#seraphic melancholy

[niksu-agassi]

I know so many people struggling with BPD think they are hard to love, that they don't deserve it and that there will never be anyone who could match their love. None of you are too hard to love and every single one of you deserves the love you give out to those around you. So many of us have dated those who worked against us and our disorder, but there are people who WILL work with your disorder, who WILL give their best to understand you. Don't lose hope.

[jessamine-rose]

˖⋆˚♱ଘ Angel’s Tears ଓ♱˚⋆˖

*cries* I thought I was done with Church AU after Priest! Dottore yet here I am with more unholy ideas. Welp, Guardian Angel! Capitano x Nonbeliever! Darling, here we go (；ω；)

Tw:: yandere, psychological trauma, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 3.8k words under the cut ♡

♡ From the moment of their creation, angels are classified into the Nine Orders. This hierarchy determines their roles in Heaven and Earth, with higher ranks assigned greater levels of power and authority. A special exception is The Strongest Angel, an individual who is neither a Seraph nor an angel from the First Sphere. Rather, the moniker belongs to Il Capitano, the leader of the Powers.

♡ The legitimacy of his title has never been questioned. As a warrior angel, Capitano’s purpose is to vanquish evil. He is the chivalrous knight in bloodstained armor, the nigh-invincible being who strikes fear into the hearts of demons, the ever-righteous angel bound by a paradoxical duty to partake in violence for the sake of everlasting peace.

♡ It is in a small town in Mondstadt, following his victory over a legion of demons, that Capitano encounters you. It is the hour of mass yet you are nowhere near the Church; rather, you have taken sanctuary in a secluded meadow. A book sits on your lap, not a religious text but a tale of dark fantasy. There is a saintlike quality to your countenance, an air of melancholy as delicate as the flowers which surround you.

✿ ⚘

The moment Capitano appears before you, all peace leaves the meadow.

No, this isn’t right. It is normal for humans to feel fear in the divine presence of angels, yet he is donning his human guise. Nonetheless, as soon as his shadow touches your form, you look up and suppress a shriek, your face losing its veil of apathy.

So what exactly did he do wrong?

For your benefit, he remains rooted to his spot. Clarity comes in the form of your gaze flitting to your book, its title printed on the cover in conspicuous letters, the whispers which leave trembling lips.

“I…I can explain! This book—it’s just fiction! There are no real curses or spells inscribed in the text; it doesn’t promote any form of blasphemy!”

Ah, now he understands. You weren’t afraid of him.

Carefully, Capitano takes a step forward and raises his hand in a calming gesture. A gentle expression adorns his false face.

“Be not afraid.”

✿ ⚘

♡ It doesn’t take long for him to understand your wariness. A glimpse into your soul, paired with your quiet explanation, tells the story of an orphan raised by the Church. Only, your Church is one of many founded on distorted beliefs, of violence preached in the name of a cruel god. As a result, your upbringing was marked by strict rules, corporal punishments, and sermons which painted the image of a hopeless child with a weakness for temptation.

♡ Knowing this, Capitano can’t fault you for forsaking God and your Church. Still in his human guise, he promises his silence and leaves the meadow. But once he returns to Heaven, his first course of action is to apply for a position as your guardian angel. It is an easy process—while that role is typically reserved for the lower ranks, there is no shortage of humans in need of spiritual guidance and protection. He only questions why an angel wasn’t assigned to you when you were in greatest need of one.

♡ Henceforth, Capitano becomes a recurring character in your life. Every week, he visits you in the meadow. When you ask for his identity, he claims to be a progressive believer from another town. But rather than enlighten you with the true Word of God, he simply keeps you company and indulges your “vices,” leading to hours spent reading together. Beyond those meetings, he also watches over you to ward off any demons or humans seeking to harm you.

♡ From your end, you slowly warm up to your mysterious companion. He is a man of few words, but his actions always convey a sense of kindness. And despite his faith, he genuinely respects your beliefs and accepts you as you are. At one point, he even gives you a special gift, a quill pen of exceptional quality. The feather, pure white with a soft radiance, must have been sourced from a rare bird of prey.

♡ Over time, however, something changes. Capitano can’t deny that the faults lies with him. His visits, his constant thoughts of you, the ever-blurring line between want and duty…nothing of his behavior can be attributed to an angel’s inherent love for humanity. If that were the case, his love wouldn’t beget heartache. His love wouldn’t beget the temptation to harm others, rooted not in the name of justice but for your own safety. His love wouldn’t beget lust, guilt, dishonor, desires so sinfully evocative of his own fallibility.

♡ The truth is, you were never in need of spiritual salvation. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, what Capitano saw was a pure soul—a good person unlikely to commit evil nor fall into true temptation. Moreover, he knows that your sin of disbelief is forgivable unlike your Church’s sins of violence. That so long as you remain as you are, your soul will not be denied paradise, albeit in a realm of Heaven beyond Capitano’s jurisdiction. So why is he incapable of leaving your side?

✿ ⚘

“I had a long, long dream. I dreamed that you and I met again in the pure white world that we created.”

As you read the final line, your gaze leaves the book and returns to Capitano.

“What did you think of the story?”

Your shoulder brushes against his own, a tempting sensation. It is all he can do to remain still, to think against seeking out more of your touch, to remind himself that your close proximity is a mere necessity for your current activity.

The left side of the book, bearing the story’s ending, rests in your left hand. The other side is held in Capitano’s right hand, a blank page devoid of hope for a happy ending. When he turns the page, you seamlessly catch it under your thumb to show the next page.

Who knew of the casual intimacies imbued in the act of reading together?

“It was a well-written novel,” he says simply. “Though her sins tarnished her honor, Rosalyne’s sacrifice was an act of love. Her loss did not hinder her faithfulness to Rostam.”

“I feel the same way,” you muse. “Now I understand why this book was banned centuries ago. Forbidden love between angels and humans…it certainly goes against what the Church taught us about angels. I have to give the author credit for their imagination.”

It’s just the two of you again, this time in the library. At the start of winter, you invited Capitano to your workplace. There, in your greatest show of trust, you brought him to a secret room dedicated to texts banned by the Church for promoting “blasphemy.” Fantasy, erotica, anti-Church publications, first editions of censored books, stories which merely deviated from the Church’s popular depictions of spiritual beings.

Molten Moment belongs to the last category. Little do you know that it was based on a true story, that the author had really formed a pact with a demon called La Signora. Capitano himself is mentioned in the story under his true name.

He was one of the few angels who noticed the changes in Rosalyne’s behavior. She used to be a Throne, an angel with no connection to Earth nor humanity. Yet by some twist of fate, she laid eyes on a brave knight from Mondstadt and began to meet him in her human guise.

He was the first to hear of Rosalyne’s sin, that being she saved Rostam’s life during a battle. It was a direct violation of God’s orders: Angels and demons may influence humans, but they are forbidden from directly altering a human’s lifespan.

He was a silent witness to Rosalyne’s descent. She fell from Heaven, burned by her own flames, yet she had never appeared more ecstatic. In the following years, she married Rostam and lived a happy life with him on Earth.

He was the last to recognize Rostam’s soul at the pearly gates, forever separated from his fallen lover. Such had been Rosalyne’s divine punishment, worsened by her knowledge of this possibility. But what else was she to do? To let Rostam know of her true nature? To drag his soul down to Hell, where he’d be subjected to an eternity of undeserved suffering?

Capitano is no fool. As he read Molten Moment, he began to understand Rosalyne’s sin in a new light. Half the time, he couldn’t even concentrate on the text, his human eyes repeatedly drifting to your intense reading expression.

He closes the book, leaving it in your sole grasp. But before he can stand up from the sofa, you scoot closer and lean your weight on him. The book is placed on a nearby table, forgotten.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. Your right hand, empty since the prologue, traces his left hand.

A moment of silence precedes his response. “You may.”

Wordlessly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. A gesture of intimacy, an unspoken confession. Yet as he savors your touch, Capitano wonders if you would harbor the same level of comfort around his true form.

He doubts it. As a Power, he bears an inhuman appearance on par with that of his superiors. It is his true image which has earned him the title of monster by witnessing humans.

Still, he allows himself to indulge in the blessing that is your oblivion. When you look into his two human eyes, there is a soft light in your gaze wholly free of fear.

“Spring is coming soon,” you mutter. “I can’t wait to see the flowers again. Come to think of it, there’s a variety of narcissus which grows only in late spring. It’s very pretty.”

Against his better judgment, Capitano strengthens his grip on your hand. “Shall I take it as an invitation to resume our meetings in the meadow?”

“Sure.” That is when you look up, a small smile adorning your face. “And if you can’t visit for whatever reason, I’ll pick a bouquet and preserve it for you.”

For once, Capitano is rendered speechless.

Rarely do you ever smile. Even to him, you retain your listless disposition—whether it is out of habit or lingering distance, he has yet to discern your reasons. But that is what makes it all the more special, those few instances when he is beholden to your expressions.

He wonders if this is what humans feel in the divine presence of angels, when they are borne witness to all things holy and beautiful.

Your smile is a phenomenon reserved only for the worthiest of souls. And in your grace, he has never felt more undeserving.

✿ ⚘

♡ At the end of winter, a religious war is authorized by the Church of Mondstadt. Shortly after the news reaches your town, Capitano informs you that he will be busy with “work.” He says it during another reading date, featuring Heart of Clear Springs. Before leaving, he kisses your hand and gives you a kind smile. There is a sad look in his eyes, but you don’t inquire further.

♡ In late spring, your town is attacked. With the entire area under fire, from your home to the meadow, you find yourself running back to the sacred building which you’d avoided for years. After all, though the enemy soldiers belong to a different denomination, they still worship the same god as you. In the present, the church is the only place on Earth where you can claim asylum and pray for your survival.

♡ Except every entrance is locked, including the doors to the orphanage. As the army reaches the town square, all you can do is bang on the front doors and beg to be let in. From inside, you can hear the voices of the people that luckily attended mass before the invasion. Some tell you to hide elsewhere, others beg you for forgiveness, a few sound like the nuns and caretakers who tormented you in the past.

♡ Before you can think of another sanctuary, a soldier strikes you. Pain…it has never felt more intense. Through your fading consciousness, you register your body falling and your head hitting the concrete. Blood pools from your forehead and trickles down the steps of the church, tainting it red.

♡ Life flashes before your eyes in a blurry sequence. The static images of God, sermons and bruises, unanswered prayers, people who never believed you or simply didn’t care. A birthday celebrated with your departure from the Church. Sanctuary found in the library followed by the meadow. Yet the numbness remained, each day bleeding into the next in a gloomy haze. In all those years, did you ever feel God’s love?

♡ It doesn’t matter at this point. A small part of you wonders if you should have retained your faith, continued your prayers, sought out salvation in the safety of your solitude. At least then, at the hour of your death, you wouldn’t be confronted with the fact of your humanity. The primal fear of death, the spiritual fear of ending up in Hell no matter Capitano’s reassurances.

♡ Capitano…where is he? Weakly, you call out to him but he doesn’t appear. Of course, why would he? You should feel thankful; it means he is probably safe, wherever he is. Still, you can’t help but wish he were here—if not to save you, as he has done by simply keeping you company, but to comfort you one last time. And those are the thoughts which plague you in your final moments, an unheard prayer on the tip of your tongue.

“I pray that we meet again, myself and the first person who truly loved me.”

♡ ______ died on a cloudy day, one of many people persecuted in the name of God. After the Church was destroyed and its followers slaughtered, their body was buried in a mass grave that once flourished with nature. There was a poignant quality to their countenance, an air of distress as transient as the flowers planted above them.

♡ At least, that is how your story ends from the perspectives of the survivors. But to the angels and demons who witnessed the destruction of your town, your death was only the end of a chapter in your life. In their eyes, Capitano had been present all throughout, an invisible witness to your death, absolute in his refusal to perform an unauthorized miracle.

♡ He remained by your side until the light faded from your eyes. That was when he took notice of the bouquet of narcissus clutched in your hand, tainted with blood despite your feeble efforts to save his gift. A soldier approached your corpse, intending to drag it down the steps for burial; but before they could touch you, Capitano appeared before them.

♡ It was only for a brief second, but the soldier drew back and cowered in fear. In the following days, they were haunted by the memory of the angelic figure who appeared outside the Church of Mondstadt. Or more precisely, the monster who prayed over a bloodstained corpse and took a bouquet of ruined flowers out of their grasp.

✿ ⚘

From the moment you wake up, all peace leaves the meadow.

What happened? Your memory comes back in hazy fragments—death, darkness, blinding light, pearly gates, ethereal figures. Most vivid is the sensation of strong arms and soft feathers, a familiar warmth which accompanied you throughout your journey.

As for your current surroundings, you are in a meadow so beautiful that it brings to mind the Garden of Eden. Flowers of every variety bloom across the scenery, some out of season. The sky is bright, sunless, a canvas of multiple colors. There are no other signs of life.

Internally, too, something feels off. A nearby pond provides a glimpse of your reflection—white garments, gold scars in place of your fatal injuries, your disoriented countenance. If this place is what you think it is…shouldn’t you feel at peace, happy even? And why are you alone?

Your gaze lands on a patch of flowers. Pure white, perianth petals, cup-shaped coronas…the same type of narcissus which grew in your favorite meadow. The flowers point in different directions, as though searching for a sun that does not exist.

“You are awake.”

A shadow touches your form, engulfing you in darkness. It bears a large, unrecognizable shape but such details evade you as you recognize the voice behind you.

“Capitano!” Immediately, you turn around, only to gasp and suppress a scream.

The person before you…can you even call him human? He is incredibly tall, to the point that you must crane your neck to see his face—assuming there is one beneath his iron mask. His body is clad in silver armor, stained blood in some places. A halo, shaped like a crown of thorns, shines behind his head.

But what shocks you are his wings. A single pair covered in radiant white feathers and eerily dark blue eyes. Each eye seems to glow with an uncanny aura.

Dark blue eyes with a striking resemblance to Capitano’s. What more for his long black hair and his solemn manner of speaking?

It doesn’t make your revelation any less unsettling.

“Capitano.” Your voice comes out in a nervous whisper. “Is it really you? You’re a…”

“An angel,” he confesses. He takes a step back, widening the distance between your bodies. “I ask that you pardon my appearance. Such was my sacrifice—for my true form, in all of its monstrosity, to be my sole image.”

His human face comes to mind, along with the kind gaze you fell in love with.

You feel the weight of multiple gazes on you. “What do you mean?”

“Is this realm to your satisfaction?” he asks. “I beseeched God to create a special paradise for you, cut off from the rest of Heaven. The price is that your capacity to feel negative emotions remains in this realm…though that is preferable.”

Preferable? How so? Right now, you can barely process what he is telling you. You are dead. Your companion is an angel. Your soul is in paradise, but not exactly.

After everything you’ve been through, you were still deemed worthy of a place in Heaven.

“I am sorry.”

Capitano’s voice brings you back to reality. He has never sounded more serious, emotional, repentant. And when you look up…

Is he crying?

Most of his eyes remain open, focusing on you with a fervent stare. But others are downcast, as if unable to face you. And a few appear glossy, blinking back iridescent tears.

“I am truly sorry.” He bows his head in shame, wings folded. “What I did to you was cruel, an absolute injustice.”

You don’t know which eyes to make contact with. “You—”

“It must have been painful,” he continues. “Even if I were to justify my actions, the truth lies in the fact that I tolerated your suffering for my own selfish desires. And that is why I ask not for your forgiveness, knowing I am the one at fault.”

Silence. In light of Capitano’s confession, all you can do is stare at him and comprehend the weight of your situation. What exactly are you supposed to feel, knowing his betrayal? Knowing that regardless of your feelings, you have nowhere else to go in the afterlife?

Yet despite it all, your prayer came true. The two of you were able to meet again.

And that is what compels you to take a step forward, to come closer until you are standing in front of him. “Hey, it’s…don’t cry.”

A delicate sensation blesses his wings—your hands carefully tracing his feathers to wipe away his tears. Several eyes widen in surprise, but all he can see in your gaze is sympathy.

“I’ll admit, it was painful,” you tell him. “Dying alone. But maybe it’s…better this way. If I survived, I’d have to deal with the loss of my home. And who knows what kind of living hell the other Church would’ve put me through?”

Above all, Capitano is the only person whose love you can believe in.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. The next words to leave your lips are spoken with certainty, bringing fresh tears to his eyes.

“I’m sure it was an act of love on your part.”

His reaction is sudden, incurring your surprise. But all you can do is surrender to Capitano’s embrace, allow his free arm to hold your waist and pull you closer to him. His wings wrap around you, caging you in soft feathers and eerie blue orbs.

“Capitano?” You can only look up at him, peering into the contents of his mask.

…It’s like staring into an abyss, a night sky dotted with twinkling blue stars. But in the absence of a human likeness, his words express what a face cannot.

“Never again,” he vows, “shall I allow harm to befall you. That is a promise.”

The hand on your waist moves upwards to caress your face. His touch is light, more hesitant than his previous gestures.

“You need not serve God nor partake in fruitful labor like the other souls in Heaven. All I ask is that you rest, indulge yourself, enjoy this paradise to the fullest.”

A flower is pinned to his armor, right above his heart. You recognize it instantly—a narcissus in full bloom, stained with your blood.

“If you desire a flower, it shall grow at once. If there are any books you would like to read, they shall be brought to you shortly.”

What was the name of that variety again? Narcissus triandrus. Angel’s tears.

“If you are in need of my presence, I shall appear before you, so long as I am not in the midst of battle. And should you ever desire the opposite, I can promise my distance.”

When Capitano looks into your eyes, all he can see is his own reflection. Whatever emotion colors your gaze, it casts his true image in a compassionate light.

“I shall do everything in my power to bring you joy for all of eternity. Such will be my penance.”

“...All right.” With that, you close your eyes and lean into his touch. He feels warm, comfortingly familiar. “I’ll trust you on that.”

Rest in peace, ______.

Think not of your mortal body in the beginning stages of decay.

Think not of your tormentors who are paying for their sins in Hell.

Think only of eternity with your beloved savior.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

Aahhhh it's done....this idea turned out much heavier than expected, but I'm glad that I was able to write this!! I hope you all cried over enjoyed the story of Angel! Capitano and his damsel. They were truly a delight to write for~

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @diodellet @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @harmonysanreads @mochinon-yah @oofasleep @micchikari @whispereons @thescribeoflostmemories

[pupsmailbox]

GOTH ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. addam. alister. amelia. amoret. ange. angel. angelo. anubis. arch. archette. ash. aslan. aspen. astor. astoria. astrophel. atticus. axelle. azazel. azrael. bael. bat. batsy. bella. bellatrix. blade. blair. blanchette. brahms. branwen. cain. callan. calliope. cannibelle. caskeite. casketta. caskette. caspian. celeste. celestia. chaos. charlotte. cherry. chira. chiraelle. chiro. chiroptairre. chiroptelle. chiropteranne. choir. christian. cofette. coffin. coffine. constantine. corbin. corpse. crimson. crow. crowley. damian. damien. demonesse. divina. dorian. draven. edgar. elatha. elijah. elix. elwin, elwin. elwood. ember. emmaline. etienne. evan. evangeline. eve. faith. forest. forrest. frill. frille. frilleine. frilliette. frilly. genesis. ghost. gothita. gothitelle. gothitess. gothitesse. grey. gwen. gypsy. hades. hawthorne. hecate. hemlock. imortalle. imortella. iris. israel. jakob. jet. jett. johnas. josiah. judas. kain. kane. kedi. keir. lacey. laciene. laciette. lazarus. leo. lilith. lilithe. lolita. lucid. lucien. lucifer. lucius. luscious. lynx. maeve. malice. mana. martyr. max. melancholy. merle. micah. michael. misery. mordred. morris. mors. morte. mortis. mourge. mourgette. myrette. nightshade. noah. noctre. nocturne. noir. obsidian. oleander. omen. onyx. orion. orpheus. ozul. ozzy. prince. prophet. raven. ravenie. raveniette. rook. rowan. ruby. saber. saint. salem. samael. samuel. scarlet. secrette. seraph. serenity. shilo. shiloh. silas. silver. silvester. skelly. skulliene. skulliette. skully. sorrow. sylvester. syn. thorn. thorne. tobias. tommy. trix. umbriel. valkyrie. valo. vervain. vesper. victoria. ville. violetta. vito. vlad. woundie. zeon. zephyrine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abby/abby. ae/aer. ash/ash. bat/bat. bleed/bleed. blood/blood. book/book. bug/bug. burn/burn. chain/chain. chap/chapel. chill/chill. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. cob/cobweb. cof/coffin. coffin/coffin. corps/corpse. creep/creep. cri/cross. cro/cros. cross/cross. cross/crosse. da/dark. dae/dae. dae/daem. dark/dark. decay/decay. dee/dark. des/despair. devout/devout. div/divine. dust/dust. echo/echo. edge/edgy. en/envie. fae/fang. fang/fang. fe/fear. fie/fiend. fog/fog. fri/frill. frill/frill. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. goth/goth. goth/gothic. gra/grave. grave/grave. ha/haunt. halo/halo. hie/hiem. ho/holy. holy/holy. horn/horn. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ink/ink. lace/lace. lae/lace. lost/lost. mist/mist. moon/moon. net/fishnet. ni/night. night/night. null/null. par/parasol. parasol/parasol. pray/pray. pray/prayer. proph/prophet. ro/rose. rose/rose. rot/rot. rust/rust. sac/sacrifice. saint/saint. scar/scar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. si/sinister. sin/sin. sku/skull. skull/skull. snake/snake. spider/spider. spike/spike. sto/storm. stud/stud. thou/thorn. thron/thorn. thxy/thxm. vae/vaer. ve/ver. velvet/velvet. vo/void. whis/whisper. whisper/whisper. witch/witch. wood/wood. x/x. xae/xaer. × . ♠️ . ♣️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . 🌑 . 💀 . 🕯 . 🕷 . 🕸 . 🖤 . 🥀 . 🦇 .

[vellichorom]

HAPPY STANLEY PARABLE 10TH ANNIVERSARY!

today seems like a good day to FINALLY post a boatload of parable congestion i've been saving up these past couple months, FEATURING !!!

parable buddies !!!!!!!!!!!! including!

@callixspod's adventure line Linney, @melancholys-inc's narrator Pixel, @give-soup-please's narrator Nar, @ihazmunchies91's Core Narrator / Narold, @the-friendliest-freak's narrator Nora, @coralkrill's narrator Noah ( & who's that with him huh... ), @bucketfullofstrawberries's narrator Remmy, @theoceansleviathan's narrator Simon, @miiints-repostiory's narrator Aesop, & @theyaoiparable's narrator Seraph!

MY BEAUTIFUL MUTUALS & FRIENDS ALIKE !!!!! happy parable holidays 💛💛💛

[hazbininlove]

Hopelessly Devoted

Chapter 1

-About 5k of worldbuilding and angst

There’s an angel in Heaven few know of. Some wonder if she purposely let herself be forgotten, and others know that her isolation isn’t entirely her own fault.

Heaven’s structure wasn’t as simple as Hell’s mainly due to the fact that there were so many roles to play. Not every Archangel and or Virtue was a Seraphim. Seraphim has always been the highest rank, but even amongst themselves there was another ranking system not many knew of, and even they had other angels that outranked them due solely to the Divine’s words. Everyone had their own task, some, the Archangels, were given their tasks directly from the Divine.

The Seven, as they were called, were the Capital Virtues, angels with the rank of Archangel, dedicated undoubtedly to the Divine’s will. As extensions of the Divine, they were rarely seen within any city of Heaven besides possibly the Primum Mobile, where the Divine resided. Few winners were allowed there because only Virtuous Souls could enter those gates. While there were many virtues, the Seven were the ones to look towards to enforce the Divine’s will both in Heaven, and on Earth.

And within that Primum Mobile, the Heaven of the Angels, resides a Seraphim with the rank of Archangel, not a virtue but an angel nearly as old. She’s been around since before the Earth’s creation, long before the Garden of Eden.

She remained there in the Primum Mobile, kept within the walls of the palace, free to leave but knowing it was best to stay. Michael looked upon her, saddened by her melancholy that has not left her for thousands of years. She sat within the library, her black hair falling down her back in gentle waves as wisps of hair fell towards her midnight blue eyes. The two streaks of white weaves through her hair on either side of her. Her lips were set in a straight line, the blue circular marks on the corner of her mouth a stark contrast to the gray of her skin. She flipped the page of her book as he approached, and when she sensed him, she looked up to him with a soft smile on her face.

“Michael, always a pleasure,” she says, and though her tone is welcoming, Michael can still see the pain within her eyes when she looks at him. It breaks his heart knowing exactly why it’s there, but he feels no regret for following the task that the Divine gave him. He knows she understands this, but he also knows that it does nothing to ease her suffering, and nothing has for eons.

“Esther, my dear, when was the last time you left these walls?”

She looks away from him and back to her book, her fingers absently toying with the pages. “I sat in the Garden with Ramiel a few days ago.”

He sighs, knowing that it likely took weeks just to get her to do that much.

“You aren’t confined here, not anymore, and you know that. I know we… I made the mistake of keeping you here long ago as a precaution but that was centuries ago now. You are free to roam the cities as you once did, to roam Earth should you choose to! It pains us to see you like this,” he says, reaching forward to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. His hand slides down her cheek towards her chin to lift her face and see her eyes. “We miss our Eveningstar.”

“I am the Seraph and Archangel of balance, and yet I feel none,” she whispers to him, and his heart breaks for her. “I understand why I was kept here, you know I’ve never questioned the Divine’s words, but it does nothing to fill the emptiness I feel. A half of me is gone, Michael, and I’ll never get him back. Your Eveningstar is here, but my Morningstar is forever out of reach.”

His hand moves back to her cheek, and her eyes flutter closed and she leans into his touch.

“If I gave you a task, one that forced you out of these walls, would you follow it?” He asks her gently.

“A task from you means a task sent from the Divine. Of course I will follow it,” she replies, her voice a bit louder now, with a hint of playfulness. He knows she isn’t happy about it, but as she said, she will follow if that is what the Divine asks of her.

“Gabriel gave me the message, as he thought it was best that I give it to you. There is apparently a meeting today for the Head Council of the first Sphere, one that Sera seemed to not notify us of. The Divine knows, of course, but wouldn’t speak more of it. All Gabriel said was that you were to go to this meeting, assess what Sera is keeping from us, and report back.”

Michael didn’t care much for Sera. She was nice enough, and her devotion was clear, but there was something about her that reminded him a bit of his brother. She wasn’t a dreamer, and she knew when to keep her head down and voice quiet, but she also looked too calculating and too ambitious.

“It sounds like you are keeping something from me as well,” Esther replies, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

He was keeping something from her. He knows it’s best to tell her now instead of letting her be surprised later, but there’s no easy way to say it. “Gabriel has reason to believe that the request for the meeting came from Hell.”

He watches her eyes widen a bit, her jaw falling just slightly as she leans away from his hand. He tries to follow, to keep her grounded, but she leans closer to him now. “If the meeting came from Hell, that can only mean that he requested it.”

“Yes.”

Her breath stutters, and he can see her visibly shaken. “Thousands of years kept here to ensure I don’t see him and all of a sudden, I’m asked to go see him? Michael, what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” he responds, truthful in his answers. He won’t lie to her, he can’t, but he wishes that he could. “If it was up to me, I’d go myself, but Gabriel said that the task was given only to you. I don’t know if it will be him, or Lilith, or… or their daughter. All Gabriel was able to say was that it has something to do with Hell.”

He hates having to be the one to remind her that the Morningstar moved on and had a child. He remembers the day that Gabriel delivered the news. He’d watched as she’d stretched her wings before curling the highest pair over her eyes as she turned and walked away from them, hiding herself deeper into the palace. They hadn’t seen a single tear fall, but Michael still recalls the small broken sound she’d made before hiding away from the rest of them.

He watches again now as her wings settle behind her with a flurry of silver dust, and she stands from her seat. The wings closest to her head, just as before, curl around her, concealing her face from view once more. Her lowest pair curls around her legs, still giving her room to walk but still wrapped like a comforting embrace. The middle pair don’t wrap around her, but they remain limp behind her as if there wasn’t a single bone in them.

“When is the meeting?” She asks him quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. He wants to reach out and comfort her, but she’s already moving towards the door.

“Tomorrow,” he replies. He watches her pause at the doorway for a moment before she turns slightly towards him. Her face is still hidden from him but she gives him a small bow of her head in acknowledgment before walking away.

He has a terrible feeling about this, but he can’t do anything about it. All he can do is trust the Divine as he too leaves the library, letting his own pair of wings come out as he flies back to where he’d last seen Gabriel.

——————————

Charlie recalls being in Heaven and seeing an angel with dark hair and midnight blue eyes. Her skin was gray, just slightly darker than Vaggie’s, and her cheeks had blue circles on them, much like her own and her father’s red cheek marks. She could tell the woman was a high ranking angel, based on the six wigs like her father’s though hers were blue on the inside where he father’s were a deep red. She was beautiful, just as all the other angels there, but there was something about her that felt familiar.

What really got Charlie had been the angel’s eyes. She smiled at those who greeted her, keeping her expression kind and welcoming, but her smile never reached her eyes. It almost looked like she wasn’t truly seeing the people she was speaking to, a far away look in her eyes. She kept her interactions to a minimum.

When Charlie had asked Emily about her, she watched the Seraphim of Joy’s eyes widen happily before abruptly tensing and looking nervous. She looked between Charlie and the other angel with fidgeting hands and cleared her throat.

“That’s Esther…. She’s the Eveningstar,” Emily had said.

Charlie remembers tensing as well, looking back to where she was walking in a new direction. She’s wanted to approach Esther, to say something, but she kept herself rooted in her spot. What could she even say? Hi, I’m Charlie Morningstar, you know the daughter your other half had with someone else!

And how stupid would that sound? Did Esther even know of Charlie’s existence? Did she know that Charlie was even there?

And then she saw her in the meeting. Even Sera had seemed surprised to see her, but Esther kept her gaze on Charlie the whole time. Charlie’s heart nearly broke seeing that far away look in your eyes clear for a moment, likely seeing her resemblance to her father. Esther’s smile never faltered, but there was definitely a sadder quality to it.

Sera seemed to want to continue speaking to her, but she’d excused herself and flew to a higher viewing point beside Emily. Sera looked frustrated, but hadn’t said more, just flew to join them on the podium.

And then that disastrous meeting had happened. Esther had seemed as receptive as Emily, until the moment Adam slipped and mentioned the exterminations. Esther’s eyes had widened, she hadn’t said much, but Charlie could see the glow around her increasing in size and the anger in her expression.

She’d been flung back to hell before she could hear how that ended.

And now, just days since her hotel was rebuilt after the destruction Adam caused, she hadn’t expected to see a portal open in the sky just outside her hotel and Esther come flying down.

The portal had alerted all of them. They rushed to get weapons ready, her dad already had his wings out and ready until they saw who it was. The others kept their weapons up, but Charlie dropped her weapon in surprise and watched as her dad’s wings drooped and his eyes widened in shock.

Esther looked as beautiful as she did the last time Charlie saw her. Her black hair fell around her face and down just past her shoulders in waves. She still had that same sad, soft smile on her face, though her eyes looked more present. Her wings, just as large and radiant as her father’s, fluttered gently around her to keep her afloat.

Charlie watches as Esther looks to her dad briefly before focusing her attention back to herself. She could feel her dad’s confused gaze as Esther approached her, her smile dropping to a frown as she spoke.

“I apologize that I couldn’t be here soon and stop them. Things in Heaven have been… hectic, to say the least. But I wanted to let you know in person that I’ve been doing everything I can to make sure these exterminations never happen again,” Esther said. Her voice is melodic, but soft and almost airy. It felt so different from her father’s richer tone of voice. She sounded and looked so apologetic as she spoke, and based on her reaction back in the meeting, Charlie didn’t doubt that she truly was. “Sera did a great job of keeping her secrets, but the other Seraphim have been made aware, including the Seven, have been made aware now, and they won’t allow for further oversight.”

Charlie cheers with her friends, all excited about the news that there would be no further exterminations, but she could see her dad’s uncertain expression.

“You expect me to believe that the others, that Michael, are just going to leave us alone?” Lucifer asks, his tone doubtful.

Charlie watches as Esther’s wings rattle, the feathers ruffling just slightly, and her eyes close. She takes a deep breath before she turns to Lucifer with a sad expression, her frown deepening. “We haven’t seen each other in eons, and that is the first thing you say to me, Morningstar?”

Lucifer tenses further, pulled tight like a band ready to snap. He looks properly scolded in a way Charlie hasn’t seen anyone besides herself or her mother be capable of.

“It’s uh…it’s been a while? How’ve you been, Eveningstar? You don’t look like you’ve aged a day past a thousand!”

Oh, he’s nervous. Her dad only rambled like that when he was nervous. It’d be a bit funny, if it wasn’t so awkward and a little sad to see him so anxious when confronted by the person who might as well be his soulmate. He was trying to look anywhere but at her, his hands moving sporadically as he fixed his collar, patted down his sleeves, or adjusted his hat.

Her wings curl around her, the top most moving to shield her face, but she doesn’t completely hide it from view. Her dad doesn’t see her expression, still caught up in trying to force his attention anywhere else, but he sees her wings shift, and by the time he looks back, Esther has focused back on Charlie.

“Azrael may come down, as the angel of death, he’s the most upset by this, but Michael is more upset by Sera’s lies than anything else. Unless it is something that directly affects the Divine and Heaven’s safety, he’ll stay in his place. As of now, your actions are seen as a necessary sign of self defense, and that is something even Michael can acknowledge. Unless you plan to directly attack Heaven, Michael has no need to act.”

It’s a relief, and it’s clear on her face because Esther’s smile grows a bit more warm, and a bit more genuine. And just as quickly as it was there, her smile fell again when her dad mumbled “He sure didn’t hesitate to act when I gave Eve the apple.”

“Well luckily self-defense and allowing evil into the world seem to be offenses on opposite sides of the spectrum,” Esther replied, glaring down at him. She wasn’t as tall as Charlie, but she was taller than Vaggie and her dad. Her dad grumbles a bit but doesn’t say anything else, thankfully.

Esther quickly looks to Charlie once more, her smile now a bit sharper due to her annoyance with Lucifer, but kind all the same.

“Wait a sec,” Angel Dust interrupts, stepping forward. “What the actual fuck is going on? We’re just going to ignore the fact that these two know each other?” he asks, pointing between Lucifer and Esther. “And Eveningstar? Morningstar? Hello?!”

“Angel, for once, consider shutting the fuck up,” Vaggie says, groaning as she looks over at the taller sinner.

“What?” Angel whines back. “You can’t expect me to not be surprised when meeting an angel older than Earth who isn’t trying to kill me!””

“I suppose I should introduce myself. I apologize for not doing so earlier,” Esther said, turning to the larger group. “My name is Esther Eveningstar, the Archangel of balance. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“So are you two related or some shit?” Husk asks, just as confused as the rest. Lucifer looks disgusted at the thought, and Esther looks horrified.

“Oh Heavens, no!” Her wings fluttered a bit, and Charlie couldn’t help but be impressed how expressive she was with her wings. “We were um… well…”

“We are a pair,” Lucifer interrupts, looking distraught and completely hurt by her struggle to put their relationship into words. “We’re the original pair.”

Esther looks sad, eyes downcast and her hands fidgeting with the skirt of her dress. “Yes, a pair. We were named the sphere we were created for, Venus, the Morning and Evening Star, the closest to Earth, the first and last seen as the Sun rises and falls. I was created after Lucifer, as a companion… a pair. An even balance.”

“And yet, you spent more time apart than together! How interesting,” Alastor adds. Esther visibly deflates at this, and Lucifer’s teeth grit as his sclera briefly shifts to red.

“Yes, well, things happen, of course! I mean, given the universe's track record I think it’s fair to say that forcing a pair is never for the best. I mean, when has it ever worked, right?” she replies, an awkward chuckle as she continues to stretch the fabric of her dress.

“Hold on now,” Lucifer says, taking a step towards her. She seems to lean towards him, giving herself just that one moment, before she flinches and takes a step back. Lucifer pauses too, unsure of what to do. His voice grows softer, much more gentle now than the awkward banter of earlier. “We worked. We work! We definitely work. I mean, they were based on us!”

“And they separated rather quickly, didn’t they?” Esther asked back, knowing exactly what he was talking about. “Then the next wanted more, and you wanted someone else. How many pairs were made after that?”

The Story of Hell, Charlie realizes quickly. They’re talking about Adam and Lilith being a failed pair, followed by Eve’s temptation for more knowledge despite being created specifically for Adam from a piece of Adam’s own body. And the fall, wanting someone else; Esther didn’t have the book. She didn’t know Lucifer’s and Lilith’s side. To her, Lucifer had abandoned her for someone else, for Lilith.

“No, Esther, no, please, you can’t honestly tell me that you believe that. You know I didn’t leave you for someone else. You know, I never meant to let evil in, or to fall, or- or any of it! Please, Es, you have to know that,” Lucifer pleads with her.

And Charlie sees the exact moment, when her dad reaches out to touch her, that Esther sees her dad’s hand, shifts her eyes to look directly at Charlie, and looks back at Lucifer with a look that looks so much like defeat and acceptance that it nearly makes Charlie feel sick.

Vaggie’s hand squeezes her own, and Charlie knows she saw it too. The worst part is, she knows Esther isn’t blaming her, isn’t putting any fault on her, but part of her feels like she is the problem here. If she hadn’t been born, would this whole situation have been different? Would their reunion have been more pleasant, or heartfelt?

“I know you didn’t mean for evil to find its way to Earth, or for Hell’s creation,” Esther says back, just as gentle as Lucifer’s when he spoke, and just as broken. It doesn’t escape any of them that she said nothing about being left for someone else, because at the end of the day, Lucifer may not have fallen in love with anyone else, but that didn’t mean he remained entirely faithful either. And while it seemed that he had moved on, likely the way so many in Heaven believed, she had not. And Charlie couldn’t blame her. The majority of Hell’s residents, he’ll born and sinner alike, didn’t even know her part in the story. Most books erased her part entirely and made her parent’s story one of love. Her parent’s never even married.

Esther takes a step away from them, away from Lucifer, and she pretends she doesn’t see his heart break as he looks at her with eyes overflowing with pain.

Instead, Charlie watches as Esther’s attention is focused back on her once more. “Gabriel also wanted me to mention that your hotel works, and the Divine would be pleased to see you continue with this plan of yours. Sinner has arrived at the first Sphere, a being by the name of Sir Pentious, I believe Emily said.”

“What?” Charlie gasps, shock taking over. Beside her, Vaggie has let go of her hand to grab her shoulders, shaking her a bit. “It- It worked?! Sir Pentious is alive?!”

Esther smiles at her and takes her hands, bringing them together. “He is doing well, as far as the reports say. Emily has tasked herself with taking care of him.”

It doesn’t take long for Charlie to start sobbing. Esther looks flustered, unsure of what to do, but Vaggie brings her closer into a hug and Esther’s hands drop from hers.

“You hear that, Vaggie? We did it! Sir Pentious is in Heaven now,” she says between sobs, grabbing at the back of Vaggie’s shirt. She feels Vaggie patting her hair, shushing her a bit to try and calm her.

”Holy shit, it actually works! Well damn, guess it’s time to get serious, huh?” Angel remarks from the side. Vaggie gives him a glare, likely at the implication that he hadn’t been taking them seriously before, and his second set of arms raise in defense.

“So the big fella upstairs isn’t about to smite us or something?” Husk asks, pushing Angel out of the way.

”Of course not! The Divine is always just in punishment and forgiveness. Human souls are the Divine’s children just as the angels. All are worthy of forgiveness should they seek it and work virtuously towards it. Forgiveness is not easy to obtain, but it is worth the effort,” Esther explains to them.

“But, why now? Why didn’t any of this come up before the Exterminations were started?” Vaggie asks.

Esther shakes her head. “It is not my place to question the Divine. Rarely are we given clear answers, usually just a push in the direction that leads us where we need to go. I must keep my belief that everything happens for a reason the Divine chooses. Every task we are given is from the Divine, and we follow it without question.”

”So he probably knew of the extermination and knew that Sera chick was keeping secrets this whole time, and just let it happen?” Angel adds. Esther visibly winces.

”It sounds terrible, I know. None of us are happy about it. But again, we have to trust there is a reason for all of this. There is a reason that now is the time to put an end to it. I believe it’s because of you, Charlie,” she says, smiling towards her.

”Me?”

Esther chuckles at her incredulous reply. “You may be hellborn but… you are the daughter of an angel. You’re a demon, yes, but you’re also technically a Nephilim.”

”What’s a Nephilim?” Nifty asks, having climbed up onto Alastor’s shoulders. Esther smiles up at her.

“A Nephilim is a child born of an angel and a human.” She looks back at Charlie now. “You’ve certainly got an interesting mix in you; a Seraphim, a Human, and a Demon all combined. Not only that, but the first of each kind! I believe if anyone would be capable of bringing upon redemption for the souls of sinners, it would be someone capable of understanding both sides.”

She laughs a bit at the awestruck looks they are shifting between her and Charlie. She didn’t think it would be that surprising, considering it’s no secret that Lucifer was not only a Seraphim, but a Archangel and Virtue himself, but it seems Lucifer didn’t mention much about Heaven to her.

“I will be returning every so often, to check on your progress as well as keep you up to date on the status of Heaven. As I mentioned before, Sera will be punished for her actions. How the Divine chooses to do so has yet to be seen, but Gabriel and Michael will likely be the ones to deal with that. Now,” she says, her tone lowering slightly as she turns back to Lucifer, expression once again tense. “Samael, a word in private, please?”

She bows slightly to the group before turning and walking away. Charlie looks around in confusion as to who Samael was, if another angel had been with her, when see’s her dad’s shoulders raise and back straighten. He shifts slightly on his feet before trudging behind her, dragging his feet the whole time.

”Am I missing something else? Who the fuck is Samael?” Angel asks.

”It’s Lucifer,” Vaggie replies. Even Charlie looks at her, confused. “I thought you guys knew this? You know how before you got to hell, you thought Lucifer and Satan were the same person? It’s kinda like that. His name is Lucifer, always has been, but every Archangel, every Virtue, has a name in reference to God. His name was Samael. And like most of the high ranking angels, he had a lot of roles.”

”How do you know all this?” Charlie asks. “And what were his roles? The Story of Hell doesn’t mention any of that.”

Vaggie shrugs. “Heaven’s got a lot of books, and I had a lot of time. Plus, your dad doesn’t like to talk about Heaven, so I’m not surprised he made sure it wasn’t in the book. He was known as a lot of things; an angel of music who led the choirs in God’s name, the Virtue of Humility, and an angel of death, created to destroy sin.”

”You expect me to believe the first sin, the sin of Pride, the one that created this damned place, was a Virtue?” Husk asks. He looks irritated, and Vaggie’s expression matches his.

”He was one of the original Capital Virtues, one of the Seven. But every Virtue has a Vice and Lucifer fell to his. He hated sin, but he also wasn’t against it. It’s why he was called a dreamer. He wanted people to have free will, because he wanted people to be able to choose between right and wrong, and hoped that if humans were created to be as good as God said, they wouldn’t choose wrong.”

”But they did,” Charlie replies, voice just above a whisper. Vaggie nods at her interruption.

“I think it’s why he allowed the exterminations in the first place. He allowed for free will, allowed the possibility of sin, but he never meant for evil to come with it, or hell to be created. So he allowed sinners to be killed, because that was one of his tasks as an angel of death, to destroy sin.”

”But he’s now the Sin of Pride, he may hate it, but he’ll never say that he was wrong. And he wasn’t! People should have the chance to choose for themselves! He should take pride in that,” Charlie says, wanting to defend her dad. From who, she isn’t sure, maybe the universe at this point. None of this felt fair. It felt like he was doomed from the start.

”I know, sweetheart. I’m just saying, there’s a lot more to the story than just Hell’s side of things,” Vaggie replies, patting her arm. “So yeah, Lucifer is the name he was given as a Seraphim based on his Sphere, but Samael is the name he was given based on his role as an Archangel and Virtue.”

”Why does this sound like it’s gonna turn into a whole lesson. I thought I had enough school time when I was alive, don’t tell me I gotta deal with this shit in death too. And you angels keep talkin’ about Spheres! The fuck is that supposed to be?” Angel whines. Husk elbows him in the hip and he whines more, swatting at his arm.

”The same way Hell has it’s seven rings, Heaven has it’s seven spheres. It’s… a lot, honestly, and I think we can save the Heaven History lessons for another day, because there’s a lot to get into and I think we’ve all had enough for the day.”

”Quite so,” Alastor says. “How about we all head back into the hotel and let our King handle the rest. I’m sure he’ll tell us if there’s anything else of importance we need to know.”

Nifty hops off of him and starts walking back to the hotel without question, giggling to herself about all the bugs she’s sure to catch now that she’s given them a chance to roam. Husk and Angel shrug and follow, most likely already planning to sit at the bar and drink themselves under the table after all the revelations they’ve had today.

Charlie looks to where her dad and Esther are still talking, neither of them really looking at the other, but both still somehow almost leaning towards each other.

”They’ll be okay, Charlie,” Vaggie says, taking her hand once more. “Unconditional, remember?”

”Yeah,” Charlie replies, looking down at her girlfriend with a small smile. “I just hope that’s enough for them.”

——————————————————

Oh boy this took me a while to figure out how to write.

To make it clear, Esther and Lucifer were never married, but they were in a romantic relationship, which is why Esther believes Lucifer did cheat on her and believes part of the reason he and Lilith did what they did and fell is because of that.

The worldbuilding is mostly about Heaven. Since we don’t see much of it in the show, there’s a lot to speculate on. The same way the show sort of reference’s Dante’s rings of hell, I’m also going to base Heaven loosely on Dante’s spheres of paradise.

Also! I drew a picture of how I see Esther in my style, as well as a little doodle of how I’d draw Lucifer in my own style (yes, I gave him a little nose). The same way Lucifer has a lighter streak in his hair, I wanted Esther to have something similar, but ended up with just two streaks of white on both sides of her hair. I tried a couple different hairstyles and outfits on her before I settled on this one (though part of me is debating if I want her to eventually cut her hair. I haven’t decided yet).

[lorkai]

*･゜ﾟ Request: A request for an angsty Lucifer and Michael fic

*･゜ﾟ A/N: Wow, I loved this request. I kind of wanted to write to Michael before but I didn't have any good ideas so thanks for asking, anonie and hope you like it!

*･゜ﾟ Warnings: Angst, hurt / comfort, nightmares, possible typos, gn!reader. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

"Spare him, you bastard!" Is what Lucifer would scream if he weren't tied up and with his mouth covered, body and mind tired, almost collapsing on the hard floor of Michael's giant torture room. Small drops of blood trickled down his swollen cheeks, but the sight in front of him was far more painful than the way he felt at the moment.

He didn't mind the cuts on his body, the hard, uncomfortable floor he was forced to lie on by Rafael and watch as Michael tortured his little family. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he felt his hands as hot as if they were melting, fighting against the bonds that bound him, asking anyone who would listen to help his family.

His dearest brother.

The one that Lucifer scolded every time because he was always up to no good, but who made him laugh every time with his schemes, that brother he loved to pamper to see his precious smile and brought him little gifts from his travels. This brother was suspended in the air by the hand of the manic seraph. Red veins gleamed in his watery eyes, hid hand extended in the air as if asking for his older brother's help. Lucifer could almost feel his lungs losing air as he tried to breathe. Once, twice. The air did not seem to be inhaled.

And a loud sob escaped his throat as his brother's lifeless body fell to the floor. His eyes staring at Lucifer full of judgment and an unanswered plea for help. The same look he saw in Lilith's eyes as she fell, or in Asmo's swollen face that could never be admired after what Michael had done.

After he tried to fix each one of them.

"If only you were stronger, big brother…" mocked Michael, mimicking Levi's voice. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and let his head fall back, enjoying the feel of fresh blood dripping from his fingers.

Cruelly, he sat down on Mammon's dead body. It was almost as if he didn't care that once, in the very distant time when they were all brothers, he had taught the dead angel about the constellations and the duties of an angel. It was as if he didn't feel love or empathy for either him, or Levi and especially Lucifer's son, whom received a much worse and more painful death.

"Oh, if only you still had your flaming sword that you loved to brag about." Michael shrugged, the corners of his lips pulling up almost demonically from his face as he licked the blood from his fingers and maintained eye contact with Lucifer, seeming to drink in the essence of despair and pain emanating from the MorningStar.

And Lucifer averted his eyes downward. He couldn't stand it all, couldn't stand the pain, couldn't stand his weakness, couldn't stand the thought that he was now all alone in the world. And few tears leaked from his red eyes, almost as if he didn't have many to cry from the shock.

The world seemed a little grayer, a little more monotonous. He felt as if everything had stopped around him, coming to a complete standstill as his brothers' bodies decorated the ground with blood and limbs. And the smell, one he had come to know when he became a demon and killed other demons, that specific smell of iron made him feel nauseous.

Raphael violently grabbed Lucifer's hair and abruptly lifted him so that he made eye contact with Michael once more, pulling him out of his melancholy thoughts.

The seraph had moved closer and closer to him as the fallen angel was lost within his suffering and the smile on his face widened as he savored every feeling seen in Lucifer's beautiful eyes. Michael massaged his dearest brother's hoed cheeks, as he had when he was a child. But the gesture had lost its meaning, it no longer comforted him. That gesture caused him hatred and suffering.

"Why…?"

Why did Michael kill them all?

Why cause so much pain?

Why hasn't he killed him yet?

Raphael touched Michael's shoulder and handed him a golden dagger. A dagger used to kill angels and demons, and only one that was in the possession of seraphs. And Michael watched the way the light reflected off the blade, admired it, and then looked at Lucifer.

"Because you and your brothers are flaws that shouldn't exist," he whispered softly. "the Father commands this to happen and I am His hands, so I will do His will."

A quick move. And pools of blood erupted from the thin skin of Lucifer's neck, his ruby eyes widened and he tried to feel the wound, struggling with the shortness of breath and the numbness that over the seconds passed over him. Every second he was closer to being reunited with his family again.

"I hope in your next life, dear brother, you don't do anything foolish. For I used to love you very much, friend, farewell." Michael muttered when the Morningstar stopped moving. A single tear trickled from his eye, but he recovered quickly and he handed the dagger back to Raphael.

⠀⠀⠀⠀

"Luci… Luci!" A loud voice called to him. A balm to the fallen angel's restless mind and he unconsciously moved closer to the source of heat, closer to the person who called to him so gently and caressed his scalp with great care. "My love, are you awake?"

Lucifer felt hot. And when his eyes slowly opened he realized that everything he had lived, everything he had suffered was just a fragment of a nightmare. A nightmare that once again showed him his fears and one that left him trembling at that moment. But he still took a deep breath and looked at you with tired eyes.

"What were you dreaming about?" You asked half suppressing a yawn, half full of curiosity. Lucifer was after all a quiet demon in his sleep but today specifically he was whimpering and tossing and turning. And that worried you.

When he chose to remain silent, you guided his head to your chest, hoping that whatever he dreamed of would be soothed when he heard the sound of your heart beating. Your fingers continued to comb his scalp gently, studying every expression that appeared on his face with care.

His furrowed brows slowly returned to their place and Lucifer seemed to be focusing his breathing in time with your heartbeat, slowly calming down as he processed the dream he had. A sneaky hand intertwined with your in a firm, light grip, and he looked up at you.

"You will never leave me, right?" You cupped his face in your hands and nodded, leaning down to place a slow kiss on his forehead.

"Never. You can't get rid of me that easy." You assured him with a smile. And it was true. You would always be there to take care of him just like he took care of you and his brothers.

[amethystroselily]

Wow Seraph of the End got really fucking melancholy lately jeez. Not even properly angsty anymore just kind of sad like in an airy way that makes it feel like the ending.

[gposers]

CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WINNER OF THE 68TH GPOSERS CHALLENGE!!

Name: Seraph Bell World: Gilgamesh Caption: Survivor's guilt Theme: Melancholy

[spiribia]

seraph's favorite meat is lamb but she gets a bit mournful about it. she's like it was so young. she's still eating it just with a faint aura of melancholy about her like an old sad dog. luna thinks shes the funniest person ever invented

[zappedbyzabka]

Your trademark is breathtakingly erotic emotional scenarios that open up new possibilities, flip my wig, rewire my brain, and give me new kinks.

Plus applying that coquette paradigm to men in a way that also rewires my brain.

What a compliment ty❤️ 🥰

I am a monster for dollish/ingenue/lolita (purely the clothes and such)/key west kitten aesthetics and beyond and Billy/Johnny just so happens to be so easy to throw into that. He’s a lamb, he’s a hellcat, he’s a brat. He’s a pretty crier and did it often. He’s seraphic in a melancholy way. He was a go-go dancer but he just did it for kicks!

And the other boys too in a different way. Like Chad/Dutch is SO the kind of guy Lana Del sings about—the callous-handed, smoker “hey, babe, hop in” race car boyfriend who’s a little too blunt but gets sweet when he realizes he hurt you.

And Daniel/Ralph is short, dark, and handsome (as opposed to tall, dark, and handsome). He’s the boy next door. He’s the boy who brings flowers for your mother and calls you sweetheart (in that SCRUMPTIOUS accent.) He’s the princess’s prince. He’s scrappy and will defend you. He’s not afraid to put a ring on it.

Then JIMMY/TONY? Gosh golly, couldn’t be more soft academic boyfriend with a dark edge to his personality.

I could go on.

[vishnavishivaa]

Saundarya: Seraphic Oneness ( Ficlet #1)

Gazes Through Showers

Manohar had finally gotten an early release that day from work. He did work in His father’s company, but He had refused to be treated as someone special, insisting He climb the rung by Himself, especially if He was to become the Managing Director eventually. He wanted to see what every position offered to be able to improve the company as time went by. The pride on His father Vasudev and elder brother Halesh’s faces was more than enough for Him to know He had made the right decision regarding the company. But in that moment, all He really wanted was to go home to His Amma’s bhajjis and tea, relax next to her and talk about the happenings of the day, of dreams of the future. But here He was, caught in the rain, in this crazy, unmoving Bangalore traffic. Was there nothing… He sighed and turned on His playlist, shuffling His Tamil music playlist, hoping that some song that would suit the mood would appear somehow. “Venmathi venmathiye nillu,” the melancholy of love at first sight filled his car, and Manohar relaxed. This song perfectly set the mood, for the gloomy sky and the insane traffic gave Him the same vibes. He sang to himself softly, staring at the endless traffic and the dark rain clouds. Sometimes, He had seen his own complexion dance with the colour of the rain clouds. Rather, very often it had happened, and in recent days, even more so.

Every priest he has met in any temple He went to had told Him that His Divinity was like Vaasudeva Krishna's; that He was meant to change the world, but how could He without His other half by His side?

Manohar sighed softly, looking out His window, when the visual before Him made Him pause, and blink His eyes, repeatedly.

Was that... a young woman dancing in the rain? Amidst the thunder and lightning, all alone, though it felt like the rain was dancing with and around Her. Who was She? Why did She feel like someone intimately close to His heart?

"Jannalin vazhi, vandhu vizhundhadhu minnalin oli..." crooned His radio, as Manohar watched Her unblinking. Even the song sensed the thrumming of His heart and veins, it seemed. He peered more, making to lower the glass of His window, to take Her in better, when the sudden turn She executed in Her dance made Their eyes clash.

And the whole world stopped.

Manohar could feel something ancient awaken in His veins, something primal, beyond the human body, something intimately connected with the Soul, and for that moment, He felt the same from Her too, if Her parted pink lips and the widening of Her neelotpala eyes meant what He thought they did; surprise and knowing, a reflection of His own mixed emotions.

He was unsure what to think; He did not even know what He felt.

But He knew He was overwhelmed, that He felt too many things- who was She? Why did She awaken in Him something He had not felt before?

She was imprinted in Him. He rolled down His window, just to get a clearer look at Her, and it was exactly then that the traffic started to move slowly. He sighed, looking at Her as if to say sorry, before slowly driving away, watching Her for as long as He could, Her eyes never leaving Him either.

'Shankara, bless me so that She and I will meet again, and soon!'

****

Kamalaa could not forget those delightful dark brown eyes, like the soil of the rich earth, that had read her Soul that day. She even remembered those beautiful molten gold specks that danced all over His eyes, even from the distance, amidst heavy rain. The cold She had gotten due to dancing in the rain did not bother Her, but not knowing the identity of the man with the captivating eyes bothered Her.

She wanted to meet Him, get to know Him. Something about Him- it told Her clearly that He was the One.

The One She had always dreamt of.

Somehow, She just knew.

Even She could not explain how it was so, but She was more than sure that He was the One for Her. He was Her beloved Krishna.

"Purushottama," She prayed. "Come for me and to me very soon."

She felt a cool breeze touch Her, the blessing of Her Lord,as if to indicate that all will be well.

"May I ever be yours," She prayed once more, when the light sounds of Her mother's aarati reached Her ears, the ringing sounds of the archanai bell like the melody of Krishna's flute, an answer in reassurance.

"I knew you will always be there for me, Mannavane."

With those words, She slipped out of Her room, not noticing the mild fluttering of the peacock feather on Her desk even in the absence of air, a further sign from Murari, the enlivener of hearts.

A day later...

The house was decorated like a new bride, festoons and flowers hung everywhere. It had ben decorated for the welcoming of the hopeful groom of Kamalaa's elder cousin sister Revathi, the latter a karate instructor and architect, managing both professions with aplomb. Kamalaa Herself had been busy with adorning Her sister with jewels required for the occasion, without taking away Revathi's individuality.

Kamalaa's hobby was aesthetic, elegant dressing, while professionally, she was a child psychiatrist, and had seen a lot of unexpected cases.

"Kamalaa," Revathi said. "Do you think this will work out?"

"I feel it will. I have a good feeling about this match, in a way I did not about the previous ones," said Kamalaa softly. "That explains the dressing up too, I guess."

"You always dress me up beautifully, but since you met that mystery man, I feel like you allowed your romantic side to come out in full force, and that is showing in how you are dressing me up."

"Is it?" Kamalaa felt the jhumkas on Her ears hit Her skin lightly, creating a pleasant sensation rather than pain, as She entwined Revathi's long braid with a fusion of malli and kanakambaram.

"It is, and I am loving this," said Revathi. "You have made me some celestial apsara?"

Revathi was clearly joking, but Kamalaa looked at Her sister, and said, "You do not know how beautiful you truly are. Hopefully, my Athimber can and will show you."

"Girls, they are near. Kamalaa, check to make sure all the food is ready, and keep Revathi's vadai-sambar in the front," called out Prerna, Kamalaa's mother, who had taken the position of Revathi's after the latter lost hers.

Kamalaa looked at Revathi and kissed Her forehead gently.

"Get ready Akka, the time has come."

With that, Kamalaa left the room, heading to join the welcoming committee, just as the golden brown eyes her heart had been captivated by fell on Her.

Kamalaa stilled and met His eyes, as He too paused, taken in by Her, the whole world falling away, only each other in the vicinity of the intense gaze of love that radiated from them.

"Purushottama," She whispered, low enough that none but She could hear Herself.

"Neela," He whispered, as if having heard Her, His eyes boring into Hers, as everyone around Them greeted each other, the heady love in the air enhanced within Them, as both walked inside, now side by side, as if unable to even part.

'Krishna, you came, as you promised,' Kamalaa prayed, as everyone got seated, and the introductions started, Kamalaa still glancing at the man intermittently, Her veins thrumming with reassurance and hope.

******

@vibishalakshman @thelekhikawrites @celestesinsight @krishna-sahacharini @kaal-naagin @krishnapriyakiduniya @nirmohi-premika @chemicalmindedlotus @whippersnappersbookworm @sakhiiii @ambidextrousarcher @willkatfanfromasia @nspwriteups @dr-scribbler @rupkatha-banerjee @theramblergirl @hinsaa-paramo-dharma @moon-880 @thegleamingmoon @thereader-radhika @balladedutempsjadis @dr-scribbler Please let me know you thoughts, and do let me know if the rest of you want to be added to the list. 

[niksu-agassi]

So dreamy~✨️

[ivoirin]

(composed and written by Kazuki / arranged by Yuki/Raphael)

The elves' melancholy

エルフは踊る　愉快な宴 「呪いの定め」 セラフは歌う 愉快な舞踏 「呪いの運命」

空では月まで青ざめて　負けず嫌いなお星様

ゆら　ゆら　七色の夢 くら　くら　ラララくらくら

エルフは踊る　愉快な宴 「呪いの定め」 セラフは歌う　愉快な舞踏 「呪いの運命」

今では僕まで青ざめて 負けず嫌いな金縛り

ゆら　ゆら　七色の夢 くら　くら　ラララくらくら

ふわ　ふわ　異国のベッド ひら　ひら　そこをどいてよ

The elves dance; a delightful feast "Cursed destiny" The seraphs sings; a merry dance “Cursed fate”

In the sky even the moon appears pallid and the mighty stars are sore losers.

Gently swaying is the seven-colored dream, Spinning, twirling, la la la...

The elves dance; a delightful feast "Cursed destiny" The seraphs sings; a merry dance “Cursed fate”

Now, I too, am pale and the sleep paralysis is sore loser.

Gently swaying is the seven-colored dream, Spinning, twirling, la la la...

Oh, soft, so soft… a foreign bed. Flutter, flutter, get out of the way!

[pupsmailbox]

ANGELIC︰DEVINE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abel. acher. achille. adam. adrien. adélie. aelin. alaida. alexis. alice. alya. ambroise. amelia. amour. ana. anahera. andras. angaile. ange. angel. angela. angelesse. angelette. angelica. angelina. angeline. angelique. angelissa. angelita. angeliza. angella. angelo. angelus. angelyna. angie. angé. angélique. anna. antoine. apolline. ariel. astrid. aurora. aurore. azazel. baal. behemoth. berrie. bethany. blaise. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. blushe. bowette. cain. caleb. camille. capucine. carmen. cary. casimir. cassandra. cassiel. castiel. cathy. celeste. celestine. celine. cerberus. cerise. charmeine. cher. cherie. cherub. choirette. christian. christine. chérie. cielo. claire. claude. cloud. cloudisse. cynthia. cyril. daisy. damien. damon. danni. dina. divina. divinesse. divinette. divinne. donovan. dova. dulcengel. eden. elena. elouan. elysia. emmy. engel. enzo. erebus. eryn. estelle. esther. evangelina. evangeline. evangelista. eve. faith. felix. fiacre. fleur. fortune. francette. francis. gabriel. gabriella. gaby. gemini. genesis. ghoul. giselle. godefrey. grace. gwenaël. halo. heartette. heather. heaven. heavenelle. heavenesse. hel. helena. henri. hera. honoré. hyacinthe. icha. isaac. isabelle. isidore. jacques. jade. jennifer. jin. jocelyn. jordan. joseph. josephina. julia. kage. karine. kasdeya. katie. kenzo. keres. kilian. lacey. lambise. lamia. laura. leila. leilani. levi. leviathan. liam. lightion. lilia. lilin. lilith. lola. louis. lucia. lucien. lucifer. léo. madeleine. madeline. malachi. malvina. mal’akhi. marc. mare. marie. marin. marine. mary. mateo. maxime. melantha. michael. michelangelo. michelle. minerva. mirabelle. morgan. moros. nadia. narcisse. nazaire. nicholas. noah. noelle. octave. océane. odin. olivia. onyx. ophelia. orpheus. pheobe.���pinkette. pinkion. piérre. priscilla. prosper. rainier. ramiel. raphael. ravana. raymond. robin. rogue. rosaire. roxxane. ruby. rue. ruelle. rémi. sabel. salome. salomon. samael. samuel. sara. sephora. sephtis. sera. seraph. seraphim. seraphina. seraphine. serenity. seth. skye. soan. softetta. sol. sonata. sophia. soraya. strawbette. sugarette. sylvain. sylvianne. séraphin. tatiana. theodore. timothee. tristan. uriel. ursula. valentine. valerie. venetia. vera. victor. victoria. victorien. vionetta. virtue. vivian. vivien. willow. wingette. wolf. xavier. xela. yann. yasmine. yvette. zacharie. zoe. ángel. ánxela. éloi. étienne.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abo/above. adore/adore. ae/ae. ae/aer. an/angel. angel/angel. angelic/angelic. arch/angel. archangel/archangel. arrow/arrow. aura/aura. ay/aym. ballet/ballet. beau/beau. beauty/beauty. being/being. beloved/beloved. black/black. bless/bless. bless/blessing. blessing/blessing. bloom/bloom. blue/blue. bow/bow. broke/broken. bun/bun. celeste/celestial. celestial/celestial. cher/cher. cherub/cherub. cherub/cherubim. chirp/chirp. choir/choir. clou/cloud. cloud/cloud. cold/cold. cross/cross. crown/crown. cu/cupid. cupid/cupid. curse/curse. dark/dark. deity/deity. delicate/delicate. div/divine. div/divinity. divine/divine. dove/dove. drift/drift. empty/empty. er/ero. ero/ero. ethe/ethereal. ethereal/ethereal. ey/eyr. fai/faith. faith/faith. fall/fall. fall/fallen. fate/fate. faun/fauna. feather/feather. flight/flight. float/float. flower/flower. fluff/fluff. fly/flight. fly/fly. glow/glow. gold/gold. grace/grace. gra/grace. grudge/grudge. hae/haer. ha/halo. halo/halo. harp/harp. he/hym. hea/heaven. heal/heal. heart/heart. heaven/heaven. heaven/heavenly. hell/hell. hol/holy. holy/holy. hush/hush. hx/hxm. hy/hym. hymn/hymn. id/idol. ix/ix. kind/kind. kyr/kyr. lace/lace. lamb/lamb. life/life. light/light. lo/love. lyr/lyr. lyre/lyre. melancholy/melancholy. metallic/metallic. mirror/mirror. mist/mist. misty/misty. mon/mon. moral/moral. omen/omen. peace/peace. perfect/perfection. pink/pink. pure/pure. pure/purr. radiant/radiant. ribbon/ribbon. rose/rose. sacred/sacred. saint/saint. scept/scepter. self/self. ser/seraph. seraph/seraph. seraph/seraphim. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shining. shx/hxr. silk/silk. sin/sin. sing/song. sky/sky. smite/smite. snake/snake. snow/snow. soar/soaring. soft/soft. somber/somber. sorrow/sorrow. spark/sparkle. spirit/spirit. sugar/sugar. swan/swan. sweet/sweet. taint/taint. tether/tether. thorn/thorn. thxy/thxm. thy/thyn. tru/trumpet. unholy/unholy. unknown/unknown. vae/vaer. val/valentine. vio/vior. water/water. white/white. wi/wing. wing/wing. wraith/wraith. wrath/wrath. yellow/yellow. ðe/ðim. þe/þim. ȝe/ȝim. ☀️ . ☁️ . ⛪ . ✨ . ⭐ . 🐑 . 👁️ . 👼 . 🕊️ . 🕯️ . 😇 . 🤍 . 🦢.

[trajektna-linija]

preporuči neke blogove da zapratimo

@whyohmy @seraphic-melancholy @selmalex0 @belog-grada-crna-princeza @enatranced @gomila-nesklada @waitapu @kuminemo @kradljivac-kostiju @waschbiber @deepbluesskies @serijski--samoubica ♡

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked [ AWAY ]: the sender, using their fingertips, tenderly sweeps a few strands of hair out of the receiver’s face so as to see them more clearly. (from neuvi to dain bc i'm drowning in thesis for a couple more hours BUT the long haired dain you sent me still lives rent free in my mind)

It is said that when one predict themselves to be in a vulnerable state in the foreseeable future, they will choose any place that could mildly do its job at providing them protection until they are back to health. While this statement may work for Dáinsleif at times, self-awareness of the circumstances that follow him— seek him to bring him down to his knees and submit. Reason why under special needs he must take special precautions.

Reason why he chose the depths of Érinnyes Forest as his place of momentary repose, just enough to let the deluge come to pass and all the people be brought to safety. Whenever Twilight treads these grounds, a sense of nostalgia and melancholy fills his chest, pleading him for warm home's respite. For someone like him that long ago has lost his home, this would be unconceivable, a result of delirium that comes from centuries of activity without ever stopping once to consider his own necessities. Not because he lacks them— he, as any other creature of celestial origins or otherwise, harbors his own yearnings.

Then why, one might ask, his soul and the word home combined tug at his heartstrings whenever he walks nearby this area? It is because none other than the willow amidst the lake deeper within the forest. Although different than the Axis Mundi that had compassion for his shattering soul, its Bough Keeper can recognize any manifestations of it on the overworld even when distance is so bold to stay between them.

Vulnerable and exposed as he is did the lunarescent seraph make his way to the top of the rock that serves as a base to the seemingly floating tree and sits there. Like a mother would to her child, leaves of blue react in providing soothing warmth through azure glow, branches extend even farther down near the grass as if to conceal him, lakelight lilies emit luminescent motes to further hide him in a protective maze only for select chosen ones with sufficient authority and recognition of a benevolent soul to be allowed pass to the now fleeting core of the tree.

And yet, even with this kind protection the Bough Keeper isn't entirely safe: for there are those who would gnaw at its roots just to have a way towards him. Like moths that rather than being attracted to light to bask in it, seek to destroy it so it won't bring more harm to them than it already had. I am sorry. One last thought crosses luminary's mind before he enters into a slumber, guilt forming within him as sentience of this tree's beginning of pain registers in his mind— and a promise to soothe its pain soon.

Look at you, all pitiful and weak for falling for that old dragon's enchantment. As it is customary, that nagging voice that would cause terrors to anyone unaccustomed to otherworldly presence connected to their soul returns with the coming of a tide of darkness when Ley Lines are disrupted, and thus the protection She grants to him against the advancement of the corruption dwindles. Once again you would act against your heart's desires. Do you not think you deserve better than to be used as a tool for saving someone else when you need saving the most?

I thought you would know better by now, after centuries of sowing torment within me— that I deserve nothing. Abyss' chaos is tempting, intoxicating as many who have fallen to its will would describe it. It knows what to whisper in one's ear, to beckon them to do the final jump into a pit of desolation and never ending darkness impossible to escape from once within. If there is one good thing unending guilt and endless self-loathing has, is that he cannot fall as easily to desires tainted with defilement.

And yet you would fall for his affections and sweetened words professing love for you. Isn't you who believes that love should heal, not hurt? Then, why would he seek to harm you at the expense of his selfish desire to put those sinners before you?

Fair eyebrows react, knitting in a frown. Coexisting with a man's will brings consequences such as baring his heart to him without intending to do so. This— this is the most dangerous of all in being too weak to repress his voice and presence. That he knows him all too well, even past his own fronts of negativity towards himself. No matter how many layers would call for an irremediable cause, he would know that deep down... his heart still longs for someone to be with him. Someone that filled with awareness of his own circumstances and self-imposed duties won't run away. Someone to share burdens with... someone to spark a light in this dark world of his.

Intimidating draconic pupils quiver within iridescent depths in the face of an adversity that has an immediate fix, and even then he would be afflicted with struggle at the knowledge of what this will cause to him. The frown in his eye combined with a tremble of lips, unmistakeable. ◜I know it must be done... but has there not been enough suffering, without me having to drag you into the storm?◞

He will never forget the shock that caused his words, immensely touching as the vastness of the seas he possesses authority over— so in line with a heart of gold filled with compassion for someone no bigger than a sinner or an archenemy if one were to think about the endless strife betwixt their kin. Nor he will ever forget the tenderness of his touch, an anticipated balm to his soul for the incoming pain he would come to experience.

◜I will find you when the storm in here and in the Ley Lines has passed.◞

For being someone full of confidence in being well-versed in my heart's grievances and desires, you have lost sight of the most important of all. Yes, I am a firm believer that love should not bring pain and yes, my longing to encounter someone meant for me isn't any less existent. However... his fight is my fight. It is in proving that humanity will rise against the divine injustice and an even more unfair order over this world that gives me strength to continue, that there is hope to defy this world and re-weave all threads of fate... This pain is but a small price to pay for everything grand that this world will achieve.

A spark of light makes itself manifest in the boundless darkness within his mind and so the voice fades to nothingness. Sensing the presence of another when he should be alone, albescent lashes flutter open in time to see Neuvillette's face close to his, his fingers gentle and loving to sweep away pale strands of hair. Exhaustion borne eyes crinkle at the edges in a smile that one day may remember its way to roseate lips, weary heart light all of a sudden as if a great weight has been lifted.

◜You came.◞ Though nonexistent of a command, luminescent branches retreat to their initial position as if by one, deeming their protection no longer necessary. Gloved hands reach out to cup his beloved's face tenderly just as he did before they had to part ways moments prior to the deluge. He is here. He kept his promise. Glacial sapphires soften as he brings his face closer to press their foreheads together, to feel his breathing as the ultimate proof that no amount of illusions born from the darkness of his heart could fake this. ◜Worry not. I am alright.◞ Alright wouldn't be precisely the best descriptor to explain his current condition, granted that he had an uncomfortable conversation with an unwelcome presence in his mind and this was filled with even more unpleasant thoughts whose magnitude doesn't match with unavoidable sentiments— for even if he may think that what that man said doesn't reflect his own thoughts, the Abyss never draws something out of thin air. It is born, without a doubt, from preexistent feelings of his heart mixed with darkness he's shrouded in about his person.

A soft sigh is released after calming himself in the soothing presence of the sovereign, then a gentle nod follows as his hands withdraw and drop to the grass to help himself stand. ◜It is not over yet.◞ Weakened as he may currently be, he extends a hand to help Neuvillette stand too— in the back of his mind, cruel laughter resonates coupled with a forced reminder that he, too, needs saving. But it doesn't have to be now, nor it is like it will never come— no. Long ago has it made itself present in his soul... the moment he chose him. ◜There is one more thing to do. The willow... it is weeping.◞

Thank you for protecting me. Now, allow me to return the favor and alleviate your pain.