Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC
Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery
Chapter: 56
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me
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"Death?" Despite Azrael warning him that he better not come to the White City any time soon for aid, the eldest Nephilim had appeared – quite literally – on the Argent Spire's doorstep. "I thought I had been politely clear with my statement at your home. So I feel the need to demand what do you think you are doing here?"
"Very true, but I did not come for aid." Death countered, reaching behind him to close the door to the angel's office. "You see, funny rumours reached me during the incident you helped me with. I hope you understand, I had different priorities at the time."
"What rumours could warrant you all but invading the White City? I noticed the breaching of the wards outside, Death. This is not like you." Azrael crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. He wasn't too worried about himself; many people would be answering the breach and he was certainly capable enough to buy himself more than enough time. He was, however, suspicious. Not that he had the best relationship with Death, but the Nephilim Firstborn was acting quite strange compared to usual and he could not solely blame it on the recent events.
"Shortly after Eden, I travelled Hell." The black-haired mused. "Hunting down Nephilim that for one or another reason escaped the slaughter at Eden… I think Abaddon told you of the edict regarding those, right?"
"And that relates to the White City… how exactly?" Azrael raised one eyebrow, wings curling behind him. The Rider couldn't have possibly figured out that Zeruch was…
"There was an attack by demons on the Nephilim-camp, long ago." Death shrugged lightly, crossing the distance to the angel. "Many youngsters were taken to be sold into slavery, as demons do. I could account for all of those in one way or another, except for one."
"I hate having to repeat myself; how does that relate to me or the City?" The angel's eyebrows narrowed even more as the Nephilim came increasingly closer.
"The child in question looks like an angel, except for blue eyes – and no doubt because of its' Nephilim-nature, far more muscular than a normal angel. Sound familiar?"
"What are you insinuating?" The scholar's wings widened again, spreading with his anger. Abaddon had told him of the edict, but he never would have thought he'd actually need to worry about it.
"You should know me, Azrael. I do no insinuate, I accuse. Your son is no angel. He is a Nephilim. One you have been hiding for millennia by now." Orange eyes glared at the angel.
"You might want to rethink that statement." Azrael snarled. How did Death ever figure this out? When did he even see Zeruch to notice his eyes!? "It sounds as if you are accusing me of harbouring a Nephilim. Not to mention outright accusing my son – and the son-in-law of two Angelic Firstborn – of being one." The light through the window darkened as warriors from across the city closed in on the Nephilim that had appeared without good reason in the middle of their domain.
"You know I care little for those things." Death briefly looked up at the window, frowning a bit at hearing the beating wings. "Your son is not an angel. You have no right to keep him."
"What I do or not do with my child is none of your business." The Gatekeeper countered sharply. "Now I suggest you leave before I take offense to your accusations, Death."
"They are not accusations, Azreal." The Nephilim snarled dangerously. "You will give that Nephilim to me."
"I will not give you my Angelic child, Death." The air around Azrael started to crackle, the papers on his desk rustling in the updraft formed by the mystic's anger. "How dare you come in here and throw around such baseless accusations!? Begone!"
"Now you listen to me…" The Nephilim grabbed the emerald silk, yanking the angel close. Only to let go immediately when his senses warned him of an enemy coming from behind.
A sword passed in front of his face, burying itself into the expensive marble of Azrael's office. It did little at slowing down the massive angel wielding it.
"I think you have overstayed your welcome by a fair degree, Nephilim." The boy they had been arguing about just moments ago stood in front of the scholar. "Begone where you came from."
There was an uncomfortable silence, as Death seemed to weigh his options of forcing the issue.
Despite how it seemed on the outside, the Nephilim felt devastated; he sensed nothing of a mixed nature in the adopted child of Azrael and Abaddon. Had he been mistaken?
"I think you should leave the City, Death." Azrael softly stated. "Preferably before Abaddon arrives. He is not as forgiving as I am."
Without another word, the black-haired male did, stepping through the boundaries that separated worlds from eachother.