Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC
Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery
Chapter: 67
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Zeruch felt something creeping up behind him as he watched Abaddon argue with the Charred Council. He risked a short glance behind him, but saw nothing except lava and smoke… with some rock.
"Pardon me, Zeruch..." A soft, gentle voice echoed in his head. He faintly remembered it from the few visits he had made to its' owner. How he could hear Michael, who was still asleep as far as he knew, was another question. "This will be certainly uncomfortable for us both, Nephilim."
Before he could ask what the not-present and presumably imagined ruler of Heaven meant, his body was agony. It felt as if he was burning at far greater temperatures he could handle. He recognized the feeling as the one whenever he came too close to his father's uncle. Even as angelic as his energies had become after Azrael gave him his wings, he had enough demonic blood to feel pain if he came too close to the holy light that permanently flooded from the elder angel.
"Charred Council." Spectral wings sprouted from his back, light pouring from his orifices. "Let me enter." Zeruch sincerely hoped they would, as this hurt.
"What…?" Abaddon was staring at his son, eyes widening at the sight.
"Who dares!?" The Charred Council snarled, eyes flaming.
"How many angels do you know that have several dozen wings?" Michael used the young Nephilim as a long-distance loudspeaker, spectral wings curling around the young male. "Open your wards and let me enter. I'd rather not have to deepfry the boy just to talk with you."
Since Michael kept his eyes firmly trained on the Charred Council, Zeruch could only see some demons from the corner of his eye. Several of them were looking quite shocked at this development. He could be imagining it, but Samael looked more amused than surprised though.
"My lord…?" Abaddon approached his son. "What….?"
It seemed the Council obliged, as the wings became more solid, rising above the younger male. Zeruch collapsed with a groan of pain when Heaven's Leader fully appeared above him. Abaddon rushed towards him as Michael's wings coiled above them.
"My apologies, young one." The glowing angel touched down, golden skirt pooling on the rocky ground of the flaming Council's domain. "Now, what is the meaning of this? I sleep peacefully and suddenly I am informed you are hunting down my people."
"He is not your people, Michael, though your loyalty does you credit." The Charred Council boomed, their flames almost seeming dim compared to the holy light pouring of the new arrival. "He is a Nephilim and therefor condemned."
"He is my people, though he was born a Nephilim." Michael coolly pointed out. "He grew up with us, he lives with our rules." Zeruch felt the pain get worse as the light increased. "And if you think I will give him up, you are sorely mistaken."
"Our word on Nephilim is clear. Death or servitude, even you cannot defy us." Three voices boomed, actually ruffling the feathers of the three residents of the White City in front of them.
"I can make you regret enforcing the decision." Heaven's ruler almost snarled it, wing-tentacles coiling like snakes. "He is mine, he is innocent and you will have him over my corpse." His wings closed around him as well, shielding his form from any attacks they might launch. "I will not allow you to take innocents from among my people."
"My Lord..." Abaddon helped his son to standing, being torn between dread and amazement at the Elder angel in front of him. There was a distinct difference between a General – even if he was the greatest – and a ruler saying such things. If they took him up on that challenge…
"Abaddon. If they make a move against me, retreat to the City with your son and inform my siblings..." Michael coolly ignored the surprise of those around him.
"You would risk the truce!?" It was actually a demon who spoke now, calling out to Michael. Regardless of whether Michael or the Charred Council were to start the violence, the sheer nature of Michael's power would mean the demons were in the crossfire regardless.
"If the Mediators of Balance deny balance by threatening innocents, it is not a truce I would abide by."
The sound of grinding stone echoed from beneath them, fires roaring upwards in the flaming pools of magma dotted around the expanse. The Horsemen had retreated as far as they could, still torn between their forced servitude to the Council and the fact that Michael had a point, not taking into consideration he was talking about their youngest brother.