Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim
Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg
Chapter: 11
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me and Food-for-mind
Author's Note: Sequel to Angel of War
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The angelic side of the small family very quickly declared that little Gabriel was the spitting image of her mother, almost being exactly like Azrael when he had been her age. Unlike her elder sister, she slept easily and was more than content just to nest near her mother as the angelic scholar read books out loud.
Grace meanwhile grew quickly, her wings almost returning to their former white splendour. Only someone who had seen her before the entire Puer Sacramentum-debacle would have been able to see that they were just a touch greyer than they had been. By the time she had grown into a young woman, it was clear she had inherited the beauty of angels and her father's fearsome capabilities with a sword.
On her sixteenth birthday, her father gifted her with a sword forged by the Makers. Azrael looked in vague amusement as the five-year-old Gabriel seemed to want nothing to do with the object.
The scholar watched the young angel flutter over to two of her uncles who had remained at the edge of the celebration, insisting that they pick her up. It was Strife who indulged her, though she insisted on clinging to Caim as well. The two only looked mildly annoyed at that.
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Strife was laying on the top of one of the more or less unused towers, looking up at the new dome they had made. With the numbers of the fortress' inhabitants steadily increasing, they had decided to enlarge the area covered by the protective wards. It was now covered an area the size of a large island. The more mystically inclined had ensured normal plants and animals could grow and the fortress was now in the centre of a large forest. In fact, several of the Fallen had banded together and started a substantial farm in the south.
The White Rider sighed, letting his head fall backwards against the clay roof-tiles. He should have known that this peace was too good to last. Closing his eyes, he considered the day; apparently, the wards had been completely redone, requiring all inhabitants to have – essentially – their access redone. Something Death had told him to pass on to Caim... the one time the Gunner had not been paying attention to what the Firstborn Nephilim had been saying. Cue the Fallen Commander 'bouncing back' when he tried to teleport back from an assignment. Now more or less everyone was angry with him.
He sat back up, getting up to stretch himself. He tilted his head when seeing Grace, one of her friends and the youngest batch of children head out. Guess they were going to play on the grasslands. Perhaps he could join them. Gabriel certainly cheered up when seeing him.
He took a small running start, jumping from the roof. Halfway down he summoned Regret – speak of a fitting name at the moment – and the two landed gracefully on the ground.
They managed to follow the group with a healthy canter, the small angels not being able to fly faster than a firm jog.
"Uncle!" He promptly had a small girl hang around his neck. She flapped her wings a few times to settle on his shoulders.
"Hello there." The Gunner patted her knee. "Off to gather more flowers?"
"Nah, we're heading to the river." His older niece drifted to beside his horse, her dress floating around her form. "Teaching them how to fish."
"Now that's a good idea." Strife smirked lightly at Regret's annoyance when all four youngsters settled down on her back. "Oh come on, Regret, I'll not make you run with them all, how about that?" There were some sad angel-sounds at that statement, causing the Nephilim to chuckle.
"What about when only all four are on her?" Grace mused, the wind of her large wings ruffling the small feathers covering the children's wings. "That saves weight, I bet."
Regret snorted at that and Gabriel giggled. "You wound me, Grace." Strife stated in mock horror. "Now, did any of you ever learn how to hunt fish with guns?"
