ( the very same kind Lute used during their training days )ㅤAny wounds beneath her armor have long been sealed, sutured over with far too many years of obedience & silence; she stands as she always does: centered & unreadable,ㅤ“Fear is the enemy, indeed…”ㅤa phrase too well rehearsed, too deeply embedded in her wiring to be anything but reflex,ㅤArms remain at her sides, for there is no need to cross them, to hide,ㅤ“Is that what you think? That I’m afraid?”ㅤshe ask & leans in just ever so, enough to cast a faint shadow across Vaggie’s boots,ㅤ“There’s a certain innocence to your ignorance — almost nostalgic; well, at least you're consistent, Vagyna…”

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life is about finding cute little things and moments so you don’t feel miserable

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I will get up again. And again. And again.

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               DEFIANT.   IT   WAS   ALL   SHE   KNEW—   WAS   THAT   REALLY   WHAT   it   was?   She   was   never   sure   anymore,   and   maybe   that   was   the   problem.   What   did   matter   was   being   in   the   Sin’s   presence   was   enough   to   make   her   feel   a   sense   of   familiarity   (not   that   she   forgot   where   she   came   from)   and   even   more   strangely,   comfort.   However,   that   didn’t   last   long.   Vaggie   recoiled   when   the   bite   of   his   words   were   returned.   

               HER   ARMS   CROSSED   OVER   HER   CHEST,   BODY   POISED   LIKE   A   statue,   “   Fair   point,   ”   Vaggie   grumbled,   “   I’m   not   like   you.   I   didn’t   fall   I   just…   ”   just   what?   It   wasn’t   a   fair   punishment   of   banishment,   was   it?   No,   it   wasn’t.   She   was   left   behind.   She   couldn’t   escape.   Vaggie   had   been   stuck,   and   the   elements   of   Hell   shifted   her   appearance.   In   a   way,   she   was   forced   to   be   like   this,   “   Whatever.   What   I   mean   is,   if   you’re   going   to   visit,   don’t   make   people   not   want   to   be   here.   Otherwise   I’ll   get   your   boss.   ”  

𝗔 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 , 𝗔𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗨𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗟𝗬 𝗔𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗟𝗘 . . the avarice grin grew wide within the fallens' realization. ‘ a lil' slow there , aren't cha' ? ’ a low chitter vibrated sinful vocals / one word echoed [ FALL , FALL , falling . . ]

‘     no    one     falls     further    than     here   ,   bitch .     you    and    i    both    know    that .    ’         

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                  VAGGIE   MUMBLED   SOME   MORE   UNDER   HER   BREATH.   SHE   WAS   NEVER   the   best   when   it   came   to   opening   up   to   others.   The   angel   knew   she   had   to.   It   was   the   only   way   to   better   her   mind,   but   she   was   frightened   how   she   felt.   Her   mind   was   a   maze   of   emotions,   and   to   organize   them   seemed   like   an   impossible   task.   

               HER   GAZE   FELL   ON   THE   ARCHANGEL   FOR   A   SECOND   OR   two   as   she   thought.   Vaggie   felt   her   whole   essence   ease   with   the   familiar   presence,   “   Where   would   I   begin?   ”   She   let   out   a   heavy   sigh,   “   My   mind   is   messy.   I   don’t   think   I   even   know   what   has   me   like   this—   hell,   it’s   probably   that   exact   reason!   ”

Oh, dear... This was quite a predicament that Vaggie was finding herself in, wasn't it? As the archangel couldn't resist watching her pace around the room, they waited until she stopped before their lips pursed together in thought. ❝Would you perhaps wish to talk about what has you like this? I could offer some advice to help you out, if you would like.❞