Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC

Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery

Chapter:38

Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me

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Azrael looked up when someone knocked on his door. This was becoming a habit. "Enter." One eyebrow rose when seeing who entered. "Gabriel, what brings you here?"

"I want to know something." She closed the door behind herself, heading over to his desk to sit down on one of the chairs. "Do you have time?"

"If it doesn't take too long, certainly." The other scholar put aside his work, levitating over some wine with a mere gesture. "It must be serious if you come to me during work-time."

"Well, not that serious." She chuckled lightly. "What happened to Zeruch? Normally I'd get a letter once a week, but it's been two months by now. Considering the... content, I didn't think he'd tire that quickly of me..."

Azrael snorted lightly at that. "Oh, I do not think he tired of you. He just fled the White City – for Silverwall, should that interest you."

"Fled... the City?" The female had been about to take a drink of her wine, but now lowered it again. "Why would he flee the city?"

"Apparently, he did not know that the letters were signed." Zeruch's father grinned at the memory. "His handwriting is atrocious and he had asked Naya'il to copy them for him. Without his knowledge, she had been adding his name to them for... well, however long it was you got signed letters. He found out, stormed into this room like half of Hell was on his heels and insisted Abaddon send him far away. Now he's the Garrison-Commander of Silverwall."

Despite her surprise, Gabriel couldn't help but giggle at the idea. "The poor thing. And he's not intending to come back?"

"He was – and probably still is – mortified." The male scholar leaned back in his seat a bit. "I do think he was just aiming for these 'venting-letters' people nowadays engage in when enamoured with someone they deem beyond their reach. While he'd no doubt be overjoyed to get a chance to be with you, I don't think he was in any way expecting or prepared for having to actually face you over them."

The female actually looked flattered at that. "So what would he do if I went to talk with him?"

"Don't tell me you're actually contemplating taking him as your lover?" Azrael blinked a few times. While he most assuredly would not mind getting her as a daughter-in-law, he was not sure whether it would be a good idea. "Gabriel, the City will explode with speculation if you do. He kind off is young enough to be your great-something-grandchild."

"Doesn't it always?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what kind of men I like, Azrael. He would fit from what I've seen. Plus, I am not going to marry him right away, despite rumours to the contrary regarding my second husband I do not do this, but I would be lying if I didn't say I am... fond of him. I showed you one of his letters. They are certainly capable of turning a girl's head."

"Don't get either of you hurt though." The rune-winged angel rose to his feet. "And try to dodge Abaddon should he accept your courtship... he had been hoping to get Zeruch with a nice warrior-woman and make all the warrior-babies." He quirked a grin. "He won't look favourably on a scholar ruining that plan."

"No doubt." Gabriel rose as well. "So, Silverwall, you said?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You're a traitor." Zeruch muttered darkly, looking over the paperwork he had to send to his uncle come morning.

"You said that a good couple times already these last two months." Opposite him, behind her own desk, was his Second-in-Command and the reason why he was even in this outpost to begin with. When Naya'il had found out that he had gotten transferred, she had posted a request to be allowed to join him as his Second once again. "You should instead be grateful: if not for me, you'd still be getting nowhere with Gabriel. Honestly, you'd been writing her for ages by the time I started helping you."

"You signed my name under those letters!" Her superior hissed. "Gabriel wasn't supposed to ever find out! I was vent-writing, Naya, not trying to get her."

"Don't be such a chicken..." After centuries of being his Second, Naya'il was probably one of few that could shrug of his intimidating anger like it was nothing. "Honestly, considering she didn't have you court-martialled or anything like that, I bet she liked them even after finding out they came from you. You might just stand a chance."

"I most assuredly do not. I am nowhere near good enough... or even appropriately ranked, for that matter. Even if she would reciprocate – which is darn unlikely anyway, I could be her descendant a dozen generations down – we'd just end up like Raciel and Hadrimon. I don't want to end up like either of those two. And I certainly don't want her to end up like either of those too. She's too good for that."

"You're always so negative about yourself." Oblivious to his true nature, his friend kept insisting that he really should work on his self-esteem. It was quite frankly horribly low, as far as she was concerned. But how could one have high self-esteem when almost monthly, new word of atrocities of one's kin filtered into Heaven. Kothysos had been a slaughter-ground, from what little information Heaven had received about it. Abaddon had been unwilling to risk any to scout the battle-field and so the angels had been reliant on some surviving Old Ones who had fled into the sanctity of the White City after the battle had left the planet a barren wasteland.