Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/Abaddon
Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery
Chapter: 17
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me
Author's note: This chapter is the fault of a certain someone that definitely knows who they are!
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Strife had died. Shuddering, Death looked at his first-raised. The sword-wound in the end had been too much for the Gunner and the Nephilim-healers. 'Quite frankly, I am surprised he made it this long.' Those had been his words... Well, the short-haired male heard them alright. And had decided to antagonize their speaker the only way he could.
"Damn. You." He wanted to pull the other male back, just to scream at him about how he'd dare die now... but he could not. It had been his own fault.
He managed to keep his tears in check, but beside him their sister did not have such self-control. Clutching her brother's hand, Fury was sobbing brokenly.
"You... you just couldn't resist... could you?" Death's mask creaked in his grip, the dried bone cracking under his grip. "The child was not enough loss for your taste, was it?" Hollow words, spoken in a desperate attempt to soothe the blooming pain in his heart.
He could not deal with this. Fleeing the tent, he marched out the encampment, up into the surrounding hills. Agony arched through his body with every step and in the end he could no longer move anymore. It hurt too much.
Briefly considering just screaming it all away, he finally decided to just collapse on the ground. His mask long lost, he moaned softly while curling up on the ground. Too much pain! It hurt too much!
All because he had been too blind to consider that Absalom could handle things himself. So focused on the survival of their leader, that he had forgotten his children... in a certain meaning of the word, of course.
The realization what was probably happening to the small child, near-angelic as it was, was almost worse than the pain of losing his first-raised.
Dragging himself up to look at the camp briefly, he started walking again. Watching where he set his feet was a way to distract him after all. Counting rocks also helped...
Whimper...
Death froze, looking up properly now and one hand already on the hilt of Harvester.
Another whimper...
Something was moving...
A new agony bloomed in his mind: not his own, this time, but that of someone else. Sweet and yet so sharp.
Whatever it was, it had collapsed. He had heard the wet sound of it hitting the rocks.
Shuddering breaths, slowing down and coming harder each time.
Was that white hair?
Harvester fell down from lifeless hands. "No..." He had two brothers... and now he had none. The child was in front of him, a stab-wound almost eerily reminiscent of the one that had felled Strife after months of hoping for the opposite on his back. And probably his chest as well.
The weapon must have been huge! The little body had nearly been halved by it. Falling to his knees again, he carefully gathered the boy onto his lap. The light-blue eyes had dimmed to nothing.
"I'm sorry..." Was there no end to his suffering!? Death choked on something he could not name while trying to cover the wound with the remnants of the child's clothes.
"DEATH!" He lurched forward upon hearing Absalom's voice echo among the stone spires. Could he not even mourn in peace!? "Death!"
Cradling his youngest, the Firstborn rose to his feet. "Here!" It would do him no good to antagonize the eldest of them all, after all.
Absolution appeared over the nearest ridge. Orange eyes widened when seeing it was covered in blood. Another attack!? No, he ought to have heard it, even with the destitution he felt.
Absalom followed his massive axe, glaring darkly at his second-in-command. "There you are." He was dragging something behind him. "What did I tell you!?"
"Absalom... I..." He felt like the ground disappeared beneath his feet when he saw what the massive male had been dragging all the way out here. Clutching long purple tresses, Lilith's son had killed Fury.
He lost his grip on the boy in his arms, his own breath rushing in his ears. No... no... he had obeyed, had he not? There was nothing that could warrant this.
The pale-skinned female was dropped, Absalom advancing quickly now while Death tried desperately to regain his footing.
Absolution's bite was like jumping into freezing waters. He could not breathe.
As he gave into his body's desire to cough, he could tell why: thick blood sprayed from his lips.
Only then did he realize that Absolution had nearly cleaved him in half.
Falling to the ground, he tried to crawl away. If he could just... just a few moments and his healing-ability would fix him... just a few moments.
Death was halfway over the child's cooling form when Absolution bit again, nailing him to the ground and no doubt finishing what the weapon that had killed the white-haired boy had not. He could feel the two halves of the child underneath him, the still warm blood mixing with his own.
A foot landed on his head and the nails studding the underside dug into his flesh.
He might have made a completely unbefitting sound as the pressure increased. At least, while he was still able to.